Page 219 of Inevitable Endings
Her lips part, she already knew, she heard the news too. It lingered across the entire world and the underworld.
“You don’t have to look over your shoulder anymore,” I continue. “He can’t track you. He can’t find you. No one’s going to make you disappear.”
Tears fall again, but she doesn’t try to stop them this time.
“I don’t know how to be free,” she admits, voice raw. “I’ve never… I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid.”
I nod, understanding more than I wish I did. “That’s okay. You’ll learn. So will I.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her bottom lip trembling, then laughs quietly; a fragile, broken sound that still carries something close to hope.
“You sound just like her,” she says, wiping at her face. “Your mother. She was always the strongest of us. She didn’t wait for permission to be brave, she was naïve, strong, and stubborn.”
I smile, heart aching. “Maybe she passed that on to me.”
She reaches out again, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with a gentleness I never thought I’d feel from her again. And this time, I let her. This time, it doesn’t feel like a lie.
“I’m going to start over,” I say again, firmer now. “Build something from the ashes. Something real. I’m not running anymore, I’m rebuilding. With someone who knows what it means to crawl out of hell.”
She swallows. “The man… Aslanov.”
I nod. “Yes.”
I smile, tears clinging to my lashes. “We both deserve so much more than we were given. And it’s time we take it.”
She nods slowly. “Then I will.”
Another long silence stretches between us, but this one feels different.
Not empty.
Full.
Full of unspoken promises, of years lost but not entirely wasted, of new beginnings carved out of ruins.
We don’t say much after that. We don’t need to.
When I step outside, the sky is overcast, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels open.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m leaving a grave behind.
I feel like I’m finally walking home.
And home is aperson.
Chapter 79
Inevitable Endings
Isabella
I step out of the house with one last shoulder bag slung over me, the strap warm against my collarbone, the weight light despite everything it holds. The door clicks shut behind me, softly, but with finality.
I’ve already packed the rest. The black Porsche is full, boxes, bags, books, little fragments of a life I’m not bringing with me. Just enough to start again. Nothing more.
Aslanov is leaning against the hood of the car, arms crossed loosely, the sleeves of his dark shirt rolled up to his elbows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just watches me with that steady gaze that’s stopped feeling dangerous. It feels likehomenow.
Dominik stands a few feet away, having just said something quiet to him. I catch the tail end of a nod between them before Dominik turns back toward the house.
