CHAPTER 14 - BLOOD AND OATHS
1150 Words
The city blurred into streaks of rain and neon as the car tore through the streets. Tires screeched, engines roared, but all I could feel was Isabella’s fragile weight against me in the backseat.
Every bump made her body jolt, a faint sound escaping her lips. Too pale. Too still.
“No, no, no…” My whisper broke against her hair. My hands pressed tighter over her wound, blood soaking warm and endless through my fingers. “Stay with me, mi reina. Please… don’t you dare leave me.”
Her lips parted, the faintest breath escaping. “Alejandro…”
The sound shattered me. My throat closed, my chest burned, but I forced my voice steady. “I’m here. Always here. You’ll be fine. Just hold on.”
But inside, terror coiled sharp and cold. I had whispered those words before—empty promises when my parents lay dying, their screams forever carved into me. I couldn’t lose her. Not her. Not now.
Diego’s ragged cough snapped me back. His grip on the wheel was weak, his knuckles white, but his eyes never left the road. “Safehouse… five minutes,” he rasped. “Doctor’s loyal. Owes me.”
I tightened my hold on Isabella, rocking her faintly as if motion alone could anchor her spirit. “Five minutes might be too long.”
Her lashes fluttered. For a heartbeat, her chest stilled. My own heart stopped—then rose again as her breath whispered shallow against my collar.
“Good girl,” I breathed, pressing my lips to her damp hair. “Just a little longer, cariño. Just a little more.”
Outside, the city sprawled endless, red lights cursing us, every turn an eternity. Antonio’s face burned in my mind—his smirk, his venom, the way he called her my weakness.
No. She wasn’t weakness. She was the only reason I breathed. Antonio thought he’d broken me by striking at her. He had no idea what he’d unleashed.
Diego swerved into a narrow alley, tires hissing on wet stone. Ahead, the warehouse loomed—dark, scarred, silent.
The brakes screamed. The car jolted to a stop. Diego sagged forward, coughing blood, his strength gone.
“Stay,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare move.”
Before he could answer, I shoved the door open. Rain lashed down like knives, soaking through my shirt until Isabella’s blood mixed with water.
The warehouse door opened before I could knock. A man stepped out—silver hair, sharp glasses fogged by the storm. His eyes widened at the sight of me carrying her.
“Inside. Now.”
I didn’t waste a breath.
The safehouse smelled of dust and metal. The doctor led us through crates into a narrow room lit by one harsh lamp. The air reeked of antiseptic, but Isabella’s blood drowned it out.
“Lay her down,” he barked.
My arms resisted. Letting her go felt like surrender. But her pulse was fading, her lips blue. With a growl tearing my chest, I laid her on the steel table.
The doctor snapped on gloves, pulling tools from a worn leather case. “Bullet missed the lung but tore deep. She’s lost too much blood. If I don’t work now, she dies.”
Rage tore through me. “Then save her.”
He shot me a glare, cold and sharp. “Not if you hover. Get out of my way.”
Every instinct screamed to stay, to never release her from my sight. But his voice carried authority I couldn’t challenge. My fists clenched as I stepped back, the weight of helplessness pressing me flat.
Diego staggered in, collapsing into a chair. His shirt was soaked with blood, his breaths shallow, but his eyes locked on Isabella with the same desperation as mine.
“She’ll live,” he muttered—half prayer, half command.
The lamp flickered. The clock ticked. The doctor’s tools clinked. My world narrowed to one faint sound—the rasp of Isabella’s breathing.
But even that was fading.
The doctor’s hands moved fast, pulling the bullet free, stitching with ruthless precision. The smell of iron and antiseptic burned my throat.
I wasn’t afraid of blood—I was born in it. But hers? Every drop drained me more than a bullet ever could.
Diego coughed, crimson speckling his lips. I turned toward him, but he waved me off. “Don’t. She needs you more than I do.”
“You’re bleeding out,” I snapped.
His crooked grin cut me. “I’ll live. She won’t if you keep pacing.”
My chest tightened. He was right. My fists unclenched, though fury still scorched my veins.
Minutes dragged like centuries until finally, the doctor leaned back, gloves drenched, forehead slick with sweat.
“She’s stable,” he said. “The bullet’s out. Wound closed. But she’s weak. Without blood, she won’t last the night.”
Relief slammed through me so hard my knees buckled. “Take mine.”
The doctor blinked. “You don’t know her type—”
“I said,” I growled, “take mine.”
Diego coughed, his voice breaking. “She’s O positive. Same as you.”
The doctor didn’t waste another word. The needle pierced my arm, blood flowing out of me and into her.
I barely felt it. My gaze never left her pale face, her lashes like shadows against her cheeks.
“Do you hear me, mi reina?” I whispered. “Even my blood belongs to you. So don’t you dare give up.”
The drip carried my life into hers. Color returned, faint but real. Her chest rose steadier.
The doctor finally exhaled. “It will help. She’ll wake slowly. Her body’s torn, but she’ll live.”
Diego slumped back, his crooked grin faint. “You’re… in deeper than I thought.”
“Rest,” I ordered.
But his smirk stayed. “You always swore women would be our downfall. Maybe you were right.”
“She’s not my downfall,” I said coldly. “She’s the reason I’ll end this war.”
The doctor cursed under his breath, tending Diego, but my focus stayed on Isabella. I brushed hair from her damp face, fingers trembling.
“You’ve seen what I am,” I whispered. “And still, you fought for me. You carry my blood now. You carry me.”
The rain softened on the roof. For the first time, my vow hardened to steel.
Antonio thought she was my weakness. He was wrong. She was the reason I would burn his empire to ash.
I stood, fists clenched, eyes blazing.
By dawn, Antonio would feel the weight of every oath I had ever sworn.
I looked back at Isabella one last time, pale but alive.
“Rest now, mi reina,” I murmured. “When you wake, the world will fear my name.”
- Writer
