Isabella Crow Novels & Stories

a voice called out. I turned to see who it was. Isabella. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress with heals. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion catalogue rather than for a wild tour. Her lips were painted red. Her golden hair fell in waves around her shoulders. “Oh, I just couldn’t resist,” Isabella said, brushing an invisible speck off her wrist as she approached, “The thought of Alexander in the wild… mmm. Irresistible.” I swallowed hard, past the knot forming in my throat.

Probably holding her, kissing her, fucking her. While Isabella sat here alone, plotting from the shadows like some desperate villain in a tragic opera. But she wasn't desperate. She was strategic. And she had resources Dimitri didn't know about. Like the girl. Isabella pulled out her phone, dialed a number. It rang twice before a cool, professional voice answered. "Signorina Russo." "Catarina. I need you here. Now." "Of course. Twenty minutes." Isabella ended the call, poured herself a glass of wine, and waited.

Sweats were on her face and clearly, she was crying and screaming not minding that the baby was already out and laying right on her arms. She was Isabella, The head of Warlock community. She was very much aware of what danger her baby was in. Because she had been born, but not as a Warlock like Isabella. She was born, as half werewolf half warlock. It was something odd and the community had called her an abomination. Not minding that Isabella is the leader of the Warlock community, they were ready to tore down her building unless she will hand them over that abominable child and they will kill her, right under the sun.

She took Adriana’s hand and lifted it for all to see. “Tonight,” Isabella declared, “we do not just crown a ruler—we build a dynasty. The Rossi heiress stands beside me. Together, we will bring order to chaos.” The hall erupted again. Adriana’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. She felt Damian’s gaze on her even though he was miles away. Later, when the guests were drunk and the Council elders whispered their plans in corners, Isabella retreated to her private chamber. Adriana followed. Isabella placed the crown on a marble pedestal and turned to Adriana. “You did well tonight. You smiled at the right moments. You stood tall. You made them believe this is more than an alliance—it’s a succession

Her eyes move between the two of us. “Are you two done?” she asks calmly. Madelyn straightens. “I’m sorry, I think there’s been some misunderstanding...” Isabella walks a few steps closer. “You aren’t his cousin, are you?” Madelyn opens her mouth. “Um...” Isabella lifts a hand slightly. “No,” she says gently. “You don’t have to be shy.” Madelyn glances at me. I say nothing. Isabella nods slowly, like she’s confirming something in her own head. “I know you’re his former friend with benefits.”

Her eyes slid to Celeste then—cool, assessing, amused. “And you must be Celeste Montaire,” she added, extending a hand. “The wife.” Celeste took it without hesitation. Isabella’s grip was firm, cool, unapologetic. “Yes,” Celeste replied smoothly. “And you are?” Isabella’s lips curved. “Isabella Croix.” The name meant nothing to Celeste. But the way Arrow’s jaw tightened told her it should. “We’ve met before,” Isabella continued lightly, her gaze flicking back to Arrow. “Long before the merger.”

I spun around, my Glock raised, my heart hammering against my ribs. From behind a massive pillar, a figure emerged. It wasn't Killian. It wasn't a Blackwood Reaper. It was a woman. She was dressed in a simple white linen shift, her hair a cascade of silver, her eyes a haunting, familiar shade of violet. She looked like a ghost, but the warmth of her breath in the cold air told me she was very much alive. "Who are you?" I demanded, my finger tightening on the trigger. "I am the one Lucian couldn't save," she said, her voice a melodic, tragic hum. "I am Isabella Moretti. The Grand Patriarch’s first 'successful' experiment. And your mother’s twin sister."

"Yeah, that's her. She's known for being a little possessive and fiercely competitive. Word is, she's been after Cassian for a while now." "Think she's in for a challenge?" Caleb mused, a smirk forming on his lips. "She might have her sights set on Cassian, but she hasn't met Angry Bird yet. If Cassian is possessive about Angry Bird, then trust me, Angry Bird is just as fiercely protective of him. After all, she's Cassian's girl and Alex's sister, so she's surrounded by bloody mafias. If Isabella thinks she can compete with Angry Bird, she's in for a rude awakening. Angry Bird couldn't care less about anyone's nonsense." As Isabella approached, her sleek dress hugged her figure. She smiled a

Isabella patted Masha’s shoulder and smiled, “Go practice the basics. Ignore the barking dogs; don’t let it bother you.” Masha smiled back, “Yes. Isabella, I hope to learn more from you about acting in the future. Don’t mind if I become a bother.” Isabella raised her eyebrows and beamed, “Sure, let’s learn together from now on.” After a day of intense training, Isabella was exhausted and ready to head home. As she left Knight Group, she reached a crossroad and saw a large crowd of people surrounding her. One of the leaders in the crowd spoke up, “She’s Isabella Rivera. She’s the one who schemed to steal the spotlight from Cynthia.”