AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We arrive at a small cottage along the boundary of the compound, sheltered by trees. He nudges the wooden door open with his boot and steps inside.
The room is cozy and sparse, filled with handmade furniture.
Stefano lays me down on the bed, propping pillows behind my back.
“Comfortable?” His dark eyes study me with concern.
I nod, settling into the soft mattress. “Thank you, Stefano.”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “Rest, Isabella. I will keep you safe.”
A tear slips down my cheek as I gaze at the ring on my finger, clinging to the fading memory of my father’s face. I wonder, had I died tonight - would he have met me in heaven? Stefano squeezes my uninjured hand, his touch both comforting and electrifying.
I close my eyes, steadied by my deep breathing and Stefano’s presence. In this place of refuge, I can finally grieve all that's happened. The dangers I've survived, dangers I never would have faced under papa's care.
A deep exhaustion washes over me, and I want to surrender to the darkness, but Stefano pulls me out of my trance. He helps me into a sitting position, propping more pillows behind my back.
“I need to clean and dress your wounds. It will hurt, but I will be as gentle as possible.”
I nod, bracing myself.
Stefano brings over a basin of water, antiseptic, and bandages. He rolls up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms, and begins removing my jacket. I wince when he slips my injured arm out of the sleeve. My T-shirt is a bloody mess. I turn my head away as he cuts the shirt open to expose my shoulder. I grit my teeth against the sting as he cleans the bullet wound, speaking softly.
“Thank god," he says. "It's only a surface wound. The bullet gazed you. It's not lodged in."
Tears fill my eyes as he begins to clean the wound.
He squeezes my uninjured hand. “Cry if you need to. I am here.”
A sob escapes my lips. Stefano pulls me into his arms, mindful of my injuries, and I cling to him, weeping against his chest.
“Shh,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “Just let me fix you up. The pain will fade away, I swear.”
His words only make me cry harder, torn between sorrow and comfort. Sorrow at how I got here. Comfort that he found me.
He pulls back and begins cleaning and dressing the wound. I try not to wince, or cry out loud, for I don't want to scare him. But it hurts like hell.
At last, to my relief, he's done. The wound is bandaged.
Stefano pulls away, his eyes searching mine. “You should rest now. I will prepare a tonic to help cleanse your lungs. All that smoke must be cleared out.”
I nod, exhaustion creeping over me. He helps me lie back against the pillows, tucking the blanket around me. He hands me a painkiller, and a glass of water.
“I will be right back. Drink this.”
He kisses my forehead and strides over to a wooden cabinet, gathering various bottles and a mortar and pestle. The rhythmic grinding of the pestle against the mortar has a soothing quality as I drift in and out of sleep.
After some time, Stefano comes to my side, helping me sit up. He offers me a cup of dark liquid.
“Drink this. It will help remove any infection and promote healing.”
I take the cup with trembling fingers and bring it to my lips. The tonic is bitter and acrid, but I force myself to swallow it in small sips under Stefano's watchful gaze. When the cup is empty, he eases me onto my back again.
“Rest now. The tonic will take effect soon.”
“Will you stay with me?” I ask softly.
“Always.” He sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in his.
