Chapter 2: Rules
894 Words
Victoria Sinclair did not sleep that night.
She lay awake in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling while the events replayed themselves over and over in her mind—the sharp crack of gunfire, the shattering glass, the sudden weight of a stranger’s body shielding hers from harm.
Leo Martins.
The man’s name echoed uninvited in her thoughts.
The private hospital suite was silent except for the faint hum of machines. Expensive flowers filled the room, their fragrance heavy and suffocating. Roses. Red. Her father’s idea of comfort.
Victoria turned her face away from them.
The door opened quietly.
Leo stepped inside.
He had changed out of the blood-stained clothes from earlier. He now wore a simple dark shirt and black trousers, his appearance stripped of anything unnecessary. Still, his presence filled the room instantly. He scanned the space with sharp, alert eyes before focusing on her.
“You should be resting,” he said.
Victoria pushed herself into a sitting position. “I didn’t ask for company.”
“You didn’t need to.”
His tone was calm, professional—detached. It irritated her more than sympathy would have.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“To make sure you’re alright.”
“I have doctors for that.”
“I’m not one of them.”
He took a few steps closer, stopping at a respectful distance. His gaze briefly swept over her—checking for injuries, not admiration—yet she felt strangely exposed under it.
“I’m fine,” Victoria said firmly.
“Shock can take time,” Leo replied.
“I’m not fragile.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“But you’re treating me like I am.”
His expression didn’t change. “You were nearly killed. That changes things.”
Before she could argue further, the door opened again.
Richard Sinclair entered the room, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere.
“Victoria,” he said. “You need rest.”
“I’m not sleeping,” she replied. “And saying it over and over won’t change that.”
Her father ignored the comment and turned to Leo. “Martins. A word.”
Leo nodded and followed him out.
Victoria watched the door close behind them, unease settling in her chest.
They returned less than an hour later.
Leo spoke first. “You’ll be leaving the hospital tonight.”
Victoria frowned. “Leaving where?”
“Your private residence. Security has already been upgraded.”
“That sounds like confinement.”
“It’s protection.”
“And you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“I’ll be with you.”
She let out a short laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“This isn’t a discussion.”
Her eyes flashed. “I don’t take orders from strangers.”
Leo met her gaze evenly. “Then consider me the person responsible for keeping you alive.”
Silence stretched between them.
“How long?” Victoria asked quietly.
“Until the threat is gone.”
“And when will that be?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer unsettled her more than anything else.
The drive to the estate was tense.
The SUV was surrounded by other vehicles, the windows dark and impenetrable. Leo sat beside her, alert, his attention constantly shifting between the road and their reflections in the glass.
Victoria studied him instead.
“You don’t talk much,” she said.
“I talk when necessary.”
“And is this necessary?”
“No.”
She huffed softly and looked away.
When they arrived, the mansion looked less like a home and more like a fortress. Armed guards stood at every corner. Floodlights bathed the grounds in harsh white light.
Inside, the staff waited anxiously, but Victoria dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
“I want to be alone.”
Leo hesitated. “Miss Sinclair—”
“I said alone.”
After a moment, he nodded. “I’ll be right outside your door.”
In her bedroom, Victoria changed slowly, her hands trembling despite her efforts to stay calm. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she noticed a faint bruise forming on her shoulder.
A knock came at the door.
Leo entered holding a small medical kit.
“You’re injured,” he said.
“It’s nothing.”
“It still needs attention.”
Reluctantly, she let him step closer.
He cleaned the bruise carefully, his movements precise and restrained. His fingers barely touched her skin, yet the proximity made her breath hitch.
“You’re shaken,” Leo said quietly.
“I’m angry.”
“That’s understandable.”
She looked up at him. Their eyes met, the space between them suddenly too small.
“You killed someone tonight,” Victoria said.
“Yes.”
“You don’t regret it?”
“No.”
The honesty in his voice sent a chill through her.
“I should be afraid of you,” she said.
“But you’re not.”
It wasn’t a question.
Leo stepped back, restoring the distance between them.
“I’ll be outside,” he said. “Get some rest.”
As the door closed, Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, her heart racing.
The danger had followed her home.
And the man guarding her door was far more dangerous than she wanted to admit.
- Writer
