Page 126 of Dangerous Beginnings

I glance toward Isabella, her wide eyes locked on me, her body trembling against the officers holding her. My chest tightens, but I can’t let it show. I can’t let her know how much she matters to me.

“You take me,” I say, my voice slicing through the downpour, a command, not a plea. “You let her walk away, free, untouched. That’s the deal. But if you so much as breathe in her direction again?” I let the words hang in the air, heavy and threatening. “You’ll lose everything, Nick. Starting with her.”

Nick’s jaw tightens, his anger barely contained. The rain drips off his helmet, his gaze locked with mine. There’s a moment—just a breath—where the world seems to pause.

Finally, he nods, short and reluctant. “Release her,” he barks, his voice hard and edged with fury.

The SWAT officers uncuff Isabella, their hands dropping asshe stumbles forward, her steps shaky and uneven. Her wide, tear-filled eyes dart to me, her lips trembling as if she’s about to speak.

Isabella

The rain feels colder now, slicing against my skin as I stumble forward, my legs barely able to hold me up. My head whips around, trying to find Aslanov through the chaos, my heart pounding so hard it drowns out the shouting voices and the roaring storm.

But all I can see is destruction.

One by one, his men are taken down, their defiance met with relentless force. Some drop their weapons when ordered, their faces blank, resigned. Others fight to the end, bodies slammed into the wet ground by the unrelenting SWAT team. The sound of rifles clattering to the dirt echoes in my ears, a sickening rhythm of defeat.

The chaos around me is deafening, but in the middle of it, there’s something that grabs my attention—something that freezes my blood and makes my heart stutter in my chest.

Through the haze of smoke, through the flashing lights and sounds of destruction, I see him.

Nick.

My old boss from the prison.

I never thought I’d see him again. After Aslanov broke out, and burned the entire prison to the ground, killing everyone in his path—including him. Or so I thought. No one ever spoke of him again. He wasn’t even in the reports I read back then with Ada. Aslanov’s escape had left no trace of the people inside, and I had assumed, like everyone else, that Nick had perished in that inferno.

But here he is.

Standing there, his silhouette sharp against the night, like henever left. How? How is he alive? How does he know where we are? How does he know Aslanov’s name?

My mind races, confusion thickening in my chest. My thoughts churn like a storm of their own as I try to piece it together, but nothing makes sense.

“Aslanov!” I scream, my voice hoarse, but he doesn’t look at me. He’s standing still, eerily calm as if none of this chaos touches him. Even as four SWAT officers close in, weapons trained on him, he doesn’t flinch.

His gaze, cold and sharp as ever, remains locked on Nick as if daring him to cross an unspoken line.

“Take him down,” Nick orders, his voice cutting through the storm, and my stomach lurches.

Four men move in unison, surrounding Aslanov. My breath catches as one of them grabs his arm, twisting it roughly behind his back. His body jerks slightly with the force, but he doesn’t resist.

“Don’t!” I scream, thrashing against the officer holding me, my voice raw. “Nick! Stop it!”

Another officer grabs his other arm, shackling his wrists with brutal efficiency. They move quickly, expertly, kicking his legs out from under him until he’s on his knees in the mud. The sight makes my chest ache, a hollow pain that steals the air from my lungs.

He doesn’t fight them. He lets them do it—lets them shackle his feet, chaining him like an animal. His head stays high, his expression unreadable, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the quiet fury simmering beneath the surface.

“Aslanov!” I cry again, my voice breaking. The officer holding me yanks me back, but I fight against his grip, my hands clawing at his arm.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the chaos. “Isabella!”

I whip my head toward the sound, my soaked hair clingingto my face. For a moment, I think I’m hallucinating. Standing there, her face pale but determined is Ada.

Ada.

I blink rapidly, the rain mixing with the tears already streaking down my face. “A-Ada?” My voice cracks, disbelief etched into every syllable.

She reaches for me, her familiar kind eyes wide with urgency. Before I can process anything, she pulls me into her arms. The warmth of her embrace, even through the dampness, is enough to shatter what little composure I have left. A sob rips from my chest, and I clutch her tightly, burying my face in her shoulder.

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