Zella
I sat stiffly as Isaiah buckled my seatbelt for me like I was a fragile porcelain doll who couldn't do a thing herself. Inside, I was steaming mad. He would not tell me what was going on.
Could it be something about my father? Was that why he couldn't tell me? No, I doubted it. It felt like something else…something dangerous.
The leather of the across me dipped under his broad frame as he sat down, his stony face staring out the window as the jet roared down the runway. I looked out the window too to see multiple men in Black and dark glasses, looking around, and was that… Was that a gun?
“Sit back, Princess,” He murmured, and I flashed him a dirty look. The jet took off to the skies, and I just had to ask.
“What is going on, Isaiah?”
“It has been handled, Zella.” he said
