Isabella's POV
I thought rescue would be loud.
I imagined shouting. Doors breaking. Chaos spilling through the corridors like a flood strong enough to sweep me away from this place. I thought freedom would announce itself with noise, sirens, boots, and raised voices. Something dramatic enough to justify the terror clawing at my chest.
And yes, there was yelling, crashing, and breaking, but then the rescue arrived with a grin.
Lazar Volkov stood there like he owned the air itself, broad shoulders filling the frame, dark hair perfectly styled despite the chaos that had preceded him. His lips were curved into a grin that was far too pleased for someone who had supposedly come to help.
"Well," he drawled, eyes flicking over me from head to toe. "You called me to help you, angel."
Relief surged through me so violently it made my knees weak.
But someone stood behind him...
My breath hitched.
Nikolai.
