Isabella sat beside Dominic, the dim light from a bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. She had positioned herself on the edge of the bed, a damp cloth in hand as she carefully wiped away the dirt and blood from his battered face. Dominic’s normally sharp features were marred by bruises, his skin a patchwork of purples and reds. A deep cut ran along his brow, and the area around his left eye was swollen, nearly shutting it closed. Each time she dabbed at an open wound with the ointment, he winced in his sleep, his body instinctively recoiling from the pain.
Her heart ached with guilt as she tended to him. This was all her fault— she couldn’t shake the thought. She never expected to care about Dominic Romano, a man who was once an enemy, someone who could easily turn on her in
