When Leo came back home, the house was dark and quiet. The clock on the wall showed past midnight. His body ached, his arms burned where the wounds had been stitched, his shoulders were stiff, and exhaustion clung to his bones like a second skin.

He had multiple injuries on his arms, with fresh bandages wrapped around his forearms hidden beneath his dark shirt. His knuckles were bruised, raw, and split in places. His face was grim, his jaw tight, and his gray eyes cold and distant.

The hunt for the stalker had been brutal. They had found leads, but not the man himself. The trail had gone cold in the remote area where Bella’s footage had ended. Dead ends. Empty warehouses. False alarms.

He had come home hoping to see her face, to hear her voice, to feel her warmth, but she was nowhere to be seen.

He checked the living room. Empty.

The dining room. Dark.

The kitchen. Silent.

He climbed the stairs, his footsteps heavy and his heart heavier.

The study was empty. The desk was clean, the chair pushed in, and the laptop closed. No sign of her.

Their bedroom was dark. The bed was made, the pillows untouched, and the blankets smooth. No Bella.

He frowned. "Bella?"

His voice echoed in the empty room. No answer.

He walked to the bathroom door and pushed it open. The light was off, and the room was empty.

"Bella?"

Still no answer.

He turned to leave and stopped. Something caught his eye in the corner of the room near the closet. Something was huddled against the wall.

He walked toward it, his steps slow and his breath shallow.

Bella was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. She was wearing one of his old shirts, the soft gray one he never wore anymore. Her hair was loose and tangled, falling across her face. Her eyes were open, red-rimmed, and swollen. She had been crying.

She was hugging his coat, the black coat he had worn last week which smelled like him. She had pulled it from the closet and wrapped her arms around it, clutching it to her chest like a lifeline.

She looked dazed and lost, like she had drifted somewhere far away and couldn’t find her way back.

But then her eyes found his arms. Her gaze dropped to the bandages peeking out from beneath his sleeves, to the bruises on his knuckles, to the way he held his right arm slightly away from his body as if moving it hurt.

Her face changed. The dazed look vanished, the tears stopped, and her eyes widened, then narrowed, then filled with something else, fear, anger, and worry all tangled together.

"You’re hurt," she whispered.

Leo knelt in front of her. "It’s nothing."

"Don’t." Her voice was sharp. "Don’t say that."

She reached out with trembling fingers and touched his arm lightly, gently, just above the bandage.

He flinched. The moment her fingers brushed the edge of the bandage, his body tensed, a reflex that was unconscious and immediate. His jaw tightened, and his gray eyes flickered for just a second with something that might have been pain.

Bella pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. Her eyes filled with fresh tears, hot and unstoppable, spilling over before she could blink them away.

"Please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You didn’t even bandage it properly."

She stood up abruptly, her legs unsteady, and walked to the bathroom. Her hands were shaking as she opened the cabinet and pulled out the medical kit, a white box with a red cross filled with gauze, antiseptic, and tape. She had stocked it herself months ago when she realized how often Leo came home with wounds he tried to hide.

She carried it back to him and knelt on the floor.

Leo watched her without speaking.

His dressing had been done hastily, probably by one of his men in a car on the way back from wherever he had been. The bandages were too loose, the tape peeling at the edges, and the gauze was already stained with blood that had seeped through. He hadn’t gone to a doctor. He hadn’t stopped. He had come straight to her.

Bella’s hands trembled as she peeled away the old bandages. The wounds underneath were raw, some deep, some shallow, all angry and red. Her breath caught, and her heart ached. She cleaned each wound with antiseptic, her movements gentle but sure. The cotton swab turned pink, then red. Leo didn’t flinch again. He just watched her face.

"Take off your shirt," she said quietly.

He obeyed. The fabric pulled away from his skin, revealing bruises she hadn’t seen before, dark purple blooms across his ribs, his chest, and his shoulders. His back was worse, with long scratches, deep gashes, and skin that had been torn and hastily closed.

Bella’s eyes flashed with heartache. She had seen him injured before. She had seen him bloody and broken in a hospital bed fighting for his life. She was still not used to seeing him injured. She was worried that one day... No, no, Bella. You can’t think bad things like that.

She kissed his shoulder gently. Her lips brushed his skin just above a dark bruise and lingered there for a moment.

Leo’s expression softened. The hard lines of his face relaxed, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He felt something he hadn’t felt all day: peace.

She helped him wrap fresh bandages around his chest, his arms, and his hands. Her fingers moved carefully and deliberately, tying knots, smoothing tape, and making sure everything was secure.

When she finished, she sat back on her heels and looked at him.

His gray eyes were warm now, tired but warm.

"But what happened to you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Did anyone bully you?"

Bella shook her head quickly. "Nothing."

"Bella."

"Nothing." She smiled, small and soft, hiding everything she was feeling. "I just missed you."

He studied her face. His eyes narrowed slightly, searching for the lie. But she had learned to hide her pain, just like he had.

She looked at his injuries again, at the fresh bandages, the bruises, the exhaustion etched into his features. Her eyes flashed with coldness. She would deal with Krystal herself. She would make sure that girl never hurt anyone again. She would show Mira what kind of person she had trusted.

Thinking about that, she reached up and touched his face, her palm resting against his cheek. "Rest now," she said. "You’re home."

He turned his head and kissed her palm.