Chapter 19 Running Away
Isabella’s POV
“Are you sure about this?” Sarah whispered.
She stood by the door in an oversized hoodie, arms wrapped tightly around herself like she could physically contain the fear trying to spill out. Her face was pale, eyes too bright in the dim light.
“I don’t have a choice,” I whispered back, shoving my passport and a thick roll of cash into the bottom of my backpack.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “He’s not just controlling, Sarah. He’s dangerous. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. If I stay, I’m just waiting for the day he decides I’m inconvenient.”
“My brother’s place upstate isn’t exactly invisible,” she said, glancing toward the window. “And there’s a black sedan parked out front. Same one from yesterday. They’re not even pretending anymore.”
“I’m not going out the front.”
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure it could be heard through the walls.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked quietly.
I swallowed hard.
“I’ll stay at your brother’s place for a while. Alexander needs this wedding fast , the board wants him married, respectable. If I disappear, he won’t waste time looking for me. He’ll just replace me. Once he’s married to someone else, he won’t need me.”
Sarah searched my face, weighing it.
“That… actually makes sense,” she admitted slowly. “But how are you getting out? His guys are literally parked outside watching this building.”
“The fire escape.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s five stories.”
“I’m not looking for a scenic route.”
We stood there for a second longer.
Too long.
The weight of what this meant finally settled between us.
Sarah stepped forward suddenly and pulled me into a tight hug. The kind that wasn’t casual. The kind that felt like it might be the last one.
“Be safe,” she whispered into my hair. Her voice cracked just slightly. “Call me the second you get there. And if you change your mind , if you need help , we’ll figure it out. Okay?”
Tears burned the back of my eyes.
“I will,” I whispered. “We’ll talk soon.”
“You better,” she said, trying to sound fierce. “Don’t disappear on me too.”
I pulled back, forcing a shaky smile.
“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
We both knew that wasn’t entirely true.
She left first , casual, irritated, muttering about needing cold medicine. If they were watching, they’d assume she was the only one leaving.
I counted to sixty.
Then I pushed open my bedroom window.
Cold night air slapped my face. The metal of the fire escape was slick beneath my palms. I climbed out carefully, pulling the window closed behind me.
Five stories above the alley.
My legs trembled as I started down.
One level.
Two.
Three.
The metal groaned faintly beneath my weight.
I froze at every sound, convinced a spotlight would suddenly blind me.
Nothing.
Four.
Five.
My feet hit pavement.
I didn’t look up at the building.
I walked.
Not ran.
Walked like I belonged there.
At the end of the block, I turned the corner and finally allowed myself to breathe. My phone was already in my hand. I didn’t request a car near my building. I walked three more blocks before opening the app.
A white sedan.
Four minutes away.
Please.
When it pulled up, I scanned it quickly , different plates, average car, no tinted windows.
I opened the back door and slid inside.
“Just drive,” I said, keeping my head down. “Anywhere north.”
The door shut.
Then ,
Click.
Click.
The locks engaged.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
The car didn’t move.
My stomach dropped.
“Heading somewhere, Isabella?”
The voice came from beside me.
Not the driver.
Beside me.
I turned slowly.
Alexander sat in the shadowed corner of the backseat, immaculate in charcoal wool, one ankle crossed over his knee, hands folded loosely. He looked like he was on his way to a private dinner , not intercepting an escape attempt.
“How , ” My voice fractured. “How did you , ”
“Did you truly believe you could outrun me?” His tone was calm. Almost curious.
He nodded slightly toward the front.
In the rearview mirror, the broad silhouette of his head of security stared back at me.
Every exit covered.
Every route anticipated.
And suddenly ,
I wasn’t running anymore.
I was caught.
The sedan glided through traffic like it owned the asphalt.
I didn’t fight him again. Not after the child locks. Not after the calm in his eyes , the kind of calm that belonged to men who didn’t argue, they decided.
The city blurred past in streaks of neon and glass. Every red light felt like a missed opportunity. Every turn carried me farther from the illusion of freedom I’d almost tasted.
Alexander didn’t speak.
His presence filled the car , controlled, patient, inevitable.
When the vehicle finally slowed, my stomach clenched. We dipped underground into a private garage that looked more like the entrance to a vault than a parking structure. Clean concrete. Bright security lights. Cameras placed like eyes.
The door opened before I could even reach for the handle.
“Out,” he said calmly.
Not loud.
Not rushed.
Certain.
I stepped out on unsteady legs.
And the car door shut behind me with a soft, final click that sounded too much like a lock.
He guided me across the polished floor toward a private elevator. No crowds. No strangers. Just steel and silence and the quiet power of men who never had to ask permission for anything.
The elevator accepted him like it recognized him.
The doors slid closed.
And we rose.
Higher.
Higher.
Until my ears popped and my pulse turned into a frantic drumbeat I couldn’t quiet.
When the elevator finally slowed, my stomach dropped again.
The doors opened.