Bad Men Bleed Too
1202 Words
Lena
I didn’t sleep.
Not really.
Every sound outside my house dragged me awake.
Every passing set of headlights made my pulse spike.
Lock your doors tonight.
The way Damien had said it replayed in my head over and over again.
Not dramatic.
Not panicked.
Certain.
Like danger was already moving.
By three in the morning, I gave up pretending rest was possible and sat at my tiny kitchen table with cold coffee and growing irritation.
This was ridiculous.
I barely knew the man.
So why did it feel like my entire life had tilted sideways the second he walked into it?
A knock sounded at the front door.
I froze.
Every muscle locked instantly.
Another knock.
Slow. Controlled.
Not friendly.
My heart hammered hard enough to hurt.
Carefully, I reached beneath the table for the wrench I kept there because living alone taught women practical survival skills.
The knock came again.
“Lena.”
Damien.
Relief hit first.
Then anger immediately afterward.
I stormed to the door and yanked it open.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Rain soaked his dark coat and dampened the edges of his black hair. He looked exhausted.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
Murderous.
The full Damien package.
“You shouldn’t open the door without checking first,” he said calmly.
I stared at him in disbelief.
“You literally just scared ten years off my life.”
His gaze swept over me slowly.
Bare legs.
Oversized shirt.
Messy hair.
No bra.
The shift in his expression was immediate.
Heavy.
Hungry.
My stomach tightened traitorously.
“I was asleep,” I lied.
“You weren’t.”
“How would you know?”
“You sound tired.”
God.
That should not have affected me the way it did.
I folded my arms defensively. “Why are you here?”
Instead of answering, he looked past me into the house.
Small kitchen.
Worn floors.
Secondhand furniture.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Embarrassment flared hot in my chest.
“Don’t.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at my house like that.”
Realization flickered across his face.
Then annoyance.
Not at me.
At himself.
“I wasn’t judging it.”
“You looked like you wanted to buy me a better one.”
“I do.”
I blinked.
“You cannot say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because you sound insane.”
A faint smirk touched his mouth.
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
Rain dripped from his coat onto the porch between us.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us looked away.
Then I noticed it.
Blood.
Again.
Dark crimson spreading slowly beneath his hand where it pressed against his side.
“Oh my God.”
His expression hardened instantly. “It’s nothing.”
“You are literally leaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are the worst patient I’ve ever met.”
“You’re not my doctor.”
“No, unfortunately I’m apparently your unpaid emergency medical staff.”
That almost-smile appeared again.
Faint.
Dangerously attractive.
Then it vanished as his eyes moved past me suddenly toward the dark road beyond my house.
Every part of him sharpened.
Predatory.
“We need to go inside,” he said quietly.
Fear slithered down my spine.
“What happened?”
“Inside, Lena.”
This time I obeyed.
Mostly because the tone in his voice made my instincts scream.
The second the door shut behind him, Damien locked it.
Then another lock.
Then checked the windows.
My pulse climbed higher with every movement.
“Damien.”
No answer.
He moved through my small living room with terrifying calm, scanning everything.
Watching everything.
Like he expected violence to erupt through the walls.
“You’re scaring me.”
That stopped him.
He turned slowly toward me.
And for the first time since meeting him—
he actually looked angry.
Not cold.
Not amused.
Furious.
Not at me.
“At who?” I asked softly.
His jaw flexed.
“They followed one of my men tonight.”
Ice slid into my stomach.
“And?”
“And they know about you now.”
The room went silent.
My throat tightened painfully.
“You said they wouldn’t touch me.”
“They won’t.”
“You can’t promise that!”
“Yes,” he snapped suddenly. “I can.”
The sheer violence beneath the words stunned me quiet.
Damien exhaled sharply and dragged a hand through his hair.
Control.
He was trying to regain control.
“I shouldn’t have come near you,” he said finally.
Something about the quiet honesty in his voice hurt unexpectedly.
“But you did,” I whispered.
His gaze lifted to mine.
Dark circles shadowed beneath his eyes now. Exhaustion pulled at the edges of his composure.
And beneath all the danger—
beneath the terrifying power—
I saw it.
Guilt.
“You got hurt because of me?” I asked.
His silence answered enough.
My chest tightened strangely.
“Sit down,” I muttered.
Damien blinked once. “What?”
“You’re bleeding on my floor again. Sit.”
For one second he simply stared at me.
Like no one spoke to him this way.
Then, slowly—
he obeyed.
The giant billionaire crime lord sat on my tiny couch looking deeply out of place while I grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink.
“You keep getting shot,” I muttered while kneeling in front of him. “Honestly starting to feel unprofessional.”
His gaze burned into me.
“You’re worried.”
“No, I’m irritated.”
“You’re both.”
I peeled back the blood-soaked bandage carefully.
The wound looked worse.
Angrier.
“You reopened the stitches.”
“It happens.”
“You say concerning things very casually.”
His hand moved suddenly.
Warm fingers wrapped around my wrist before I could pull away.
Not rough.
Not controlling.
Just… there.
My breath caught.
The room felt very small.
Damien’s thumb brushed lightly against my pulse point.
His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth.
Everything inside me tightened.
“You should stay away from me,” he said quietly.
I swallowed hard. “You keep saying that.”
“Because you don’t understand what I am.”
There was something almost bleak in his voice now.
Something damaged.
I looked at him carefully.
This man terrified people.
Men with guns called him boss.
People bled for him.
And yet sitting here in my tiny kitchen under flickering lights…
he looked tired.
Lonely.
Human.
“You’re not the only one who’s had to survive ugly things, Damien.”
His gaze snapped to mine sharply.
Too sharp.
Like I’d touched something buried deep.
Silence stretched between us.
Then slowly—
his hand tightened around my wrist.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to possess.
The heat between us turned unbearable.
My heartbeat thundered so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
“Lena,” he said roughly.
A warning.
A plea.
I wasn’t sure which.
Then the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room instantly.
And somewhere outside—
a car door slammed.
- Writer
