ANA:
It was one past midnight when thunder cracked across the sky, shaking the walls and rattling the windows. For some reason, sleep evaded me tonight—something felt off.
And then, finally, Mark and Lara stumbled in, rainwater dripping from their clothes. But my eyes weren't on them. They were on the others behind them—Rio, Raven, and Jaden—who carried a motionless body between them.
Enzo.
My breath caught in my throat. He was covered in blood and sweat, his face too pale, his body limp.
"W-What happened to him?" I stammered, panic surging through me. My feet were frozen in place, my stomach twisting as I took in the scene. His usually sharp features were slack, his dark lashes stark against his bruised skin.
Mark's jaw clenched. His hands were still curled into tight fists as he ground out, "We were set up. That fucker was always three steps ahead of us." His voice was rough, edged with frustration. "We got the kids out... but Russo's gone."
Dread pooled in my stomach. Russo. The most cunning, most dangerous of them all. Even my father had always been wary of him. The fact that he got away sent a chill through me.
"And Abby?" I asked, watching Lara's face closely.
Mark exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing Lara's shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort. "We got her. But she was out cold before we could get a word."
My gaze snapped to Lara. She was just... standing there. Calm. Too calm. Like she had seen the worst of the world and decided it didn't faze her anymore. How much had I missed? When did she change so much?
As if on cue, Rio, Jaden, and Raven dragged Abby's limp body toward the basement. Lara didn't move to stop them. She just stood still, staring, while Mark's hand ghosted over her shoulder in quiet support.
At least she has someone watching her back.
I swallowed hard, forcing my attention back to Enzo. "What happened to him?"
Mark let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "The bastard tricked us. He wasn't Russo. Just some poor fucker in a silicon mask, playing his role while the real Russo made his escape. We fell for it."
I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat when Mark's furious gaze locked onto mine. "And guess what?" His voice was sharp enough to cut. "He got stabbed right where you shot him."
A lump formed in my throat. Guilt tightened around my chest. I was the one who shot him...
But I had my reasons. Right? Then why did I suddenly feel like I'd made the worst mistake of my life?
Lara's voice broke through the thick tension. "We're just worried about him."
As if on cue, a middle-aged man in a white coat walked in. The doctor. Raven quickly led him to Enzo's side. I hesitated, then followed. His room was right next to mine. Amara was still fast asleep inside, thankfully undisturbed.
When I reached his doorway, the doctor was just finishing up, wrapping a thick bandage around Enzo's shoulder and chest. Blood seeped through the gauze. "The wound is deep," the doctor said gravely. "And since the previous one hadn't even fully healed, this has taken a serious toll on his vitals. If it reopens again... well, it won't be good."
I couldn't sleep. The storm outside raged on, lightning splitting the sky as thunder rumbled through the walls. The rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the chaos in my head. Jaden and Rio had been taking turns keeping watch over him, while Mark and Lara hadn't slept either, their eyes fixed on the computer screen, working tirelessly.
By the time the clock struck three, I noticed Rio had finally dozed off in the chair beside Enzo's bed. My feet carried me forward before I could stop them, and suddenly, I was standing at his door, hesitating.
I shouldn't be here.
He would hate this—me hovering over him like he was fragile, like I cared. But as I stepped closer, guilt settled deep in my chest. My eyes landed on the bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around his shoulder, and I winced, the memory of how he got that wound gnawing at me. Did I did this to him?
Carefully, I reached out, tracing my fingers lightly over the fabric of the bandage. He flinched in his sleep, a quiet groan slipping past his lips, and I yanked my hand away.
And then I just stared.
This face... It was the same one I had fallen in love with once upon a time. The same face that had haunted me for months in my dreams, my memories, my fears. But right now, as he lay there, his breathing steady, his expression soft, he didn't look like the Devil everyone whispered about. He just looked like him.
Lorenzo. My Enzo.
The boy who once made me feel safe. The boy who could burn the world and still find a way to make me laugh. The boy who had a heart big enough to love fiercely, yet had to cage it away from the world.
I stared at him, my throat tightening. How could someone be both—so ruthless and so heartbreakingly human?
Was he really the Devil everyone claimed him to be, or was that just a mask he wore? Because all I saw was a boy who had been hurt too many times, a boy who had learned the hard way that love wasn't always kind.
I wondered what his childhood had been like. If I had known him then—met him before the world turned him into this—would things have been different?
Isn't this what my heart wanted all along? To take care of him? To heal him?
A lone tear escaped down my cheek as the truth settled in my bones.
But I can't change the past. I can't turn back time. I can't rewrite destiny.
Just as another bolt of lightning tore through the sky, a low whimper reached my ears. I turned sharply.
Enzo.
His brows were furrowed, sweat glistening on his forehead as his fingers twisted into the bedsheet. His breaths came in short, pained gasps, his body trembling violently.
"No... no... don't go," he murmured, his voice raw and strained. "Mom... please... don't leave me... don't..."
And then, suddenly, his entire body jolted.
"Enzo?" My heart clenched as I rushed to his side, my hands finding his. He was burning up, heat radiating from his skin like a fevered fire.
"Shit," I whispered, my pulse quickening. I could barely hold him still. The storm outside raged on, the rain hammering against the window, and the room filled with his ragged, fevered gasps. Across the room, Rio was still fast asleep, oblivious to the storm both inside and outside these four walls.
I had no idea what to do.
My hands shook as I reached for him, gently brushing his damp hair back. His face—so tormented, so lost—made my chest tighten painfully. He was trapped in a nightmare, reliving something from his past. Something that haunted him even now.
Fuck, He's so cold.
"Enzo," I murmured, my fingers running through his hair, my voice as soft as the rain outside. "It's me... Ana. I'm right here."
His breathing hitched. His grip tightened around my wrist, urgent, desperate.
"Ana?" His voice was barely a whisper.
I exhaled in relief. "Yeah... it's me. I'm right here, Benny."
His fingers trembled as they clenched around mine, refusing to let go. "Please... don't leave me."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, pressing my other hand over his and holding on tighter. "I'm not going anywhere," I promised, my voice unsteady. "I'm right here."
Slowly, his breathing evened out. His grip on my hand loosened, but he never let go. The storm outside kept raging, but for the first time in a long while, the one inside me quieted. There were no nightmares.
No fear. No pain.
Just me and him.