22. A Wound You See… or One You Feel?

22. A Wound You See… or One You Feel?
“BOSS!!” shouted one of Mateo’s men. The man quickly dragged Mateo back while throwing a smoke grenade into the battlefield.

FUUUSSSHHH!!

Thick smoke engulfed the warehouse, instantly blurring everyone’s vision. But shouts, the whizz of bullets, and the sound of hurried footsteps still echoed through the chaos.

“LEAVE THEM! GET OUR BOSS OUT! GET MATEO!!” someone yelled from within the smoke cloud.

In a rush, Mateo’s men fled, dragging the severely wounded and nearly unconscious leader. They abandoned their weapons—and even some of their fallen comrades—clear signs of surrender.

Luca slowly stood up, his eyes locked on the fading smoke. His breath was steady, though his heart pounded hard. The tension began to subside, leaving behind only the sound of ragged breathing… and Cassandra’s restrained sobs.

Alfonso approached from the far side of the warehouse, giving a quick signal.

“Luca… we’re clear. They ran. None escaped the outer perimeter,” he reported.

Luca gave a short nod, then turned to Cassandra. The woman sat slumped, trembling. Bruises marred her cheeks and lips, but it wasn’t the physical pain that broke her—it was the shame… and fear.

Luca crouched down, meeting her eyes.

“Now do you understand the risk of being a traitor?” he asked—gently, for the first time that day.

Cassandra only nodded slowly before hugging the suit jacket Luca had draped over her.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Luca!” she sobbed.

“Alright, let’s go home,” Luca said as he stood and offered her his hand.



Luca’s car sped down the city roads, leaving the Rosario docks shrouded in the shadows of bloodshed. Inside, Cassandra sat silently in the back seat, hunched over, clutching Luca’s black jacket. The wounds on her face had begun to scab, but her eyes remained swollen—haunted with fear.

Upon arrival at Luca’s residence, two guards swiftly opened the iron gates. The car stopped at the main staircase. Luca stepped out first, then opened the back door.

“Get out,” he ordered, firm but emotionless.

Cassandra lowered her head and stepped out slowly.

Not long after, Isabella appeared from inside the house, wearing an apron and clean gloves. But the moment she saw who got out of the car, she froze on the top step. Her arms crossed, and her sharp gaze cut into Cassandra without mercy.

“Isabella, help her,” Luca said.

Isabella walked over, scanning Cassandra’s bruised face as if she already knew what had happened.

“Oh, wonderful. The traitor who nearly cost Mr. Luca his life now wants sympathy,” Isabella snapped, her tone laced with a biting, sarcastic smile.

Cassandra looked up, her expression changing. Her breath quickened, but she held it in. Her eyes flashed with anger, but her body was too weak to retaliate. She lowered her head, avoiding Isabella’s stare.

“Follow me! I don’t want to see you looking like a wreck in this house!” Isabella growled.

Cassandra clenched her fists beneath the jacket but followed Isabella into the house in silence.

Up on the second floor, Amelia stood at the small balcony outside her room. Her eyes were fixed on the scene below—Luca, Cassandra, and Isabella’s fury.

“So… she’s back with Luca?” Amelia whispered, barely audible.

At that moment, her eyes met Luca’s. Just for a second. But it was enough to say everything words couldn’t. Behind Luca’s gaze was a tension he hadn’t shown anyone. And behind Amelia’s eyes… was a question she couldn’t even define.

Amelia offered a faint smile, then turned and walked back into her room, closing the door gently behind her.

Luca stood still, staring at the closed door for a while. For some reason, it bothered him.

“Mr. Luca, let me help with your wounds!” Alfonso said, approaching with a first aid kit.

Luca looked at him, then took the kit.

“No need. I’ll take care of it myself,” Luca replied.

Instead of going to his room, Luca headed up to the third floor. Alfonso watched his boss’s movements and snorted.

“Just admit it—you want the Lady to take care of you.”

Meanwhile, in her room, Amelia sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes vacant. She let out a long sigh, then inhaled deeply.

“Why do I feel so upset?” she murmured.

She was still lost in thought, staring at her closed bedroom door, when suddenly—

THUMP!

Someone sat down right beside her on the bed.

“God! You scared me!” Amelia gasped, eyes wide as she realized Luca was already beside her—even though she hadn’t heard the door open.

“Why are you daydreaming? Didn’t you hear me come in?” Luca replied nonchalantly.

Amelia stood up and walked toward the back wall, trying to find the hidden entrance Luca often used to get into her room.

She spun around, scanning every corner with a frustrated and curious gaze.

“Where exactly do you come in from? How do you always get in here so easily? Tell me, now!” she said—half annoyed, half bewildered.

Luca simply gave a small smirk, refusing to answer. His eyes lingered on Amelia, clearly amused by her flustered reaction.

“I’m not telling you,” he cut in coolly.

He then walked over to a small table near the wall, opened the first-aid kit there, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“H-Hey! Why are you taking your shirt off?!”

“Wait—oh my God! Is that blood?” Amelia flinched, her face turning pale as she saw the dark stains on Luca’s back and arm.

Thin bullet wounds, cuts from metal, and patches of dried blood covered his skin.

Luca picked up the first-aid kit and held it out in silence.

Almost automatically, Amelia reached for the gauze and antiseptic solution.

“Sit still,” she said firmly, her tone shifting.

Luca sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her. His breathing was deep but steady—pain clearly wasn’t new to him.

“This is wide… and still open. Does it hurt?” Amelia muttered as she examined the wound.

“It’s a light injury. Doesn’t hurt,” Luca replied casually.

But the moment Amelia pressed the gauze against the torn flesh near his shoulder blade—

“Argh!” Luca grunted loudly, his body tensing.

“This definitely hurts! Don’t act tough,” Amelia scolded while cleaning the wound gently. Her hands trembled slightly, but she moved with care, wiping away the blood and sand stuck to his skin.

“Be gentle…” Luca winced, his face tight with pain.

“I am being gentle. But your wound is filled with sand. God, Luca… how did you end up like this?”

“I’m a mafia man. Pain is my friend,” he muttered with a strained grin.

Amelia shook her head, then grabbed the bandages and wrapped the wound skillfully. Once done, she gave the dressing a light pat.

SMACK!

“Argh! I said gently!” Luca snapped, glancing back with an annoyed look.

“Why would you smack it?!”

Without answering, Amelia sat beside him and stared with sharp eyes.

“Aren’t you tired of living like this?” she asked softly.