Chapter 30: "Fine."
Ten minutes later, the three-car convoy was speeding down the long, paved access road that connected the private estates to the main highway.
Inside the middle JEEP, Isabella lay curled on the leather backseat, her head resting across Aaron’s lap. The high-powered heaters were humming, warming the chilly cabin.
Aaron sat back against the leather seat, one hand resting casually on his door handle while his other hand gently ran through her hair, untangling the tiny bits of dirt and dried leaves from her time in the tunnel.
The front radio beeped. "Boss," the driver said, looking into the rearview mirror. "We’ve got headlights coming fast up the median. Three cars."
Aaron didn’t even raise his head. He kept his eyes on Isabella’s quiet, pale face. "Kian."
"They’re angling to cut us off at the fork," the driver warned, stepping on the gas. "We can ram through, but it’s going to throw the back end around."
"Don’t," Aaron said softly. "She’s sleeping. Just stop the car."
Up ahead, the lead Car veered sharply across both lanes, its tires screeching against the asphalt as it turned sideways, completely blocking the narrow road.
The other two vehicles pulled up tight behind it, forming a heavy wall of black steel.
Aaron’s convoy came to a smooth, gradual halt twenty yards away.
The driver’s side door of the lead Car slammed open. Kian stepped out onto the asphalt.
His dark suit was unbuttoned, his tie slightly crooked, and his face was twisted into a look of absolute, murderous fury.
Behind him, eight armed guards stepped out, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.
Inside the back of the jeep, Isabella stirred. The sudden silence of the idling engine and the shifting weight beside her pulled her out of the faint.
"Aaron...?" she murmured, her eyelids fluttering open. She reached out blindly, her hand brushing against the rough fabric of his trousers.
"I’m right here," Aaron said, his voice soft as he helped her sit up. "Take it easy."
Where are we? Did we leave?"
"We’re on the main road, princess," Aaron said softly, placing a steady hand on her shoulder to keep her from sitting up too fast. "Lie back down. You look dead on your feet."
She rubbed her head, her hearing slowly tuning back into the outside world.
Through the tinted glass of the window, a loud, familiar voice bellowed across the pavement.
"KAZAROV! GET OUT OF THE CAR!"
Isabella froze. The color drained from her cheeks in a single second. Her shoulders drew tight, her hands gripping Aaron’s forearm so hard her nails dug into his skin.
"He’s here," she whispered, her voice trembling with a fresh wave of terror. "He found us..."
Aaron looked down at her hands on his arm. Seeing the sheer, instinctual horror on her face when she heard Kian’s voice made something cold and ugly settle in his chest.
"He’s not touching you," Aaron said quietly, his tone dropping into something flat and absolute. "Stay inside."
"Aaron, wait—"
"I’ll be right back, princess." He reached for the door handle.
Aaron stepped out of the vehicle first, his long coat catching the cool breeze.
Before Kian could take a second step, two of Aaron’s operatives moved up, leveling their rifles straight at Kian’s chest.
Kian’s guards instantly raised their own weapons, creating a tense, silent standoff in the middle of the empty highway.
"You’ve lost your mind, Kazarov," Kian snarled, his eyes dark with fury. "You set off explosions at my shipping yards, you jam my security, and now you abduct my wife from my own home?"
Aaron pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, casually flicking it open to light a cigarette.
He took a slow drag, exhaling smoke into the space between them. "I didn’t abduct anyone, Kian. I just answered a request."
"A request?"
"Yes. And I also gave you an ultimatum yesterday, Kian. You ignored it. I don’t make habit of repeating myself."
"Where is my wife?" Kian snapped, his eyes wild as he tried to look past Aaron’s broad frame toward the tinted windows of the Jeep. "Give her back. Now. Before I paint this highway with your men."
Aaron didn’t answer. He just stood there, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips.
Inside the vehicle, Isabella took a deep, ragged breath. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through her ribs, but something else, something old and buried deep beneath weeks of fear, suddenly flared up inside her.
She was done. She was done hiding in bedrooms, done crawling through tunnels, done waiting for Kian to decide when she was allowed to live and when she was allowed to be locked away. If she was ever going to be free, she couldn’t just run. She had to break it herself.
"I’m coming out," she said.
The driver turned around in his seat, his eyes wide. "Ma’am, with all due respect, that’s dangerous. Mr. Kazarov hasn’t secured the perimeter—"
"Ask him," Isabella demanded, her voice shaking, but firmer than it had been in months.
"Boss? Uh... The Lady is asking to come out?"
Aaron paused and watched her through the dim cabin light. He knew how terrified she was but he also knew how stubborn she could be.
He tapped his ear radio. "Let her out."
The driver hesitated, then reached over to click the door lock open.
Isabella stepped out onto the asphalt. Her hair was messy, her clothes were stained with tunnel dust, and she had to hold onto the edge of the open door to keep her balance in the quiet air.
Kian’s breath hitched. "Isabella!"
He took two fast steps toward her, his hand reaching out, but two of Aaron’s men instantly stepped into his path, their heavy rifles raised straight at his chest.
"Stand down, Carter," one of the operatives grunted.
Kian ignored the guns, his eyes fixed entirely on his wife. His tone changed instantly, shifting from fury into that familiar, smooth, comforting voice he always used when he wanted to control her.
"Isabella, come here," Kian said, his voice rich with feigned concern. "He kidnapped you. He forced you out of the house. Step away from him and come to me. You’re safe now."
Isabella stood beside the car. She couldn’t see the men, she couldn’t see the guns, but she could hear the gentle, manipulative warmth in Kian’s voice... the exact tone he used right before he locked a door.
She stood her ground, her cloudy green eyes fixed in the direction of his voice.
"He didn’t kidnap me, Kian," she said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough to carry over the idling engines. "I asked him to take me."
Kian’s smile faltered. The warm, fake concern melted off his face, replaced by a sudden, rigid silence. "What did you say?"
"I asked him to come get me," she said, her fingers moving up to her left hand.
Kian’s expression softened into that familiar, terrifying warmth he always used when he wanted to control her.
"Sweetheart, you’re confused. You’ve been under so much stress. Come home. We’ll leave for the island today, just like we planned. I’ll take care of everything."
Isabella felt a shiver run down her spine at his gentle tone, but she reached down with her left hand.
She felt the heavy, expensive ring on her finger, the band Kian had placed there three years ago. She pulled it off her skin and tossed it onto the dark pavement between them.
The heavy platinum band clinked against the ground, rolling a few inches before coming to a stop near Kian’s leather shoes.
Kian stared down at the ring, his face turning completely still.
The tiny metallic ’clink’ of the ring hitting the ground sounded as loud as a gunshot.
"I’m done," Isabella said, her voice steadying. "I want a divorce, Kian. It’s over. I am never going back to that house again."
For three long seconds, nobody moved.
Kian stared down at the small band resting in the dust near his shoe. Then, slowly, the tension left his shoulders.
The anger disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a dark, terrifying calmness. He let out a low, dry laugh...
It wasn’t a happy sound. It was a cold, quiet chuckle that made the guards around him look uneasy.
The warm, protective mask he had worn for years vanished entirely, leaving behind a face that was hollow and cruel.
He stepped on the ring, crushing it under his boot.
"Fine," Kian said, his voice flat and empty. He looked directly at Isabella, his eyes cold as ice. "We can sign the papers, Isabella. But don’t think for a single second that this changes anything."
He leaned forward slightly, his words dropping into a low, terrifying murmur that cut through the space between them.
"No one knows you better than I do," Kian whispered. "You’ll remember who you belong to soon enough."
Without another word, Kian turned on his heel, climbed into the back of his car, and slammed the door. His convoy backed up quickly, turning around on the narrow road, and sped away toward the city.