Chapter 55: Chapter 55 Panic
The private doctor treated Isabella carefully, working fast to stop the bleeding and bandage her shoulder. Her skin was cold to the touch, and her face was pale, but her heartbeat was steady. The bullet had grazed her shoulder, not deep enough to be fatal, but deep enough to hurt like hell.
Just outside the room, footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the door flung open.
"Where is she?!" Lina rushed in, her eyes wide and panicked. Jay was right behind her, breathless and pale.
Leonardo stood near the bed like a silent shadow, still covered in blood. His hands were red, but his expression was cold as stone.
"What happened?" Lina asked, turning to him. Her voice shook with concern as her eyes fell on Isabella lying unconscious on the bed.
"We were attacked," Leonardo said, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth might break. "Someone tried to ambush us on the road and Sniper attacked Bella." His voice was calm but too calm, like a volcano holding back eruption.
Lina gasped and looked at Isabella, tears forming in her eyes. "Oh my god... Is she okay?"
"She’ll live," the doctor replied from the side. "She was lucky."
Jay looked at his brother, then at his blood-soaked shirt and hands. "Bro..." he said softly. "You should change your clothes."
Leonardo didn’t even look at him. He just shook his head. "Not now."
"But—"
"I said, not now," he snapped, voice low and hard.
Because deep down... he didn’t want to leave her side.
His hands may be covered in blood, but for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about his own wounds. His eyes were fixed on the unconscious girl on the bed—so small, so foolish... and yet, she jumped in front of a bullet for him.
"Leo! Go and change," Lina said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She crossed her arms, standing between him and the bed like a protective mother lion.
Leonardo’s eyes didn’t move from Isabella right away. He was still staring at her face—pale, still, her lashes gently resting on her cheeks like feathers. The bandage on her shoulder was already soaked with a faint pink.
He didn’t want to leave.
But Lina’s gaze was sharp, and he could feel Jay silently agreeing from behind.
After a few seconds of silence, Leonardo finally nodded stiffly. "...Alright."
He gave Isabella one last look, then turned and walked out of the room with heavy steps, his bloodied hands still hanging by his side.
***
"Don’t worry, Jay, she’ll wake up," Lina said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Jay nodded, but his jaw was tight and his eyes were restless. "Hmm," he responded, biting his lip hard.
He kept staring at Isabella’s face, so still on the bed, her arm wrapped in clean bandages, a faint trace of pain lingering on her brows even in unconsciousness.
"I hate this..." Jay whispered under his breath.
Lina looked at him.
"Every time someone gets hurt... every time blood is spilled in this family, it’s the same feeling," Jay murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Panic. Fear. Guilt. And then... we move on. Like it’s normal. Like it’s part of the job."
His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he quickly looked away to hide it.
"We never chose this life, Lina. But if we stop, they’ll kill us. One by one."
Lina didn’t speak for a moment. She knew he wasn’t looking for comfort. He was venting the truth that they all carried in silence. The weight of being born into blood and guns.
"You’re right," Lina said quietly, squeezing his shoulder. "We didn’t choose this life. But we can still choose how we live inside it. Who we protect. And how we love."
Jay finally looked at her, and then back at Isabella.
"I just want her to be okay..." he said softly.
Isabella was like a little sister to Jay.
Though they hadn’t known each other long, there was something about her, her awkwardness, her soft heart, the way she smiled shyly even when nervous that made him feel protective. Maybe because she was always so kind, or maybe because she reminded him of the peace he never had.
***
The blood fell down on the wet floor, mixing with the water running from the shower. The steady sound echoed through the empty bathroom, like a ticking clock in his head.
Leonardo stood under the cold stream, unmoving. His body broad, powerful, sculpted from years of training glistened as droplets ran down every curve of his muscles. Steam curled around him, but the chill in his chest didn’t melt. His jaw was tight. His fists clenched.
His eyes were closed, but he could still see her.
Isabella’s small body collapsing. Her pained cry. That second where time slowed down, her pushing him, saving him, and taking the bullet meant for him.
He exhaled sharply, head tilted back under the stream, letting the water pour down his face, trying to wash away the guilt, the helplessness, the... fear.
Why did it hurt so much?
She was just a namesake wife. That’s what he had told himself. Over and over. But her wounded eyes kept flashing in his mind. The way she looked up at him, confused and heartbroken. The way she smiled through pain.
He had called her a burden.
He had said he didn’t want to be responsible.
But when she fell his heart had stopped.
Leonardo opened his eyes slowly, the sharp grey of them now stormy and clouded. The water couldn’t hide the emotion flickering in them. Regret. Anger. And something deeper... something dangerous.
She almost died.
He looked down at his palm, still stained with her blood. Then at the necklace of red trailing down the drain.
He washed off the blood quickly, but the heaviness in his chest didn’t leave.
After stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the white towel hanging nearby and roughly dried his body. Water still dripped down his firm shoulders, sliding over the tense muscles of his back. Every movement of his hand was stiff like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
He realized he had forgotten to bring clothes inside.