Chapter 40: The Edge of Truth
“What was that?” I whispered, my voice barely steady, the taste of fear thick on my tongue.
Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to mine, unreadable, but instead of answering, I saw the shift in him, a deliberate change of current. He wanted to steer us elsewhere, away from the question that clawed at me.
I straightened, pulse hammering. “Did you send those men after me?”
His brow arched, slow and calculated, though his body still trembled from pain. “I send a lot of men to look after you, piccola. Be more specific.”
My chest tightened, the memory flashing sharp and hot, Raymond lying bloodied, his voice trembling as I treated his wounds. Rage pushed up my throat.
“The ones who hurt my friend. Raymond,” I snapped, my voice cracking into the sterile air. My hands balled into fists, nails digging into my palms. “I knew it. It was you!”
My voice echoed too loud in the ER room, bouncing off the walls like a scream I couldn’t take back.
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, his gaze sharp but not defensive, irritated, almost wounded. “Stop assuming.” His voice dipped, rough and cold, yet weary. “It wasn’t me. I told you before, and yet you keep asking the same question.”
His words landed heavy, but my heart refused to trust them. I wanted to scream that he was lying, that everything about him was lies wrapped in silk and steel.
Then, quieter, steadier, he said, “It was Petrov’s men.”
The name dropped like a stone in my stomach. I froze, staring at him, searching his face for the cracks that might betray a falsehood. But his eyes burned steady, blue fire cutting through the fog.
My throat closed. “Why is my life suddenly this way?” The words tumbled out in a trembling rush. My voice broke, almost a sob, and I hated that he could see me like this, weak, lost, unraveling.
I didn’t even know if he was telling me the truth.
I tried to catch my breath, clinging to the one thing that had kept me grounded through all the chaos: my dream. “What about my exam?”
His lips curved, not in amusement, but in something far more dangerous. “Oh, that.” He leaned back against the pillow, as though even the pain of his wound couldn’t suppress the arrogance in his veins. “The hospital refused to let you take the exam…” He let the pause linger, cruel and deliberate. “…so I bought the hospital instead.”
The words crashed over me, absurd and staggering. My eyes widened, my pulse stumbling in disbelief. “So you did that… because of me?” My voice trembled, somewhere between awe and horror.
“Yes.” His gaze didn’t flinch. “It was my focus after all.”
Shock rooted me where I stood. This man, wounded, bloody, half-broken, had moved mountains in the shadows, all to twist the world in my direction.
“You’re insane,” I breathed, the realization clawing at my chest. My voice rose into a shout, raw and furious. “Are you crazy?”
“I am,” he said, a faint, reckless smile curving his lips. “Crazy for you.”
The words shouldn’t have melted anything in me, shouldn’t have made my chest ache or my knees weaken, but they did.
Then, with a suddenness that stole my breath, he added, “If you don’t want to kiss me… then a hug will do.”
Before I could react, his hand moved, unyielding even with the tremor of weakness in his body. His arm wrapped around my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me against him.
I gasped, my palms pressing against his chest, warm and damp from sweat, the faint rhythm of his faltering heartbeat beneath my touch. His breath fanned against my neck, hot and uneven. For a second, the chaos of the hospital, the danger outside, the name Petrov, all of it disappeared.
It was only him. His strength, his weakness, his madness, binding me in a grip I didn’t know how to break.
And then…
The door opened.
The sound of it sliced the moment clean in two.
I froze, my body stiffening in his embrace, my head snapping toward the doorway.
Raymond stood there.
His eyes locked on us, wide, disbelieving, the shock twisting into something darker.
The room suddenly felt too small, the air too sharp, the truth I’d tried so hard to bury unraveling between us like a thread pulled to its breaking point.
“Get your hands off her,” Raymond snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air like a blade.
I jolted at the sound of his voice, my heart slamming into my ribs. His eyes were burning, not with worry this time, but with pure, protective fury.
Lorenzo didn’t move. His arm stayed heavy around my waist, his body heat pressing into mine, the stubborn defiance in him radiating like fire. Slowly, deliberately, his head turned toward Raymond, blue eyes cold as steel.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Lorenzo said, his voice dangerously calm, the kind of calm that promised storms.
My throat worked, desperate to force words out… No, please, Raymond, go back, but nothing came. My lips parted, soundless, the plea trapped in my chest.
Raymond stepped farther into the room, his fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body coiled tight. “Who do you think you are,” he growled, “to touch her like that?”
Then, before I could stop him, he grabbed my hand and yanked me toward him, pulling me into the shelter of his chest. His grip was desperate, trembling with fury.
The sudden shift tore me from Lorenzo’s hold, and I stumbled, caught between two forces colliding like fire and ice.
Lorenzo’s lips curved into something dark, almost amused, though the flicker of pain from his wound shadowed his features. His voice dropped to a murmur, low and dangerous, yet laced with pride that made my stomach twist.
“I’m your girlfriend’s boyfriend,” he said.
The words landed like a bomb.
Raymond froze, his eyes widening before the meaning sank in. Then his face hardened, his nostrils flaring, the veins at his temple pulsing as fury overtook shock.
“What?” he spat, his voice cracking with disbelief. “What did you just say?”
The air between them thickened, charged with something heavy and volatile. I felt it in my bones, a storm seconds from breaking. My knees weakened, my throat closing in panic.
Two men, one who had always been my safe place, the other who had ripped into my life like a violent tide, both pulling, both claiming.
And I was trapped in the middle.
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