Moonlit Hearts

Chapter 1

**Isabella**

Isabella’s pulse raced the farther she was away from the city. The bus traveled past the desolate roadway flanked by enormous pine trees, cloaking the sun’s rays and shadowing the path ahead. The scent of the countryside was a soothing caress to her conflicted mind, stripping off her city persona. It was ethereal watching the unsoiled part of the Earth flourish amidst storms and hails.

A small town in downtown New York was her destination. Watching the slightly tucked clouds behind the domineering mountains in the backdrop, she wouldn't have believed it wasn't dusk if she hadn't checked her watch. The bus was drowning with a cacophony of young adults spilling their ideas for a musical concert, a child crying for his toy, chit-chatty teenage girls about college and boyfriends, and the most annoying was the male passenger in front, signing with his blistering voice.

Isabella Rivers had heard her ton of off-tune voices preparing for contests, unskilled jovial friends at karaoke, and high-pitched voices from the shower underselling music artists, but this man's off-key notes tore her mood apart. It was difficult to tell if he was drifting between rock and roll or pop.

The passengers threw the singer derisive looks and yelled at him, but he was undeterred to make their life a living hell. It wouldn’t be long before she arrived at Silverwood. One hour would be a fading flame. Her redhead leaned against the clear window, and she saw her reflection. The redness of her hair was a contrast to the sparkling blue of her eyes. An imagery of a flaring flame over icy water. That was her personality. The hot-tempered part of her had been dormant for so long she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She used to get into trouble for being opinionated and raised hell for people disrespecting her boundaries. All that vanished five years ago.

The static radio of the man before her wouldn't have kept singing if she had given him a stabbing taste of her other side. Pitiful, she would give anything to have it back. Every time she attempted mustering the strength of her wild side, she slipped into settling with bullshit. Her blood curdled as she stared at herself. There wasn't anything to say. She had lost the only person who meant the world to her and was on a mission to start afresh.

*Three weeks Ago*

"You've sacrificed so much, Bella. I saw something die in you when he left. All that power you had went with him. I blamed myself for having you go through all that alone. It was quite a burden." Her mother's voice was barely above a whisper on her sick bed. Despite the frail deception of her body, her hold on Isabella clamped like a vice, demanding her undivided attention. "I want you to promise me you would live like nothing matters. I might be inching closer to death but f**k that. You are a smart and independent daughter. You didn't become a nurse because you kissed ass. You fought your way to the top like you always have. If you ever meet the motherfucker, give him a taste of his own medicine."

The thought of meeting the person she wished doom over anyone else never crossed her mind. She doubted the strength to react. Hugs and kisses were an exemption. Clawing at him or beating her frustration and hatred out on him seemed plausible. She was torn between love and hate.

Isabella loved her mother like a best friend; she was one of her badass heroes, working multiple jobs and still living her life to the fullest. Isabella’s mother’s death was a blow, wrecking her emotions and sending her into a pit of depression. Isabella refused to let her colleagues and friends comfort her. She had always been a loner when emotions were involved, never allowing anyone, even her mother, close. From experience, she knew the toll of giving Adrian that power.

When Isabella’s mother was diagnosed with cancer, Isabella was thrown in a bad place, exhausting her savings on the best treatment, but it all went down the drain. Her father had never been in the picture. Her mother warned her about her father being the worst nightmare anyone could have. Isabella could say the same for Adrian, whom she reckoned was her soul mate. Every bit of their memory swallowed her, churning blood in her ear and wrenching her heart so hard she gasped at the effect Adrian was having over her. Her constricted lungs made breathing difficult. Closing her eyes, she counted to three, inhaling deeply and exhaling smoothly.

She wouldn't allow his absence to consume her. The bus drove past a sign that read •Welcome to Silver-wood•. The sign gleamed brilliantly in the sun. Isabella was at peace, eager to begin a life where she would take control. Her hand curled into a fist powered by determination. Her train of thought was again distracted by the off-tune man in front. She wasn't sure how to act until her fingers worked against her, tapping his shoulder. For the first time in three hours, the bus stilled by the sudden quietness of the guy. It piqued the curious eyes of the passengers as they watched him tilt his head toward the backseat. Staring back at her were the beady dark eyes that intruded into one's soul; her heart palpitated at his ridiculing aura to keep her in her place. She had expected an older man, but his curly hair sitting over a dashing face placed him in his late twenties to early thirties. He raised a cocky eyebrow and gave an unpleasant grunt at Isabella interrupting his mood. His appalling mood nearly kicked Isabella out of her alabaster skin.

She gulped down her fear and clenched her teeth to hide it. She would rather die than be bullied by a good-for-nothing. "You have been making me, I mean us, uncomfortable with your talent. Could you dial it down?"

The teenagers snickered when she hinted at his talent. A smile crept on her face. Serves you right. His gaze had lowered past her face to the rest of her body. Isabella paled at his audacity, arching a trimmed brow. His wicked smirk illuminated his youthfulness. Isabella felt her insides slither over slime at his creepy stare. Still, he nodded to an imaginary beat, looking away. Just when she thought he would do the world a favor by keeping his mouth shut, he sang louder this time. Groans and curses erupted, and Isabella felt guilty for worsening the situation. A wrinkled woman with a salt and pepper bob flashed Isabella a menacing look that screamed, look at what you caused; you could have stayed quiet.

Isabella had to do something. Her new life would have no problem backing down. If she wanted a great start, she had to prove herself. She rose mightily, gripping the metal standee, and faced the singing clown. His face contorted with shock, but he licked noisily at his canine.