Chapter 16: Fragile Lines

Isabella’s POV

The taste of his lips still lingered when I pulled away, it was warm, shaky and forbidden. For a moment, the world had stopped spinning. But then it all came rushing back.

Reality hit me like a slap.

My mother had just been kidnapped, blood still stained the floor, and there I was kissing the son of the man I suspected might be behind it all.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, breathless, my chest rising and falling too fast. “Enzo, we can’t—”

He blinked, confused, like he was waking up from the same fever dream I’d just escaped. His eyes darkened, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance.

“We can’t be doing this, Enzo. Remember, I’m your sister,” I said sharply, forcing the words out even though they burned my tongue. “Step-sister or not, this is wrong.”

The room fell into heavy silence. His gaze stayed on me, It was steady and unflinching like he was trying to read between the lines I was too afraid to say.

“Bella…”

“Don’t,” I snapped, cutting him off. My throat tightened. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then at least tell me where the first-aid box is so I can close the damn wound. You’re bleeding out, Enzo. And after that—” I swallowed hard, steadying my breath. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he bit his lower lip, nodded once, and walked off toward his room.

I watched the way he moved, strong but unsteady, his shoulders tense, the blood already drying around the bandage I’d pressed against his head earlier.

He came back a minute later, a small white box in his hand.

“Here,” he said quietly.

He didn’t sit. He just stood there, watching me as I hopped onto the kitchen counter, motioning for him to come closer.

He settled between my knees as I opened the box. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the cotton wool and antiseptic.

“This might sting,” I murmured, pressing the damp cotton gently to the cut on his forehead.

He didn’t flinch. Not once.

It was like the pain didn’t exist for him or maybe he’d just learned how to bury it deep. His face stayed unreadable, except for the slight tension in his jaw and the faint flicker in his eyes when my fingers brushed his skin.

His silence filled the space, stretching thin and fragile.

“Lorenzo,” I said suddenly, the name slipping out before I could stop it.

His eyes lifted to mine, and the way he said my name in return made my pulse skip. “Isabella.”

The air between us shifted. His voice was low, almost soft.

“Please,” I said, my tone breaking, “if you know anything about my mom’s whereabouts about the kidnapping just tell me. Please help me. She’s all I’ve got. I’ve been through too much to lose her now.”

My voice trembled, but I didn’t care. I was tired of yelling, tired of pretending to be strong. I just wanted answers.

He held my gaze for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then he exhaled slowly and something flickered behind that mask he always wore, something that looked like pain.

“I know how it feels,” he said finally, his voice quiet but full of weight. “To lose a mother.”

I froze. The words hung heavy in the air, pressing into my chest. For the first time since I’d met Enzo, his voice didn’t sound controlled. It sounded broken.

I looked at him, really looked and saw it then. The sadness hiding in his eyes, the shadows of something old, something that had never healed.

“What happened to her?” I asked softly.

He looked down. “She died when I was sixteen. Not by accident.”

My heart sank. The way he said it was flat but too careful, he told me everything I needed to know. Someone had taken her from him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He nodded slightly. “I won’t let it happen to you,” he said, his tone suddenly firm again. “Not your mother. Not you.”

His hand moved before I could react, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. The gesture was simple, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

His thumb lingered near my cheek for a second too long.

“Enzo…” I whispered, but my voice trailed off.

“I’ll find her,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

The way he said it was calm and certain, made me want to believe him. Maybe I already did.

I focused on the wound again, dabbing gently around it. He didn’t even blink. I wrapped the bandage around his head, feeling the warmth of his skin through my fingertips.

“There,” I murmured, tying the ends neatly. “You’ll live.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low.

He stood up slowly, and I could tell the pain was catching up with him. His body was tired, but he still managed that composed look he always had like nothing could break him.

As he turned to leave, something inside me clenched.

“Enzo,” I called softly.

He paused in the doorway, his back still to me.

“Don’t shut me out,” I said quietly. “Please.”

He didn’t reply right away. When he finally turned, his expression softened just slightly almost like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“I won’t,” he said at last. “Not anymore.”

And then he disappeared into his room, the soft click of the door echoing through the empty house.

I sat there on the counter for a long time, staring at the first-aid box, my chest tight.

Everything inside me felt like it was shifting like the world I thought I understood was falling apart piece by piece.

I should’ve been focused on my mom. I was but in the middle of all the fear and confusion, something else was blooming. Something dangerous.

I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath my palm.

No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

I was falling for him.

And it terrified me.