Dangerous beginnings

Iter - A journey

(Long chapter!! Xx)
Aslanov

The clock ticks towards 1 PM. Two of my men who have also been in New York arrive. Their names not important, blood bound by loyalty.

It's 1 PM, exact.

I pull the hood over my face, making me blend into the people. My men walking behind me towards their own car, they will be accompanying me back home.

My black slim jacket covers my broad shoulders as I check my gun in the back of my belt.

My car awaits, a sleek black figure in the midst of the bustling city. The weight of my responsibilities pulls me toward the vehicle, each step echoing the echoes of decisions made and paths chosen.

Just as I reach for the car door handle, a voice, soft and hesitant, pierces through the ambient noise. "Aslanov."

My name hangs in the air, and I still.

Nobody not from business knows my name, nor would dare run it across their lips in the middle of the street.

It's her voice, a timbre that cuts through the noise of the city, an unexpected melody in the midst of chaos. Slowly, I turn to find Isabella standing there, uncertainty etched across her face. Her presence, unexpected and profound, lingers in the air like a promise unspoken.

In that moment, the bustling streets, the looming shadows, and the weight of my world fade into the background.

She chose to come.

The air thickens with unspoken words as she approaches, her gaze locking onto mine. Time seems to stretch, elongating the moment where our worlds collide. The crowded streets of New York fade away, leaving only the two of us in a suspended reality.

Isabella's steps are deliberate, each one echoing the weight of her decision. I watch as she closes the distance, her eyes holding a mixture of resolve and vulnerability.

As Isabella approaches, her determination evident in every step, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. She thinks she's making a choice, but in reality, she's merely playing into my hands. And now that she's here, there's no turning back.

The city becomes a mere backdrop to the pivotal exchange transpiring between us. As Isabella reaches me, the space between us crackles with unspoken tension.

Immediately I sense something is wrong.

Her voice, a whisper in the urban symphony, breaks the silence. "They know about us."

A wave of complex emotions washes over me – a blend of responsibility, protectiveness, and, against all odds, a flicker of something deeper.

Leaning in, I lock eyes with her, a seriousness underlying my words. "About what Isabella." I ask demanding more information.

The weight of my question lingers in the air. She bites her lip. Her freckles very visible in this light, so are her bruises. 

"My boss- he, he came to my apartment." She looks panicked. She starts looking around, like someone is watching us.

And not long after that I notice the hidden people in the crowd. My reflexes kick in, knowing I can be arrested on this ground only if they have evidence against me, and they don't, not yet.

I'm afraid I'll have to kill the witnesses.

We need to get to Russia, I control most authorities there.

I snap my fingers in her panicked face, "Isabella, eyes on me."

She stills while staring straight at me. Realization sets in that she is betraying the law here, and I think she is realizing that too.