Obsessed With My Beautiful Enemy

The kindness between monsters

CHAPTER 16

LENA POV

I couldn't sleep. Not after the look on Salvatore's face, and definitely not after that letter and the fear that had come with it.

Because that was what I'd witnessed tonight. Real fear. The kind that tightened around a person's chest and made powerful men look suddenly human. The kind that made monsters look vulnerable for just a moment.

I lay awake staring at the ceiling long after midnight, replaying everything over and over again in my head. The letter. The photograph slipping out from inside the envelope. The way his entire expression had changed so completely when he read what was written there.

Salvatore Romano was many things if you asked anyone in this fortress. Cold. Dangerous. Controlling.

But afraid? I'd never seen that before tonight, and I couldn't stop thinking about it now.

The fortress was quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. Beside me, Matteo slept peacefully, which meant at least one of us could rest.

I slipped out of bed and wrapped a sweater around myself, thinking maybe a walk through the hallways would help clear my mind. Maybe it would stop my thoughts from chasing each other in circles like they'd been doing all night.

I knew it probably wouldn't work, but I had to try something. Still, I got up and walked anyway.

The hallways were dimly lit with most of the guards stationed outside on the perimeter. The fortress felt completely different at night, less like a prison and more like a place that was carrying far too many secrets inside its stone walls.

I was halfway down the corridor when I heard a muffled sound coming from somewhere nearby. A groan. Pain.

I stopped and listened carefully, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

There it was again. Coming from one of the storage rooms just ahead of me.

I pushed the door open slowly and found a young servant sitting on the floor with his back resting against a shelf. One of his hands was pressed tightly against his side, and blood was staining his shirt.

My stomach dropped immediately. "Oh my God."

His head snapped up and fear flashed across his face instantly.

"Miss Lena."

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing."

The answer came too fast and sounded way too rehearsed, like he'd been practicing how to say it.

I crouched beside him and could see the blood clearly now. "You're bleeding."

"It's not serious."

"It clearly is."

He looked away from me, and the silence told me more than his words ever could have. Someone had hurt him, or maybe he'd been injured doing work and was too scared to speak up about it. Either way, neither possibility sat well with me.

I sighed. "Let me see."

His expression became nervous immediately. "If Mr. Romano finds out—"

"What? What happens if he finds out?"

"He won't be happy that you're here."

That almost made me laugh, almost. Everyone in this fortress acted like Salvatore controlled gravity itself, and maybe he actually did. Sometimes it really felt that way.

"You're injured," I said softly. "That matters more than anything else right now."

The servant hesitated for a long moment. Then he slowly moved his hand away from his side.

A deep cut ran along his side, not life-threatening but definitely painful and in serious need of treatment.

I winced. "How long has it been like this?"

"Since this afternoon."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "This afternoon?"

He looked embarrassed. "We were unloading supplies."

I shook my head at him. "You're impossible."

I stood up. "Stay here, okay? Don't move."

A few minutes later I returned with bandages and antiseptic from the bathroom.

The servant looked genuinely shocked when he saw what I'd brought back with me. "You brought medical supplies?"

"What did you think I was going to do? Leave you bleeding on the floor?"

His mouth opened and then closed without saying anything, which made me smile despite everything else happening tonight.

"Hold still," I said, and he obeyed without arguing.

I carefully cleaned the wound, taking my time to make sure I didn't cause him more pain than necessary. The antiseptic made him hiss a little. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Neither of us spoke much for a while after that. The room remained quiet and simple and normal, which was such a rare thing inside this fortress that it felt almost precious.

When I finished wrapping the bandage around his side, he stared down at it for a long time. He looked like he couldn't quite believe that someone had actually stopped to help him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and the words sounded genuine and heartfelt.

Something inside my chest tightened at that simple gratitude. "No one should be left injured like that."

His expression changed completely then, and a sadness appeared in his eyes that I recognized immediately. Because I carried the same weight around with me. The weight of surviving things that should never have happened to anyone.

"My mother used to say that," he said softly.

I paused in putting away the medical supplies. "Say what?"

"That kindness matters most when it's inconvenient."

For a moment I couldn't breathe at all, because my mother used to say something almost exactly like that.

A memory surfaced without warning. Her laughter. Her smile. Her hand brushing through my hair when I was small enough to fit in her lap.

The image hit so hard that my chest actually hurt, and I had to look away. Suddenly I was emotional for reasons I couldn't even explain to myself.

The servant noticed immediately, but thankfully he didn't comment on it or try to say anything to make it better.

Instead he asked quietly, "Do you miss her?"

I swallowed hard. Every day. Every single day since I lost her.

"Yes," I whispered, and the answer came out barely above a whisper.

The room fell completely silent after that. Outside, the wind rattled the windows against their frames.

For a moment neither of us moved or said anything. Then footsteps echoed through the hallway outside, heavy and measured and unmistakable.

My stomach dropped immediately because I knew exactly whose footsteps those were. Everyone in this fortress knew them.

Salvatore.

The servant's face went pale instantly, which made my stomach drop even further. Great. Just great. This was exactly what we needed right now.

The footsteps stopped right outside the door, and then the door opened.

And there he was. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black. Looking exactly like every dangerous rumor ever told about him.

His gaze landed on me first, then shifted to the servant, then finally to the medical supplies still scattered on the floor between us.

A strange silence filled the entire room, the kind that made the servant look like he was about to pass out from fear.

I stood up slowly, trying to figure out how to explain what he was seeing.

"What are you doing here?" Salvatore asked, his voice completely calm and matter of fact.

There was no greeting, no surprise, just a simple question stated like he already knew something was wrong.

I crossed my arms defensively. "What are you doing here?"

One dark eyebrow lifted slightly, which probably meant I shouldn't have answered his question with another question.

The servant looked absolutely horrified, like talking back to him was apparently illegal and I'd just committed some serious crime.

Salvatore's gaze returned to the bandage wrapped around the servant's side. "You treated him."

It wasn't really a question, more like a statement of fact.

I nodded. "He was injured."

The servant immediately lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry, sir."

Salvatore ignored him completely, keeping his attention fixed entirely on me. Always on me. And lately I was becoming far too aware of that pattern.

"He should've reported the injury," Salvatore said coldly.

"He was afraid," I replied immediately.

A muscle moved in Salvatore's jaw at that answer, and something unreadable flickered across his face briefly.

Then he looked directly at the servant. "Why?"

The young man froze completely, and I could understand why. How exactly was he supposed to answer that question? Tell him he's terrifying? Say that everyone on this island is scared of him?

The silence stretched out between all of us, and Salvatore clearly already knew the answer anyway. We all did.

Finally the servant found his voice again. "I didn't want to cause problems."

Salvatore stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded once, sharp and decisive.

"Go to the infirmary tomorrow morning."

The servant blinked, clearly surprised by that response.

"Yes, sir."

"Leave."

The young man practically ran from the room, practically bolting for the door.

The second he disappeared, silence returned to the storage room. Dangerous silence. The kind that always seemed to happen whenever Salvatore and I were alone together.

I busied myself putting away the medical supplies that were still scattered around the room, mostly because his eyes were making me nervous. Very nervous.

"You couldn't ignore it," he said finally, his voice quieter than before.

I looked up from what I was doing. "What?"

"The injury."

I shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "No."

"Why?"

That was a simple question on the surface, but the answer was actually complicated.

Because helping people wasn't something I thought about or planned. I just did it instinctively. Because leaving someone in pain felt wrong on a fundamental level. Because life had already hurt enough people without me standing by and doing nothing. Because kindness didn't cost anything, even when it was inconvenient. Because

"I don't know," I finally admitted.

His gaze didn't leave mine for a second. "That's not true."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't avoid this conversation. "Not everyone deserves to suffer."

The words slipped out before I could stop them from coming out of my mouth, and something changed in his expression when he heard them. It was subtle. Small. But definitely noticeable. Like my answer had actually affected him somehow.

For a long moment he said nothing at all. He just watched me, the way he always watched me, like I was some kind of puzzle he couldn't solve. Like every single word I said mattered to him. Like every breath I took mattered.

The attention should've felt uncomfortable and invasive. Instead it did something much worse than that. It made me acutely aware of him in ways I didn't want to be.

The roughness in his voice when he spoke. The exhaustion that always seemed to be around his eyes. The fact that despite everything he claimed about not caring about anyone, he had personally carried Matteo back to safety that night. The fact that he'd been protecting both of us from things he never talked about.

Those were dangerous thoughts. Very dangerous thoughts to be having.

"You should stop looking at me like that," I said, and the words escaped before I could stop them from coming out.

A slow smile touched one corner of his mouth then, something rare and almost shocking to see.

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Do I?"

I rolled my eyes at him, exasperated by the game he was playing.

His smile grew slightly wider than before.

God. That smile was becoming a serious problem, and I knew it. Because every time it appeared, the monster disappeared for just a few seconds. And somehow that version of him felt even more dangerous than the violent one.

"You helped someone who couldn't offer you anything in return."

His voice softened.

"Most people don't do that."

I swallowed. Something in his tone felt different. Personal.

"Most people should."

His eyes held mine. Longer than necessary. Long enough to make my pulse misbehave. Long enough to make the room feel smaller. The air is thicker. The distance between us is suddenly noticeable.

Neither of us moved. Neither of us looked away.

And once again I found myself wondering when exactly everything became so complicated. When exactly hatred became confusion. When exactly confusion became awareness. When exactly Salvatore Romano became impossible to ignore.

A phone suddenly rang.

The sharp sound shattered the moment instantly. Salvatore's expression changed. The softness vanished. The mafia king returned.

He pulled the phone from his pocket. Looked at the screen.

Then went completely still. Every muscle in his body locked.

The reaction was immediate. Severe. Fear curled inside my stomach.

Because I'd already seen that expression once tonight. After the letter.

Slowly, Salvatore answered the call. He didn't speak. He just listened.

The longer he listened, the darker his face became.

A terrible feeling settled over me.

When the call ended, silence filled the room.

"Salvatore."

His eyes lifted to mine. Cold. Shocked. Focused.

"What happened?"

For a second he didn't answer. Then he spoke.

And the words made my blood run cold.

"The photograph wasn't the only thing in that envelope."

I stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

His jaw tightened. The silence stretched.

Then he reached into his pocket. Pulled out a folded piece of paper.

And handed it to me.

My hands trembled slightly as I opened it.

The moment I saw the first line, my heart stopped.

Because the message wasn't addressed to Salvatore. It was addressed to me.

And somehow the sender knew something about my mother that I never did.