Chapter 10

"A Promise of Blood"

Lorenzo's POV

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I was thinking about her.

Again.

Vee had gotten under my skin, sharp and unpredictable, leaving behind the kind of scars that didn't heal easily. I told myself it wasn't obsession, but the lie tasted bitter every time I tried to swallow it. I'd spent days trying to shake her from my mind, throwing myself into business, into work, into anything that would distract me.

But nothing worked. I don't even know her fucking surname. 

That's why I was in Midtown tonight. Not for her—I refused to admit that—but to focus on the rival activity in the area. I needed something to keep my mind sharp, to remind myself of what mattered.

Still, something about the night felt... wrong. The shadows stretched too long, the air too thick. My instincts prickled, the kind that had been honed over years of navigating dangerous waters.

And then I saw her.

At first, I didn't believe it.

She was stumbling in an apartment, her steps uneven, and blood soaked through her clothes, dripping onto the pavement like some grim breadcrumb trail.

"Shit," I hissed, yanking the wheel and parking haphazardly in front of the building.

The blood led to an ajar door. My heart pounded as I followed it, each step twisting the knot in my chest tighter.

Inside, a young woman knelt by the couch, her hands pressed to Vee's side. Blood seeped through the towels she was using, the crimson staining her trembling fingers.

"Who the hell are you?!" the woman demanded, her voice shrill with fear.

"A friend," I said vaguely, though my focus was entirely on Vee. Her pale face, her shallow breaths—she looked fragile in a way that didn't suit her. For a terrifying moment, I thought I was too late.

"Where are you taking her?" the woman demanded again, clutching at my arm as I knelt beside Vee.

"To my mom," I said firmly, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Who the hell is you mom!?" she exclaimed. Right. She didn't know.

"Sophia Moretti. She's a doctor," I said in a crisp tone.

Her eyes narrowed. "Sophia? You mean Dr. Moretti?"

I nodded. "My mother. She'll know how to help her."

The woman hesitated, her fear etched in every line of her face. "You swear she'll be okay?"

I met her gaze, softening my tone. "I promise. She's in good hands."

The woman—Lily, if I remembered correctly—finally stepped back, though her hands were still shaking.

I scooped Vee into my arms, her weight alarmingly light. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining my jacket, but I barely noticed. The smell of copper clung to the air, sharp and suffocating.

She stirred faintly, her head lolling against my chest.

"Vee," I muttered, my voice low as I carried her to the car. "Stay with me."

Her eyelids fluttered, a faint groan escaping her lips.

"Don't you dare give up," I growled, sliding her into the passenger seat and fastening the seatbelt. "You don't get to quit on me. Not now."

As I sped toward my parents' house, I dialed my mother.

"She's badly hurt," I said without preamble when she answered. "Deep stab wound. Blood loss. I'm bringing her to you."

My mother's calm voice carried through the line. "Drive carefully. I'll have everything ready."

Carefully. Right. My foot pressed harder on the gas.

I glanced at Vee, her face pale and drawn, and something twisted deep in my chest. I hated this—this feeling of vulnerability, of not being in control. She was just a woman, one I barely knew. And yet...

And yet she mattered.

When I pulled into the driveway, my mother was already waiting, her sleeves rolled up, a bag of medical supplies at her side.

"Bring her in," she said briskly, her doctor's mask slipping into place.

I carried Vee into the house, following my mother's lead to the guest room. The room smelled faintly of lavender, the only softness in a night that felt razor-sharp.

"Lay her down," Mom instructed, her hands already moving to assess the wound.

I did as she said, stepping back only when I was sure Vee was stable on the bed. My jacket was soaked through with her blood, the dark stain stark against the fabric.

"How bad is it?" I asked, my voice betraying more emotion than I intended.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Mom said without looking up. "But she's strong. She'll make it."

The knot in my chest loosened slightly, but it didn't disappear. I leaned against the wall, watching as my mother worked with practiced efficiency. Vee barely moved, her breaths shallow but steady.

"You care about her," Mom said suddenly, her tone neutral but knowing.

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "She's an asset."

"Right," she said dryly, not bothering to argue. "Well, your 'asset' will need rest. And so will you. Go clean up before you scare someone with all that blood. Shoo now."

I nodded, though I didn't move right away. My eyes stayed fixed on Vee, on the faint rise and fall of her chest.

For the first time in a long time, I felt fear—not the kind that came with danger or violence, but the kind that came with caring too much about someone you couldn't control.

It was a dangerous feeling.

And I wasn't sure what scared me more—that I cared about Vee or that I didn't know if she'd still be here in the morning.

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˗ˏˋ Author's note ˎˊ˗

Heyy 

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Question of chapter:

What's your favourite song?

Mine's Perfect by Ed Sheeran

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See you next Sunday!

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Izel

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