Isabel Refugee Book Novels & Stories

Selena paused. “Hello.” Isabel called. “I’m home.” Dear Reader, I appreciate your continued support as you’ve journeyed with me. Your encouragement is what keeps my writing going. Now, you might be wondering, What comes next? How did Isabel react to what happened in the house? Did Selena eventually fell in love with Titus? What happened to Ferdinand and Patricia sorting for the lives of Titus - The Alpha male? If you share my curiosity, join me in the next chapter to unravel the mysteries.

She then told Pedro and Alice about the women who had been captured and turned into sex slaves by the soldiers, and how they were tortured if they didn’t obey. "One of the girls I met in the Laguna camp was killed because she refused to react when the soldiers were assaulting her. That’s how vile those bastards are," Isabela’s eyes filled with tears as she recounted the story. "Everyone hates them," Pedro said, his anger rising. Alice’s stomach growled loudly, and she blushed when Isabela and Pedro looked at her. "I get it. No worries, it’s almost done," Isabela said, stirring the pot of noodles.

“Adrian… wait for me. I will come back. I will finish what I started. Cecilia will die screaming. Hope will disappear. And you… you will finally be mine.” In the filthy darkness of the cell, surrounded by the snores and whimpers of broken women, Isabel Chen smiled. Her escape was already in motion. And when she got out, the bloodshed would be glorious.

Lucy pushed it open slowly. "Hello?" "Lucy. Thank God." Isabel's voice came from the darkness inside. "Please, come in. We don't have much time." Lucy stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Isabel sat on an old crate near the back wall, looking disheveled and frightened. "Isabel, what's happening? Rachel's looking for you. Everyone thinks you ran." "I didn't run. I escaped." Isabel stood, wincing like she was injured. "The safe house was compromised. Someone was coming for me, someone Mirabel sent. I had to get out."

Isabel dressed in a simple and decent outfit. She took a cab to Mr. and Mrs. Abraham's house, when she appeared before the house, her heart raced rapidly and she felt very strange, as if she was no longer part of them. As if she had no family, there was no one who came to visit her in the three years that she spent in the prison. If Scott was alive, he could have come to seldomly visit her. Isabel walked in nevertheless and as soon as she appeared in the large living room, her face met with that of the little boy, his facial features were exactly like that of Nathaniel Dave.

“Can’t you see the striking resemblance? Nathan really is our grandson.” She bit her lip and looked again at the little boy, who this time had a look of suspicion and defiance that made her gasp: Nathan was a Cáceres. … Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Isabella was frantically waving her hands as she packed a suitcase. The room was small, with austere furniture and windows barely covered by tattered curtains. The sound of running water in the bathroom was a constant reminder that her time was limited. Julián was in the shower, but Isabella knew she couldn’t let her guard down.

Eastern Europe, somewhere cold and wet, where people didn’t ask questions and everything felt foreign enough to disappear into. She wore a scarf that covered most of her hair, her coat heavy, and her hands buried deep in the pockets. There were no guards here. No cartel wives. No cameras. No Lucien. No Isa. She was alone. Really alone. The extraction had been fast. Isa arranged a smuggler route through the Baltic corridor. She’d ridden with refugees, moved through truck containers and crumbling train stations, and changed names five times. From Catalina Marín to Maria Lopez. From Maria to Elena Morales. And now—now she didn’t even bother introducing herself. Her mission was clear.

"This is the exact thing we bled through Budapest to secure. A generation of children who will never have to see the inside of a safehouse, learn how to use a fake passport, or know the shape of systemic violence. Children who can simply exist in the light without an alias." Isabella, the elder, was resting in her high-backed rocking chair in the deep shade of the cottonwood trees near the edge of the grass, her eyes peaceful as she monitored the games. She was visibly fading now, her physical frame appearing slighter with each passing week as the illness continued its predictable, unyielding advance through her system. Yet she flatly refused to look away from the lawn or go inside, keeping

Came a crisp reply. Isabel rolled her eyes at his answer. Like Boss like employee, she thought. Viso never talked clearly, always in riddles while Titus was way too straightforward. Isabel gave up, she didn't dare to speak further to him. "Sorry Rita but I tried," She muttered an apology under her breath and sat straight. She opened the novel she had started reading last night. I will always be there for you, I will always protect you, Julian. Isabel's heart sore reading the lines of the hero of the book. They were crudely similar to what Viso told her two days ago in Rome.

I snapped back, glaring at him. “You're not welcome in my life, Mason.. I'm done with you a long time ago so stop forcing yourself on me..I can never accept someone like you after everything you did to me. Besides, I have a mate now..I have a mate and I'm glad it's not you so stop bothering me or following me around!.” “Who's your mate, Isabel? Tell me! Who is he?” He asked, tightening his grip around my waist. “It's none of your business!” I retorted and he grabbed both my shoulders, his eyes staying on mine for a moment, his face etched with curiosity.