He turns and leaves me standing at the side of the car as he walks back inside. I slip back into the car.
I call Vittorio. “Get the doctor, meet me at Bellino’s.”
“Are you okay? What’s happening?” He gasps through the phone.
“No time, I’m good, just get there. It’s Leo.” I drop the call and head to Bellino’s, trying to get there fast without jolting Leo. He looks in bad shape. I pull up outside, and Vittorio comes running down the steps towards me.
“Fuck what happened?” Vittorio rips the door open.
“Enzo,” I grit out as Vittorio gently lifts Leonardo from the front seat. We head into the house and straight to their room. The doctor is waiting, pacing in the room with his bag set out on the dresser. Lying Leonardo down on the bed, we both step back and let the doctor work, stepping in and helping him move to undress Leo. Turning him to assess his wounds, his nose and ribs are broken, and the doctor bandages his ribs. We clean him up the best we can, and the doctor gives him antibiotics and something to help him sleep.
I pace outside the door, waiting for Bellino. When he climbs the stairs hours later, he’s covered in blood. He looks defeated, and it’s not a good look.
“Bellino,” I say softly, and his eyes flick to mine.
“How is he?” His face is peppered in blood, but pale and washed out, and his eyes are sunken and dark. His shirt is covered in blood and lumps of flesh.
“Broken nose and ribs. A few stitches on his cheek, he’s gonna be sore for a while, but he’ll be ok. The doctor gave him something to help him sleep, so he should be out for a little while. Enzo?”
“Dead.” He pushes past me, but I reach out and grab his arm. He turns and glares at the point where my hand connects with his skin.
“Bellino. You good?” He grits his teeth but nods. He turns and pushes inside their room. Whatever happens now, things have changed. The Syndicate has been destroyed, and there’s no one left. Just the three of us, can we work together, or will we destroy each other?
Leonardo
Chapter Thirty
I wake with a start. I jolt and gasp. The pain in my ribs pierces and takes my breath away. I sit gasping, trying to claw for breath as I try to pry my eyes open. One’s still almost closed shut, stinging as I try to look around the room. My head hurts. Wincing as the pain shoots through me. I ache; everything hurts.
My ribs twang as I try to sit up. I turn and dangle my legs off the end of the bed, trying to breathe, just trying to fight back the tears. I relax a little when I realise I’m at home, in my own bed. I don’t know when I started to think of this prison as a home. Maybe the shift came when he came for me. But then I remember how he left again, and I’m just as conflicted as before.
The darkness of the room engulfs me, but the sliver of light coming from the bathroom confuses me. It stings to look at. But there’s a shadow that’s moving in there. Is it him? Is he home? Home, there it is again, that word. Home. I tentativelypress my feet to the cold floor, closing my eyes as I try to put my weight on them, hoping they won’t give out from under me. I steady myself, letting out a breath as I slowly creep towards the bathroom. I take a breath as I step to the door, uncertain of what I’ll find when I get there.
I slowly push open the door, wincing as the light hurts, but my hand flies to my mouth, and I try to silence the gasp that erupts from me at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, leaning against the counter with his head down, his knuckles bruised and bloodied, his breathing deep and measured.
It’s the scars covering his back that draw me in, and I step towards him, my hand outstretched as I long to touch him, but his gaze rises to meet mine in the mirror, and I halt. My hand trembles as I pull back. He slowly stands to his full height and turns to look at me, and I jolt back. There’s blood across his face and smeared down his chest. I can’t take my eyes off him as he slowly crosses his arms, his glare never wavering from mine. My breathing is ragged.
I’m shook; not at all the blood, although the sight of him is disturbing. It’s the tattoo. It wasn’t there before. The only one he has across his chest. My name.
“Are you hurt?” I stutter out.
A slight quirk of his lip as he shakes his head once.
“The blood?” I whisper.
“Not mine,” he growls. I take a step towards him, but he steps away towards the shower. “Go back to bed, Leonardo.”
He grunts, and I freeze. The look in his eyes tells me I should go. As he turns his back towards me and flicks the shower on, slowly unzipping his black trousers, he pushes them and his boxers slowly down his legs, kicking them off and stepping into the shower. My heart is pounding. My mouth dries as he steps under the spray.
The water beats down on him as the water runs red. Pooling in the bottom of the shower, swirling before disappearing down the drain. I let out a shaky breath as I don’t think, I just step out of my pyjama bottoms, tossing them on top of his trousers. I step towards the shower, his back to me, his head down, and the water beats down on him as his hands rest flat on the wall.
Stepping inside with him, I slide my hand gently up his back, and he tenses; his hands ball into fists. His shoulders rise and fall harder than before.
“Your bandages,” he growls.
“You came for me?” I whisper. “You came for me!” I say with a little more confidence.
“I will always come for you, lil’ lamb. You’re mine,” he growls. The gravel in his voice rattles through my chest. I press my hand harder against his back, and he stands, turning to face me.
