Chapter 7: Wounded Control
625 Words
I couldn’t sit still.
Not after what just happened.
The sounds downstairs had finally faded…
But the silence that followed felt even worse.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
Dangerous.
I paced back and forth inside my room, my hands trembling slightly.
Was he okay?
I stopped suddenly.
Why did I care?
He was the one who trapped me here.
He was the reason I lost everything.
And yet…
I couldn’t ignore the feeling growing inside my chest.
Worry.
Real, unwanted worry.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Without thinking, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway again.
This time… no one stopped me.
Slowly, I walked downstairs.
The mansion looked different now.
Messier.
Tense.
A few guards stood around, talking quietly.
Then I saw him.
Sitting on a chair in the living room.
One of the men was standing beside him… holding a medical kit.
My heart dropped.
Blood.
There was blood on his shirt.
“He’s hurt…” I whispered.
Before I could stop myself…
I walked toward him.
“Stop,” one of the guards said immediately.
“Let her,” he said calmly.
His voice was steady.
Like nothing had happened.
But I could see it.
The tension in his jaw.
The slight tightness in his movements.
He was hiding the pain.
I stopped right in front of him.
“You’re injured,” I said softly.
“It’s nothing.”
Nothing?
There was literally blood.
“You’re bleeding,” I insisted.
He looked up at me slowly.
Our eyes met.
And for a moment…
I saw something different.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Just… tired.
“Give me that,” I said suddenly, turning to the man holding the kit.
The man hesitated.
Then looked at him.
“Let her,” he repeated.
My fingers brushed against his shirt as I carefully moved the fabric aside.
He tensed immediately.
“Hold still,” I said.
My voice was softer now.
Focused.
The wound wasn’t deep…
But it was still serious.
“You should’ve let someone else do this,” he muttered.
“Maybe,” I replied.
“But they don’t seem careful.”
A faint smirk touched his lips.
Even now…
He could still smile.
I cleaned the wound gently.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t react.
Like he was used to pain.
“Does it hurt?” I asked quietly.
“No.”
I gave him a look.
“Liar.”
This time…
he actually let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Silence fell again.
But this time…
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
My fingers moved carefully as I wrapped the bandage around his shoulder.
And suddenly…
I became very aware of how close we were.
Too close.
His eyes were on me again.
Watching.
Studying.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked quietly.
My hands paused for a second.
I didn’t know the answer.
Not really.
“Because you’re hurt,” I said finally.
Simple.
Honest.
He didn’t respond.
But something in his expression changed.
Slightly.
I finished the bandage and pulled my hands away.
But before I could step back—
His hand caught my wrist.
My breath hitched.
“You’re not afraid of me anymore?” he asked softly.
I looked at him.
Really looked this time.
At the man behind the control…
Behind the coldness.
“I am,” I admitted quietly.
“But not in the same way.”
His grip tightened slightly.
Not painful.
Just… holding.
“Careful,” he murmured.
“That kind of thinking is dangerous.”
My heart skipped.
“Why?”
He leaned closer.
“Because you might start trusting me.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
I didn’t pull away.
And that…
was the most dangerous thing of all.
- Writer
