Page 127 of Dangerous Beginnings

“You’re here,” I cry, my words muffled against her jacket. “I—how—why are you here?”

“Shhh,” Ada murmurs, her voice soft but commanding. She strokes my rain-soaked hair, her fingers steady and grounding despite the chaos around us. “Not now, Isa. Don’t say anything. Not a word. Do you hear me? They can’t know anything.”

“But—” I try to pull back, to look at her face, to demand answers, but she tightens her grip, holding me firmly.

“Quiet,” she says again, more forcefully this time. Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Ada pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. Her face is serious, her brows furrowed, but there’s something protective in her gaze. “I’m getting you out of here,” she says, her voice low but firm. “But you must stay quiet. You can’t let them know—” Her sentence breaks off, and she shakes her head, glancing over her shoulder at the officers swarming the scene. “Just trust me.”

Before I can respond, an officer steps forward, his tall frame blocking my view of the chaos behind him. “We need to move,” he barks at Ada, his tone clipped. “Get her out of here.”

“No!” I shout, trying to break free, my hands reaching toward the distant figure of Aslanov.

Ada grips my arm tightly, her fingers digging into my skin.“Isabella,” she says sharply, her voice cutting through my panic. “Look at me.”

I freeze, my tear-filled gaze snapping to hers. She’s unflinching, her expression hard but pained. “You have to let this happen,” she says. “If you don’t, they’ll take you too. He’s protecting you.”

I can barely see straight through my blurry eyes anymore.

In a brief gap between the chaos, I catch a glimpse of Aslanov. His head turns slightly, his piercing gaze finding mine through the downpour. Something flickers in his eyes—an emotion I feel in my heart—but it’s gone too quickly, replaced by that cold, impenetrable mask.

He sees me, his gaze cutting through the chaos. His eyes narrow, locking with mine for a long, unflinching moment. The world seems to fall away as I stare into those cold, calculating eyes, but there’s something deeper—something real—that I can’t ignore.

And then, just as quickly as it began, his gaze flicks away from me, landing on Ada. His face hardens, his jaw tightens, and with a single nod—subtle but deliberate—he tells her what she needs to hear.

Take me away.

The officers haul him to his feet, dragging him toward one of the armored trucks. The rain makes the chains on his wrists and ankles gleam, a cruel reminder of his surrender. He doesn’t look back at me again.

“Aslanov!” I scream one last time, my voice shattering like glass. But it’s too late.

The officer shoves me backward, and Ada wraps an arm around me, pulling me toward the line of vehicles. “Isabella,” she says, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “You have to trust me.”

I don’t answer her. I can’t. All I can do is look over myshoulder, the sight of him disappearing into the haze of rain and flashing lights tearing me apart from the inside.

As I turn away—his eyes never meeting mine again—I realize just how much I’ve underestimated him.

‘I can’t do that, love.’

He had failed to keep his heart hollow. The man who had built his empire on cruelty, who had surrounded himself with violence and darkness, had let me in. And in doing so, he’d unraveled everything he’d worked so hard to become. For me.

He did the one thing I wanted him to withhold from.

He had built walls so high that no one could climb them, crafted a mask so perfect that no one could see past it. But I had. I had slipped through the cracks, and in doing so, I had become his undoing.

And yet, he hadn’t fought it. He had let me in.

He loves me.

But love, in his world, is a death sentence. And he told me so, he warned me.

But it doesn’t feel like I’m the one who’s died. It feels like he took that sentence for me, leaving me here, alive, breathing, and yet utterly broken.

And as I stare at the empty road where the convoy disappeared, I realize something terrifying: the story isn’t over. Not for me. Not for him.

Because people like Aslanov don’t just vanish. They don’t let the world swallow them whole.

They come back. For revenge. For redemption. For love.

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