Isabella’s POV.
I hadn't known it since then but if there was a person ever to be relentless, it was Mekka.
Her voice was insistent.
It wasn’t loud, it wasn't aggressive or anything of the sort but it carried a determination that refused to be ignored.
And at that time of the night, such determination was something I feared
And hated.
She sat across from me on the old couch, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if holding herself together by willpower.
“You have to believe me, Isabella,” she said, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “Esam is my mate, not Isam. I know it in my soul. I don’t care what they’ve done to my memory or how much they try to make me forget—it’s him. I can feel it.”
I leaned back in my seat, I felt weak a little as though the words she said had b
