Isabel Refugee Book Novels & Stories

"And then Margaret died. And Nadia was free. And she came to find me." "She found you here?" "She found me everywhere." Isabella looked around the cave. "I've been hiding in this jungle for eight years. Moving from place to place. Never staying long. Never letting anyone get close." "Except Nadia." "Except Nadia." Isabella smiled. "She was the only person in the world who understood me. The only person who knew what I had done and loved me anyway." "She's dead." "She's dead." Isabella's smile faded. "And I'm alone."

But I held firm for the mission we needed answers. Icarus’s old village. There, maybe, we’d find some clue about the forgotten war, about what really tore wolves and witches apart, and who Vardam Bowen was in all of this. We were far from any road. Behind me, dragging her boots like she was about to faint, came Isabela. "This is inhumane," she muttered for the thousandth time. "My feet are freezing. My hair is turning to ice. I should be in a warm bed, with coffee and blankets... not in this... polar hell."

"She ran away too. When she was young. When she was scared." "I'm not running away." "Aren't you?" Mrs. Patterson studied her for a moment. "Well, wherever you're running from, I hope you find what you're looking for." Isabella nodded, not trusting her voice. The months that followed were a blur of survival. Isabella found work at a bookstore on the waterfront part-time, enough to cover rent and food and the medical expenses she tried not to think about. The owner was a kind man named Thomas who reminded her of her father.

“This is Isabella’s real record. Four abortions, caught cheating in casinos seven times, and suspected of selling arms routes from three families. Her child, no matter whose, shouldn’t ever be born.” I looked at the file and suddenly laughed. “Silas, Father told me a consigliere shouldn’t interfere in family violence.” “That’s true,” he said, kissing my forehead. “But it’s a man’s duty to protect his fiancée.” Three days later, news came from Colombia. Isabella accidentally triggered a landmine on the farm. She was blown to pieces, along with her precious child. After kneeling at the blast site all night, Theo requested to return to Sicily the next day.

Isabel froze, her hand still on the door, confusion and shock flickering across her face. Valentina tilted her head, all effortless charm. “Hello again, Isabel. I hope you don’t mind the surprise.” My pulse quickened. Then she nudged her suitcase forward. “So… where should I put my things?” Isabelle turned to me. The hurt in her eyes shattered into something far more dangerous. “ Isa, I was about to tell you-” She didn’t even let me finish. She stormed upstairs. I glared at Valentina, rage written all over my face, then followed Isabelle upstairs

Isabella remained static, she no longer knew if it had been a good idea to have attended that family reunion, but just imagining having to return to the shelter, a chill ran through her body. No! It was impossible, she couldn't go back because she knew what was waiting there, it was preferable to live on the street. "Miss?" The clerk who accompanied her to the cabin called her, making her react with a start. "Don't worry, as I understood, you're a Sinclair too, so enjoy, I got something out of this family, dress up, dress well, eat a lot and have fun..." The boy smiled warmly at her, getting Isabella to calm her nerves a little.

I roll my eyes and try to calm down. “Hi, I’m Dom. Don’t believe we’ve met, I’ve been too captivated by your friend here to notice you.” He says while looking seductively at the stupid boy who was all shades of red now. I grimace but I don’t miss the subtle question he’s asking. I look at her to confirm that he really is just a friend. She doesn’t seem disturbed. Good. He is still an idiot though. “Oh, I’m Isla. And I’m sorry if I seemed rude interrupting you guys like that. Ev I’ll just wait at the bar for you.”

"Give us your address." This is crazy. I'm about to bring three strangers home to fuck me in my marriage bed so my chcheating and abusive husband walks in on us. The old Isabel, the one who gave up everything to please a man who hurt her would never, but that Isabel is dead. She died tonight in that hotel suite, watching her husband choose cruelty over love for the final time. This Isabel? She's done being a victim. I pull out my phone with steady hands and text them the address.

“It’s not anything.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Right.” Awkward. Tense. Uncomfortable. I exhaled slowly, already regretting everything. Coming here. Agreeing to help. Letting myself get pulled into whatever mess this was. I was just Isabel. The hidden girl and somehow… I had walked straight into a life that was anything but quiet.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean" She looked up, a small smile on her lips. "It is all right. I understand what you meant. And this is certainly an interesting book. This woman finds herself stranded on an island after her ship breaks apart on the rocks. She swims to shore but is utterly alone until she spies a figure on a distant hill" "Aw You found out my secret." He recognized the book. It was called Lady Isabelle and the Lord of the Dark Isle. It was one of L. R. Gloucester's works, a rather torrid Gothic novel.