Old wounds, new walls

Isabel’s POV

The basement is dim, quiet except for the ragged breath of the man tied to the chair.

Malik.

And standing over him… Alexander, his grip tight around Malik’s collar, fury thick in his posture. I freeze at the top of the stairs, stunned. His knuckles are white. His whole body tensed. Like he’s one second away from snapping.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

Thank God I got here on time. If Monica hadn’t whispered this location to me, I wouldn’t have even known. It wasn’t easy getting it out of her—she hesitated at first. But the memory of everything we once shared must have meant something. She gave in eventually. Just enough.

I step forward slowly, each movement calculated. My fists clench at my sides as I take in the scene. My voice rises before I can stop it.

“Alexander!”

His body stiffens. He turns slowly. Eyes meeting mine.

The tension thickens instantly, wrapping itself around us like a second skin.

How dare he?