Zara couldn't sit still.
Her heart kept pounding hard in her chest as she held the sleeping baby—Elena—trying not to panic at every distant gunshot she heard outside. Marco had left her with nothing but a kiss and a warning. She kept replaying his words in her head:
"Don't come out. Don't look out the window."
But how was she supposed to stay calm?
This wasn't her world.
She didn't even know who was after Marco… or why she was involved.
She paced back and forth, biting her nails, whispering to the baby, "Please be safe… please, Marco… don't scare me like this."
Minutes felt like hours.
Suddenly, the door handle turned.
Zara froze in place.
Her breath stopped.
Her legs felt like they disappeared.
The door pushed open—and Marco stumbled inside, blood on his shirt, blood on his hand, blood running down his side.
Zara's heart dropped.
"Marco?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
He shut the door behind him and leaned on it for support. His breathing was heavy, his face pale, but when he looked at her holding the baby, he tried to straighten up like nothing was wrong.
"I told you not to worry," he muttered.
Zara rushed to him. "Marco, you're bleeding!"
He looked confused.
Not at the blood—
At her tears.
"You're… crying?" he asked quietly, almost like he couldn't believe it.
She wiped her face fast, embarrassed. "You scared me! You can't just walk into bullets and act like you're invincible!"
Marco blinked once, stunned by the emotion in her voice.
"Nobody has ever cried because of me," he said in a low voice. "Not even my own mother."
Zara's stomach tightened painfully.
"Well, I'm not them," she whispered.
He stared at her… really stared… like he was seeing her differently.
Like she meant something.
Marco tried to step forward but hissed in pain. Zara quickly grabbed his arm.
"Sit down. Don't argue with me."
Even bleeding, he smirked faintly.
"Yes, ma'am."
She brought him to the bed. The baby shifted a little, but didn't wake.
Zara grabbed the first-aid kit with shaky hands.
"Take off your shirt."
Marco raised a brow. "If you wanted to see me naked, you should've said so earlier."
"Marco!" she snapped. "Stop joking before I hit you!"
His smirk softened.
"Sorry. I'm just trying to keep you calm."
She swallowed hard and started unbuttoning his shirt.
Her fingers trembled as she saw the deep cut on his waist.
"Oh God…"
Marco's eyes softened at her reaction.
"I've had worse."
"That doesn't help," she whispered.
As she cleaned his wound, he watched her the entire time.
The way her brows pulled together.
The way her lips trembled.
The way she kept sniffing back tears.
"You're shaking," he murmured.
"You left without telling me what was going on," she said, voice breaking. "I didn't know if you'd… come back."
Marco was quiet for a moment.
Then softly:
"I came back for you."
Zara's breath caught.
Her heart pounded.
"Don't say things you don't mean," she whispered.
"I don't say anything I don't mean," he answered simply.
Zara wrapped the bandage around him carefully.
"Why are you doing this? Why risk your life like that?"
"For you and Elena," he said.
Zara stiffened, confused.
"I… Marco, why do you keep protecting me? I don't understand."
He reached out and took her hand gently.
"I told you before," he said quietly. "I feel something I shouldn't feel."
Zara swallowed.
Her voice was a whisper.
"What… do you feel?"
Marco leaned closer, ignoring the pain.
His voice dropped to a deep, soft tone that made her whole body react.
"You."
Her heart skipped.
His thumb brushed against her lower lip.
"I think about you more than I should. I watch you smile at the maids and I get jealous. I see you avoiding me and I get angry. I hear you say my name and I feel—" He stopped, exhaling sharply. "I don't know what you've done to me."
Zara shook her head, overwhelmed.
"This is too much… I don't know what I feel."
He lifted her chin gently.
His eyes softened in a way she'd never seen from him before.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You don't have to understand it now. Just don't run from me."
"I'm not running," she whispered.
"You are," he said softly. "Every time I try to talk, you disappear. Every time I come close, you find an excuse."
She opened her mouth to argue… but she couldn't.
Marco leaned back slightly, his breathing steadier now.
"You cared today," he murmured. "You cried because I was hurt."
She lowered her gaze.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means everything to me," he whispered.
Before Zara could answer, someone knocked on the door—hard.
Marco's eyes instantly went cold.
He grabbed the gun from under his pillow without hesitation.
Zara's heart jolted.
"Marco…" she whispered fearfully.
He looked at her, blue eyes sharp and protective.
"Stay behind me."
The knock came again—louder this time.