A small smile touched her lips. “Sounds terrifying.”
“Terrifying, yes. But also…” I searched for the right word. “Free.”
We walked in silence for several moments, the rising sun casting long shadows across our path. When Isabella finally spoke again, her voice was quiet but steady.
“Thank you,” she said simply—no need to specify what for.
I stopped, turned to face her fully, and framed her face with my hands with careful gentleness. “No one will ever hurt you again, Shorty. That’s a promise I intend to keep.”
Her eyes searched mine, finding whatever reassurance she needed there. Then she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that felt like sealing a deal.
A deal called forever.
We resumed our walk toward the comms center and whatever consequences awaited.
I felt the weight of my decision—and the lightness of it, too.
I’d never been free. I’d been a caged animal; I’d been the Paraskia’s most effective weapon. Now I was simply a man walking beside the woman he loved, making choices based on what was right rather than what was ordered.
The sun continued its ascent, casting everything in the golden light of a new day. Fitting, I thought, for what felt distinctly like a beginning.
37
ISABELLA
Ipaused at the threshold of the meeting room, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Ivan’s fingers tightened around mine—not the gentle squeeze of reassurance but the firm grip of someone preparing himself for battle.
He stopped and looked at me, his body warm and solid beside me, his shoulders squared with a tension I could only feel because it was radiating through our connected hands.
He hadn’t let go of my hand since we’d left that cell as if something fundamental had shifted between us—something primal and unspoken, a bond forged in blood and justice.
He raised his eyebrow, let me see the protectiveness and assertiveness still simmering beneath the surface, and I squeezed him back. No matter what was waiting for us, I would not let go of his hand either.
He winked at me as if trying to lighten my mood before his face transformed back into an impassive mask that showed nothing. This man was handling his emotions like it was his damn profession.
Well, thinking about it, it probably was. But he’d executed my childhood tormentor just moments ago, was protecting me, and now was facing whatever consequences were waiting for him.
And you wouldn’t be able to tell.
In complete contrast, my own emotions churned like yesterday’s storm-tossed sea—relief that Marcus could never hurt anyone again, anxiety about what would happen next, and a fierce protectiveness toward Ivan that surprised me with its intensity. My palms were slick with sweat, my mouth dry as paper, but I forced myself to stand tall beside him. Whatever came next, we would face it together.
The comms center’s formal meeting room stretched before us like a battlefield. The overhead lights were unnecessarily bright, casting harsh shadows across the polished glass table that dominated the space.
I thought we would only face the Paraskia Council, but the gleaming surface was surrounded by—well, basically everyone. My brothers Vince and Matt occupied one side, their expressions guarded and assessing. Alex Falcone sat beside them, his dark eyes revealing nothing. Jemma, Mira, and Fee huddled together near the window, their faces showing concern when they caught my gaze.
Hawk and Birdie stood with military precision near the corner, their postures suggesting they were prepared for anything. The contrast between Hawk’s imposing presenceand Birdie’s deceptively delicate frame reminded me how appearances could be misleading in our world.
The Zotov siblings occupied one corner—Anton and Roman leaned against the wall while Nina stood in front and Mila was drumming her fingers against the windowsill. There was a nervous energy surrounding them even though their faces revealed nothing.
The other side of the table was occupied by what could only be the Paraskia Council. And at the head of the table sat Director Kozlova, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a severe bun that looked almost painful, her tailored suit a shade of gray that matched the coldness in her eyes. She didn’t move as we entered, but her gaze tracked us with the precision of a wolf on the hunt.
The conversations died the moment we entered. Every head turned, every gaze locked on us with varying degrees of curiosity, judgment, and calculation. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. The air felt thick with tension, pressing against my skin like an invisible weight, making each breath feel shallow and insufficient.
Ivan’s body shifted subtly, angling between me and the room. The movement was barely perceptible, but I felt it—his instinct to shield me even now. Something warm unfurled in my chest at the gesture.
This man would always shield me, would always put himself in the line of fire for me.
