Page 21 of Stefano
The words break something inside me.Hot tears spill, soaking his shirt.I sob quietly, unable to stop.His grip only tightens, his lips pressing against the top of my head like a vow.
I cling to him like he’s the only thing tethering me to this world.And maybe he is.
By the time we reach the compound, dawn stains the horizon pink and gold.The gates swing open, soldiers standing tall, their faces grim but relieved.The SUV rolls to a stop, and Stefano is out before anyone else can move, carrying me in his arms as if I weigh nothing.
“Stefano...”Alceu starts, but one look from his brother silences him.The soldiers part, Guilia rushing forward, her face pale, eyes wide with panic.
“Andrea!”she cries, reaching for me.
I twist toward her, guilt and relief clashing in my chest.“Guilia!”
But Stefano doesn’t hand me over.He keeps me tight against him, his voice sharp.“She needs rest.She doesn’t need questions right now.”
Guilia falters, her lips parting.Then she nods, tears brimming, and steps back.“Take care of her.”
“I will,” Stefano says, and the way his voice drops, dark and absolute, makes my heart stumble.
He doesn’t take me to the medical wing, doesn’t trust anyone else.He carries me straight to his own room.The door shuts behind us with a heavy click.For the first time since the nightmare began, silence wraps around me.No laughter.No threats.Just the steady rhythm of Stefano’s breathing.
He lowers me gently onto the bed, his hands lingering as if afraid I’ll shatter.I glance down at myself.My wrists are raw, my dress torn, and my skin bruised.Shame prickles hot at the sight.I look broken.
But when I dare lift my eyes, Stefano isn’t looking at me like I’m ruined.He’s looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched.
“Stay still,” he says softly, brushing hair from my face.His thumb lingers at my cheek, tracing the swelling where Matías struck me.His jaw flexes, fury flashing in his eyes.“He put his hands on you.”
I swallow hard.“He wanted you to come for me.”
“And I did,” he growls.“And he’ll never touch you again.”
There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty.Just raw, burning promise.My chest tightens, tears threatening again, but this time they’re different.Softer.Safer.
Stefano disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water fills the room.When he returns, he carries a basin and a towel.He kneels in front of me, dipping the cloth into the water, wringing it out, then gently pressing it to my wrists.
The cool relief makes me hiss, but his touch is careful, reverent.He works slowly, cleaning the cuts, wiping away dried blood.Every stroke of the cloth feels like an unspoken apology, like a vow written in water and patience.
“You don’t have to...”My voice cracks.
“Yes, I do,” he interrupts, his eyes lifting to mine.“I should’ve stopped this before it started.I should’ve seen what you were walking into.You trusted the wrong man because I made you believe I’d never be the right one.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding.His words are raw, jagged, and carved from guilt.“Stefano...”
He shakes his head, continuing to clean my wrists.“This is on me.All of it.”
“No.”I reach out, laying my other hand over his.My voice trembles, but it’s steady enough.“He tricked me.He lied.That’s not on you.”
His jaw tightens, but his gaze softens.He cups my hand in his, squeezing gently, as if grounding himself in the contact.
When he finishes tending my wrists, he moves to my cheek.The cloth is cool against the swelling, and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch despite the sting.His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, lingering, his breath uneven.
“Does it hurt?”he murmurs.
“Yes,” I whisper, then open my eyes.“But not as much as it would’ve if you hadn’t come.”
Something flickers in his gaze—something fierce, something I’ve only seen in stolen glances before.He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching mine.His voice drops to a rasp.“I almost lost you.”
“You didn’t,” I breathe.“You found me.”
His chest rises sharply, his grip tightening on the towel.For a moment, I think he’ll kiss me.My lips part, anticipation thrumming through me despite the exhaustion dragging at my bones.
