Alessandro Ricci was bleeding. The bullet had grazed his side, and while it wasn't a fatal wound, the pain was sharp, burning through him as he staggered into the dark alleyway. He wasn't a man who let his guard down, but tonight, someone had gotten close enough to take a shot. His enemies had finally dared to strike, and he hadn't seen it coming.
He pressed his hand against his wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood seep through his fingers. The city lights flickered in the distance, but he was too far gone to care. His mind was clouded, his strength waning. He needed to get out of sight, needed to disappear before they found him again.
And then, she appeared.
Elena Carter wasn't the kind of woman who got involved in dangerous situations. She lived a quiet life, working at a small café during the day and taking night classes. She had dreams—dreams of getting away from the mundane routine of her life, of escaping the monotony that had settled in her bones. But the last thing she had expected was to stumble upon a wounded man in the middle of the night.
She had been walking home, her bag slung over her shoulder, when she noticed the figure slumped against the brick wall of an alleyway. At first, she thought it was just another drunkard, but as she took a closer look, her breath caught in her throat. The man was bleeding. His suit, though expensive and tailored, was torn and stained with blood. His face, partially shadowed, waDebntorted in pain.
Instinct took over before logic could stop her. She rushed to his side, kneeling down as her heart pounded in her chest. "Hey, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alessandro's dark eyes snapped open, locking onto hers. Even through the pain, there was something dangerous about him, something that sent a shiver down her spine. His gaze was intense, filled with something raw and untamed. He was no ordinary man.
"No hospital," he rasped, his voice thick with pain.
Elena frowned. "You're hurt. You need a doctor."
"No hospital," he repeated, firmer this time. His hand reached out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. "Just... bandage me up."
Elena hesitated. This man screamed trouble, but she couldn't just leave him to bleed out in the street. With a nod, she tore a strip from her scarf and pressed it against his wound, her fingers brushing against his bare skin. Heat surged between them, an undeniable spark that made her breath hitch.
"Who did this to you?" she asked, trying to keep her hands steady as she applied pressure to the wound.
Alessandro smirked, though it was laced with pain. "You ask too many questions, bella."
Her cheeks flushed at the pet name, but she ignored it. "You could die."
"I've had worse." His voice was gruff, but there was a teasing edge to it, as if he wasn't afraid of death. As if he had danced with it too many times to count.
Elena shook her head, frustrated. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He studied her, his dark eyes scanning every inch of her face. "But you saved me."
She swallowed hard, unsure why his words sent a thrill down her spine. "Anyone would have."
"No," he murmured. "Not anyone."
Silence stretched between them. The city noises faded into the background, and for a moment, it was just the two of them. A wounded man and the woman who had dared to help him.
Alessandro knew, in that moment, that she belonged to him.
Elena didn't know it yet, but her fate had just been sealed.