Isabella’s POV
I couldn’t sleep. I had stayed at his apartment, too exhausted from the day’s events to go back home. The apartment felt too empty — almost too quiet — for someone like him. I sat on the couch, still wearing the black hoodie I had thrown on earlier, wrapped in the unfamiliar comfort of his space.
I rolled over in his bed, tossing the covers off, unable to find any peace. The thoughts of Leandro kept swirling around in my mind. His words, his touch, everything about him that made me feel both alive and terrified. I had wanted to walk away, but now I wasn’t so sure. He had dug his claws into me, and the more I tried to push him out of my thoughts, the deeper he seemed to burrow under my skin.
I picked up my phone, staring at the blank screen for a moment before I decided to send him a text.
"Where are you?"
I hit send and waited. Seconds turned into minutes, but there was no reply. The silence made my skin prickle with unease.
I threw the phone onto the couch and wandered into the living room, pacing back and forth. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on the verge of doing something I couldn’t take back.
Then I heard the sound of the door opening. I froze.
Leandro.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with something that made my pulse race.
My heart skipped a beat, but when I turned toward him, the sight that greeted me stopped me dead in my tracks. He stood in the doorway, his clothes soaked in dark, crimson blood. It was everywhere, splattered across his chest, his arms, dripping to the floor. His eyes locked with mine, and for a brief moment, he didn’t move.
The shock hit me hard, and my breath caught in my throat.
He staggered forward, and before I could do anything, he collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud, his face contorted in pain.
“Leandro!” I rushed toward him, panic rising in my chest.
He groaned, his hand reaching out to grab mine. “Get the emergency kit,” he rasped, his voice weak. “And call Albert.”
I didn’t waste a second. His body was shaking, and I could feel the heat of his blood soaking into my hands as I knelt beside him. I quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialing the contact listed as Albert, hoping he would answer.
It rang twice before he picked up.
“What the hell happened?” his voice was frantic.
“I don’t know. He’s bleeding. I think he’s been stabbed. You need to get here now!” I almost shouted into the phone.
“Stay calm. I’m on my way with the doctors. Don’t touch anything more. I’ll be there in ten,” Albert said, and then the line went dead.
I moved quickly, grabbing the emergency kit Leandro had mentioned, my hands trembling. I tried to steady myself, but the blood — his blood — kept rushing at me, overwhelming my senses. My eyes kept darting back to him, but I couldn’t stop the panic rising inside me.
Leandro, barely conscious, slowly started to peel off his blood-soaked clothes. I caught a glimpse of the wound — a deep, jagged gash along his side. It was bad. Really bad. The blood kept flowing, and I knew he wouldn’t make it much longer without help.
I tried to apply pressure to the wound, but I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t a doctor, and the reality of how little I could do hit me hard. Then the door opened again. Albert rushed in, followed by two other men — both doctors by the looks of them, dressed in dark suits and carrying medical bags.
“What happened to him?” Albert asked, eyes wide with shock as he took in the scene before him.
“He was stabbed,” I said quickly, my voice shaking. “He needs help now.”
Albert didn’t waste any time. He pushed me aside gently but firmly, giving me a look that said everything: Get out of the way.
As the doctors moved in, Albert took a step back, his eyes narrowing on me.
He was looking at me strangely. There was something in his gaze — a question, a curiosity that made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there, trying to keep my composure, while they worked on Leandro.
I kept glancing at him, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. His pale face was slick with sweat, and every breath he took seemed labored. I hated feeling so helpless.
I needed to know that he’d be okay. I needed to know that I wasn’t too late.
Albert didn’t take his eyes off me, though. His focus shifted from Leandro to me, and I could feel his gaze on me, sharp and assessing.
"Is he—" I started to ask, but Albert cut me off.
“Are you married to Elio?” he asked, his voice low, direct, a little too intense for comfort.
I stiffened. “What?”
“Are you married to Elio?” he repeated, this time with a dangerous edge in his voice.
The question hit me like a slap. I froze, my pulse spiking, and before I could even process the question, the heat of embarrassment surged through me. How did Albert know? Was this some kind of test?
“No,” I said quickly, too quickly, I realized. “We’re not married yet.”
Albert raised an eyebrow. "So, what exactly is going on between you and Leandro, then?"
I couldn’t answer him. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I honestly didn’t know. What was going on between us? There was a part of me that hated how alive I felt when he was near, but there was also the part of me that knew what I was doing was dangerous. It was more than dangerous. It was stupid.
But I couldn’t say any of that. Not to Albert, not to anyone.
“I— I don’t know,” I stammered, turning my eyes away. I couldn’t look Albert in the eye. “It’s complicated.” Albert looked like he wanted to say something else, but then the doctors moved in closer, starting their work with more precision.
I stepped back, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed space. I needed air.
Albert caught my arm before I could move. “What is this, Isabella?” he asked in a low voice. "Are you really just playing games with him?"
I met his gaze then, and the fury that flashed in my eyes was enough to make him take a step back. “It’s none of your business,” I said coldly, shaking off his grip. "I’m not here to explain myself."
Albert studied me for a long moment before he looked over at Leandro, still being worked on by the doctors. He seemed to be getting better, but I could tell he was still in pain, still barely holding on. He stepped back, though, and I finally moved to the door. The tension between us hung in the air like a live wire, but I couldn’t bear to stay in that room. It was too much.
I reached for the door handle but didn’t open it immediately. I paused, listening for something.
Inside the room, I could hear Albert asking Leandro a question, his voice low, but sharp.
"What’s going on between you and her?"
There was a long pause. I could feel the weight of it on my shoulders.
Leandro’s voice was weak but certain. "Nothing’s going on between us. We’re just using each other."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I was just using him and he’s using me. That was all I was to him.
But why did it hurt to hear him say it when what he said is right? Why did it feel like someone had just ripped something out of me?
I pressed my ear to the door, but it didn’t matter. His words were already stuck inside my head.