Refugee Book Isabel Novels & Stories

Asked an excited Arianna. She handed them the book that she had brought with her. Everyone looked at it with disbelief. "It looks like she's written this," said Hudson. "Where did you find this book?" Asked David Gray with interest. "Uncle David, this book has ranked as The New York Times Bestseller consecutively for the last few months," said Arianna. Everyone was stunned to hear that the little Isabella who had run away from home was a best-selling author of the country! "How do we contact her for an autograph?" Asked Weston at last, looking proud of his Isabella. Arianna smiled and took out her phone.

"Mr. Hans, please, I know you hate me! People in your country hate me, but now, something has happened to Nathan! I'm from Angolla, so I'm familiar with that place. Let me go! I can save Nathan." Hah! Are you perhaps doing this to escape? "Although Mateo didn't think Isla could escape, he still asked this question." "However, Isla shook her head and said, ""Look, where can I go now? My country has betrayed me, so I won't have a home no matter where I try to escape too. After all, I was the raised who raise Nathaniel. Now that something has happened to him, I can't sit here and ignore it! Furthemore, this place is dangerous, but none of you are familiar with this land. So, you should let me s

That meant she had something to protect. Or someone. Or maybe... she'd already lost everything and had nothing left to fear. That kind of woman was the most dangerous. I'd seen it before—warriors who survived massacres, refugees who'd watched their packs burn. They moved through the world differently. Harder. Sharper. Like they'd already died once and were just borrowed time. Like Isabella. The thought sent a chill down my spine, but also a thrill. Because if she had secrets that deep, that dark, then she was vulnerable in ways she didn't even realize.

Uneasy Refuge Nadia's POV I did not want Isla in my home, ever. Every cell in my body rejected the idea. This woman kidnapped Elena, kept my daughter in a cage for two years of her time. She caused us unspeakable trauma that might never fully heal. This was insane. But Dylan argued with me in low urgent voices while Isla was being treated by our pack doctor in a secured room. "She helped us escape, babe. She gave us information and she is terrified of her mother and that tells us something."

she said, placing a worn leather diary on the table, “this is Camila Antonio’s personal diary. In it, she detailed the corruption she tried to expose. She predicted what would happen to her—and she was right.” Ximena sat in still silence. Isabela turned slowly, facing the board. “My mother was silenced. But I wasn’t. I was hidden, erased, made to feel like a ghost.” She stepped forward slightly. “Now I’m here. And I’m not here for revenge. I’m here for what should’ve always been mine.” The board looked between one another. Isabela’s calm confidence was shaking them. Ximena stood. She looked directly at Isabela, her voice sharp but composed.

------------------ Isla’s POV There were days when I thought I would never stand tall again. Days when I held Sophie in my arms, cold and shaking, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Back then, I told myself if I ever found solid ground again, I would build a shelter for others like me. Somewhere warm. Somewhere safe.

And I would find them first. Isabella clung to my side, her presence a strange comfort and a sharp reminder of everything I had to protect. She was trembling, her fingers gripping my arm tightly, but there was determination there too—a spark I hadn’t expected. She had survived the ambush, the sudden violence, the brush with death, and she had remained with me. That alone made her extraordinary. But even her bravery couldn’t shield her from the reality that our world was ruthless, and survival meant shedding blood without hesitation.

“He was the perfect gentleman. He basically saved my life by kidnapping me. Then he let me go and had to save me again. Now he’s stuck with me for life.” “Oh,” the word pops from Anya, then she gives Isabella an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. The words came out before I could censor them.” “It’s okay.” Isabella brushes it off as if Anya didn’t just insult her. “But yes, I rescue sex-trafficking victims. It’s a passion of mine.” “I think it’s amazing.” “You know what else is amazing?” Alexei asks. When Anya shakes her head, he places a book on her lap. “Read it. Best work of literature ever.”

I say. “She does not know I am sharing the location,” Rebecca says. “But she will not be surprised.” A pause. “She has been waiting for someone to ask for it.” I look at the paper on the table. And I think about Isabella in the rain outside her apartment building, her hands over her face, the city moving around her. I didn’t come here to destroy your family. I came here because I had no other choice. She came here because she was trapped. But she spent eighteen months building the rope to get out.

Quite honestly, I didn’t know why I was telling him all this, why I was ranting to someone I had just met. My tears fell freely now. “He looked me in the eyes and had me shot,” I whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was trash to be thrown away.” The room was silent except for my uneven breaths. “What do I have left?” I asked mostly to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me, what do I have left?” Malakai's eyes studied me, and finally, he asked one question. Only one. “What exactly do you want, Isabella?”