Chapter 228 I would take a bullet for you

Chapter 228 I would take a bullet for you
♡Leila♡

Cain’s words slam into me, sharp and cruel, and I glare at him through blurred vision.

His green eyes hesitate, and darken, then cloud over, like he already knows what’s about to happen.

My fingers tremble around the syringe. My lips part, but nothing comes out.

“You—” I grit out.

I don't finish when I feel a sharp, sudden pain, burning into my neck.

My breath stutters.

The room tilts.

My eyelids grow impossibly heavy, like someone is pulling them shut with invisible strings. My legs give out beneath me, useless, weak.

I fall.

The last thing I feel is crashing into Cain’s chest.

And then—nothing.

\---

The smell hits me first.

Oil, rice, garlic. Something sizzling.

Stir-fry.

My brain hasn’t caught up yet, but my body knows.

I’m home.

No. Not home. I'm in Cain’s penthouse.

My eyes flutter open slowly, every movement feeling like it costs too much. Light burns behind my lids. My head throbs.

I hiss when pain shoots through the side of my skull.

My hand lifts on instinct.

It was bandaged. Thick and tight.

I really did fall hard down that stairs.

My neck aches. My chest feels heavy. Hollow.

And then—

It slammed me.

“My baby…” I whisper.

My voice sounds broken.

My hand slides down to my stomach.

It's really flat and empty.

The doctor’s voice crashes back into my head.

“You experienced a miscarriage.”

No.

No, no, no.

Tears flood my eyes before I can stop them. My lips tremble violently.

It wasn’t a dream. I didn’t imagine it.

I really lost my baby.

I lost Tobias’s baby. The only piece of him I had left.

And I couldn’t even keep that.

A sob tears out of my chest.

I turn my face into the pillow, shaking.

I failed him.

I failed our baby.

I failed myself.

Another wave of regret drowns me.

Then—

The door opens. My ears picks up soft, heavy and careful footsteps.

I don’t have to look, because I already know It's Cain.

“Before you start blaming me,” he says quietly, “please eat something.”

I hear the plate in his hands. I hear him stop short, like he’s afraid I might explode if he gets too close.

I don’t even turn.

“I don’t want to speak to you,” I whisper. My throat burns. “Go away.”

I face the window, away from him.

He exhales sharply.

“I’m really sorry, Leila. But if you want to find the person who did this to you, you have to talk to me."

Sorry.

That word means nothing.

Nothing.

I snap.

“Will that bring my baby back?” I say slow and weak.

My voice fills the room, wild and broken.

“Will it?” I spin around, forcing myself to stand even though my body protests.

“Will killing them bring my baby back, huh?”

My vision blurs.

“I want my baby back!”

I hit my stomach hard.

Once.

Twice.

“Give me my baby, Cain!” I cry.

The sound that comes out of me doesn’t even sound human.

I stumble toward him, hands shaking, and shove the plate out of his grip.

It crashes to the floor.

Glass shatters.

Rice scatters everywhere.

I don’t care.

“I don’t need food!” I scream. “I need my baby!”

Cain stares at the mess.

His jaw tightens.

Slowly, he looks back at me.

Then he grabs me.

His hands close around my arms. One hand presses against my stomach.

I start hitting him, punching his chest, his shoulders.

Anywhere I can reach.

“Let me go!” I sob.

“Get it together, Leila,” he growls, shaking me. “The baby is gone!”

The words slice straight through me.

“The baby’s gone.”

I freeze.

“I’m sorry,” Cain says quietly, his voice strained, “but the baby is gone. And we have to get revenge. So you need to tell me everything that happened.”

I lift my gaze slowly, and really look at him, then I laugh.

A bitter, broken sound tears out of my throat.

“Revenge?” I scoff. “You think revenge is going to fix this?”

My chest tightens.

“It won’t replace the weight I’m carrying right now,” I shout. “It won’t bring my baby back.”

I shove him with what little strength I have left.

“And if you really want to take revenge for me,” I scream, “then kill yourself. Because everything that happened is your fault!”

He stumbles back a step. His eyes drop to the floor, and for a second, he looks… lost.

“How?” he asks quietly.

Then his voice rises.

“How is it my fault? The plan was simple. Stay with that bastard José while Viktor watched from afar. You were never supposed to wander off to the rooftop. Or the stairs. Or anywhere!”

My heart stops, then something inside me snaps.

I stare back at him, and I start laughing, not because it’s funny, because it’s insane.

“Oh,” I gasp between laughs. “So it’s my fault now?”

I begin pacing, my hands shaking.

“You didn’t tell me your plan included sleeping with José’s fiancée.”

He looks up sharply.

His jaw clenches.

“Yes,” I nod. “I was there. I saw everything.”

My voice trembles, but I keep going.

“You wanted to sleep with her because apparently that was part of the plan. I was supposed to distract her fiancé while you fucked her.”

My chest burns.

“I’m sorry I felt trapped and left my ‘duty post.’ I’m sorry I walked in on your secret little strategy. I’m sorry I needed fresh air after watching you betray me.”

I laugh again, hollow.

“I’m sorry—”

“No,” he cuts in, stepping closer. “It’s not what you think. I—”

“Stop!” I scream.

My voice echoes off the walls.

“Don’t come any closer!”

I back away.

“I want to go back to Vegas,” I cry. “I want my friends. I want June. I don’t want your protection anymore.”

My voice cracks.

“Whoever is after me… I believe they’ll protect me better than you ever did.”

He freezes.

His jaw tightens.

He drags a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face.

“Leila,” he says slowly, “if the person who wants you dead comes after you while you’re with your friend… what happens then?”

I don’t answer.

“Her husband will protect her,” he continues. “He’ll take a bullet for her. His priority is her.”

He looks straight at me.

“What about you?”

My lips part, but nothing comes out, because he’s right.

Hermes would always choose June.

He’s done it a thousand times.

He’d die for her.

And me?

I have no one. Not anymore.

Cain steps closer.

Gently, he takes my hand, and places it against his chest, over his heart.

“I’ll give you the answer,” he says quietly. “I would.”

His voice is flat, but certain.

“I would take a bullet for you.”