Redemption / MADE MEN BOOK 2

Lethal Yearning

Isabella

The days pass in a haze, each one blending into the next. My alarm buzzes at 7 a.m., pulling me from another restless sleep. I go through the motions of my routine, but my mind is elsewhere, haunted by images and memories I can't escape. Every now and then, I get chills, a cold shiver running down my spine as if someone is watching me. Sometimes, I see him out of the corner of my eye—a fleeting shadow, a trick of the light—but when I turn, there's nothing there.

I've been to the doctor. They gave me medication to help ease my anxiety and the hallucinations. It's a small comfort, but it's something. I tell myself that I just need to stay busy, to distract myself from the fear that gnaws at me.

I stand behind the counter of the cozy bookstore, the scent of old paper and fresh coffee mingling in the air. I always work here most mornings, I find a strange sense of belonging here. The soft hum of classical music plays in the background, creating a serene atmosphere. I flip through the pages of the morning newspaper, my eyes scanning the headlines.

Here we go again.

"Criminal Activities Surge in New York," one article catches my attention, the bold letters standing out starkly against the grey newsprint. I read on, my brow furrowing as I absorb the details. I should not read it, I should kill my curiosity, but I can not - the attraction is to strong.

My eyes drift to another article, one that makes my blood run cold. "World's Most Dangerous Men: A New Era of Crime." As I skim the list, my heart skips a beat. There, near the top, is a name I know all too well. A, Aslanov. 

My heart and anxiety both spiral again.

My hands tremble slightly as I set the paper down, my mind reeling. Memories of him flood back, unbidden and unwelcome. I have feared him, most times, the feeling never left. Yet it mingled with other feelings I can not believe I have felt. 

"Isabella, are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Thompson her voice breaks through my thoughts. She looks at me with kind eyes filled with concern. I force a smile, though it doesn't reach my eyes. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken by the news."

She picks up the paper, her expression darkening as she reads the articles. "It's terrifying, isn't it? The world seems to be getting more dangerous every day. You need to be careful, especially with men like these out there." I nod, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling within me. If only she knew. I don't understand why he has left me to my own, a loose end. I know what he looks like, I know details about his personal life. How could he leave me this free? Are the things he has told me fake - lies? 

At this point I am certified delulu. 

My workday comes to an end, the gentle chime of the bell signaling another sale. I bid farewell to my boss. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I step out into the bustling streets of the city.The familiar sights and sounds of Brooklyn greet me as I make my way to the subway station. The sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day, their voices blending into a steady hum. The sun casts long shadows across the pavement, a reminder that time is passing, even if it feels like I'm standing still.

I reach the subway station just as the train pulls in, the doors sliding open with a hiss. I step inside, finding an empty seat by the window. The train lurches forward, the rhythmic clack-clack of the tracks soothing in its familiarity.As the train rattles along its underground route, I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes for a moment of respite. The events of the day swirl in my mind, the newspaper articles still fresh in my memory. I can't shake the feeling of unease. Something feels off. Like I am carrying a burden.