Third Person's POV
The man who had been so brazen just moments ago now trembled at the sight before him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
Clutching his bleeding head, he broke down in tears. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't really mean it—I was just talking nonsense! Mr. Chavez, please! I'm stupid! I'll never say anything like that again!"
Blake watched the man's frantic apologies, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He spoke coldly, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
With that, he signaled his bodyguards to carry Leo out of the scene.
Blake wasn't like Leo. He couldn't afford to throw punches in public, not when he had to maintain the dignity of the royal family. If their grandfather found out that they were brawling like teenagers, he'd be furious. Blake wasn't about to let years of careful upbringing go to waste over a fight.
But that didn't mean he'd let this slide. He had other ways to make these men pay—ways that would leave a lasting impression.
Behind him, a loud cry echoed through the room. The leader of the group had kicked his younger brother hard in the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The leader knew exactly how terrifying Blake's words were. When Blake said it wasn't over, it meant something far worse than a simple beating.
Blake didn't take Leo back to his apartment. Instead, he booked a suite at the hotel.
Two bodyguards carried Leo to the bed and left the room. Blake examined Leo's injuries—a cut on his forehead, a few scratches on his chin. He sighed. Leo's face was his trademark, and now it was marred.
Blake's assistant hurried in with some medical supplies. Blake took them and began tending to Leo's wounds himself.
"Ow!" Leo groaned as the antiseptic stung his cuts. His bleary eyes fluttered open, and after a moment of confusion, they focused on Blake's stern face.
"Blake…" His voice was hoarse. He tried to sit up, but Blake pushed him back down.
"Who told you to pick a fight? Look at your face—it's a mess. If Grandma and Grandpa see this, they'll be worried sick," Blake scolded.
"Blake, where am I?" Leo asked, still disoriented.
"A hotel. Stay still—I'm disinfecting your wounds," Blake said, dabbing at the cuts with a cotton swab.
"Ah! That hurts!" Leo winced, his face scrunching up in pain. "Can you be gentler?"
"If you knew it would hurt, why did you start a fight? Did you even count how many of them there were? Four against one—you're lucky they didn't kill you," Blake chided.
"They were saying disgusting things about Sunny. I didn't care if there were ten of them—I'd still fight!" Leo's voice was sharp, the pain sobering him up.
"I thought you and Sunny broke up," Blake said casually as he applied bandages.
"Even if we're not together, I won't let any man disrespect her—not even with words!" Leo growled, his expression fierce.
Blake chuckled. "Sounds like you're still hung up on her. You still love her."
"Love? What's the point? She lied to me," Leo muttered, getting up and heading to the bathroom. When he saw his reflection—his face covered in bandages—he scowled. "I should've hit them harder."
Blake leaned against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed. "Next time, don't start fights. If you're angry, tell me. I'll handle it."
"Stop treating me like a kid. I'm a grown man," Leo protested, annoyed at being coddled.
Blake smirked. "Fine, you're a man. Fighting for your woman is admirable, but next time, don't get yourself killed."
"I'm fine, aren't I?" Leo said, wincing as he moved.
"Take off your shirt. Let me check for other injuries," Blake ordered.
"Uh, that's not necessary," Leo said, suddenly self-conscious.
"Let me see, or I'm not leaving," Blake insisted.
Reluctantly, Leo took off his jacket, revealing a toned torso marred by bruises and swelling on his back.
"Those bastards hit you hard," Blake muttered, pressing lightly on the bruises. Leo hissed in pain.
"Get some rest. Go to the hospital tomorrow for a full checkup. Don't let these injuries become permanent," Blake said gently.