ISABELLA

Chapter 52

Leo’s pov

I opened my eyes, like I’d been asleep for centuries. The sterile white ceiling above me blurred in and out of focus, and every breath burned in my chest. I couldn’t remember where I was… until the dull, aching pain in my back reminded me.

The hospital. The gunfight. Isabella.

I forced my eyes to the side and saw them—Matteo, Riccardo, Sabrina, and Aria—all standing around me. Their voices were soft, their relief written all over their faces, but the one face I searched for wasn’t there.

My throat was dry, but I still managed to rasp, “Dov’è… Isabella?”

The room went quiet. They exchanged glances, almost hesitant, but then the door creaked open.

Isabella stepped in slowly, her hands trembling as though she didn’t believe she had the right to be here. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her face pale with worry, but she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

The moment I saw her, something inside me broke. My chest tightened, tears I didn’t even know I had welled up and spilled down my cheeks.

“Mi amore…” I whispered, my voice cracking.

The tears ran freely now, hot against my skin. She covered her mouth with her hand as if the words shattered her completely.

That was when Matteo cleared his throat softly, guiding the others out. Even Sabrina, after a long glare, followed. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving us alone.

I lifted a trembling hand, desperate to touch her, to feel her close. “Come here… please.”

Her tears fell harder as she rushed to my side, sliding her hand into mine, pressing her forehead against my arm as if to prove I was really there, alive.

Her tears soaked through the thin fabric of the hospital gown as she clutched my arm. I felt her trembling, every shiver of her body running into me. I wanted to pull her into my chest, hold her until all the fear left her, but the pain in my back reminded me I couldn’t move the way I wanted to.

She finally lifted her face, her eyes wet and shining as they met mine. “Leo… I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I know you told me to stay in the car, but I couldn’t—I was worried about you. I just… I couldn’t sit there while you were inside with gunfire going off. If I had stayed, maybe—”

I pressed my finger gently against her lips before she could finish, silencing her. The effort made my chest ache, but I didn’t care.

“Shh, amore mio,” I whispered, my voice rough but steady. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. You hear me?”

Her tears spilled again, running down her cheeks as she shook her head stubbornly. “But it’s true. If I had just listened—”

“No.” I squeezed her hand, as tightly as my weak body would allow. “Listen to me. I would take that bullet again a thousand times if it meant protecting you. I don’t regret it. Not one second. The only thing I regret is seeing you cry like this.”

Her lips quivered as more tears slipped free. She bent down, pressing her forehead against mine, her breath warm, shaky, and desperate.

“Leo…” she whispered. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

I closed my eyes, breathing her in. Even with the sting of disinfectant and medicine all around, she smelled like comfort, like home. My thumb brushed against the back of her hand, lingering on the faint red mark I had seen earlier, the one some bastard had left on her.

“You’ll never lose me,” I murmured. “Not while I’m breathing.”

As I brushed away the tears from her cheeks with my thumb, something struck me. Her skin wasn’t just red from crying—there was a faint outline, fresh and sharp, on her cheek.

My eyes narrowed. “Amore…” My voice dropped, rough and dangerous. “Who the hell put their hands on you?”

She stiffened, quickly looking away. “Leo, please. Don’t worry about that right now. You need to focus on your health, you—”

I cut her off, my tone firm, leaving no space for argument. “Isabella. Chi ti ha colpita? Who slapped you?”

Her shoulders tensed, and she shook her head, biting her lip as if she could hide the truth from me. My grip on her hand tightened.

“Answer me,” I demanded, my voice low but burning with anger.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze, unable to meet my eyes. When the word left her mouth, it was barely more than a whisper. “…Sabrina.”

The blood in my veins turned molten. “Cosa?!” My body jerked forward in pure rage, and I tried to sit up, to stand, to do something—but fire ripped through my back and I collapsed against the pillows, groaning at the pain.

“Leo! Stop!” Isabella cried, pressing her hands firmly against my chest to hold me down. Her eyes were wide with panic as she tried to keep me still. “Please, you’ll hurt yourself more.”

“I don’t care!” I snarled, my teeth clenched as fury thundered in my chest. “No one—no one—touches you, Isabella. Not her, not anyone.”

She leaned over me, her hands trembling as she forced me back gently against the bed. Her eyes glistened as she pleaded, “Please… please, for me, stay down. You just survived a bullet, Leo. Don’t destroy yourself because of this.”

Her desperate tone made my rage falter. I looked at her, at the tears threatening to spill again, at the fear etched in every line of her face. Slowly, painfully, I sank back against the pillows, my jaw tight, but my hand never let go of hers.

I whispered, my voice raw but full of fire, “When I’m out of this bed, amore… she and I are going to have a very long conversation.”

The way Isabella swallowed nervously told me she knew exactly what I meant.

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A week later. The hospital room smelled of faint flowers—Isabella’s doing, she brought them every morning. I sat on the edge of the bed, my discharge papers on the table beside me, the dull ache in my back reminding me of every second that bullet almost took me from her.

The iPad in my hands lit up with a video call. My father’s face filled the screen, sharp, commanding, the kind of presence that could silence an entire room without a word.

“Leo,” he greeted, his tone clipped. “So, it’s true. You were shot.”

“Si, papà,” I answered calmly, adjusting the camera. “But I’m alive. That’s all that matters.”

His jaw tightened. “Alive—because of luck. Do you even realize what you’ve done? I warned you.” His voice rose, cold and stern. “I warned you about Isabella. And yet you continue to drag her into our world, into this life. Look what happened—Russians after her, you bleeding out in a hospital bed. Do you think this is a coincidence?”

Behind me, Isabella froze mid-step, holding a glass of water. Her lips parted, her face paling as she realized she was the subject of his anger.

My father’s eyes narrowed through the screen. “That girl will be the death of you, Leonardo. She is your weakness. And weakness in this life will cost not only you, but all of us.”

I felt the burn in my chest, hotter than the pain in my wound. I clenched my jaw, speaking slowly, firmly. “No, papà. She’s not my weakness.” My eyes flicked to Isabella, who looked like she wanted to sink into the walls. “She’s my strength. She’s the reason I fought to stay alive. Without her, I would’ve let the bullet finish me.”

“Don’t be foolish,” my father snapped. “You think with your heart, not your head. And that will destroy you.”

I leaned closer to the screen, my tone cutting. “I’ve made my choice. Isabella is mine. If the Russians, the world, or even you have a problem with that…” I paused, my glare unyielding. “I don’t care”

The silence on the other end was heavy, suffocating. My father’s nostrils flared as though he wanted to unleash more, but then he exhaled sharply.

“You’ve always been reckless, Leonardo,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But this… this will cost you.”

The call ended abruptly, the screen going black.

I lowered the iPad slowly, breathing through the fury boiling in my chest. Isabella stood near the wall, her eyes glassy, her knuckles white around the glass she still held.

“Leo…” her voice cracked, soft and trembling. “He’s right. I am your weakness. Look what happened to you—”

I cut her off, my voice rough but steady. “No, amore. You’re the only reason I’m still here. And don’t ever forget that.”

I held out my hand to her, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, she came to me. I pulled her close, ignoring the sting in my back, burying my face in her hair.

“Let them all think what they want,” I whispered fiercely. “I don’t give a damn. You’re mine, Isabella. Always.”