Part 18

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Stella POV

The doctor sat across from me, his brow furrowed in concentration as he gently examined my leg. I winced when he pressed near the bruised area, but I bit my lip to keep from making too much noise. Zane stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression a storm of worry and frustration.

"It's just a sprain," the doctor finally announced, wrapping my knee with a bandage. "You'll need to rest it for a few days, no strenuous activities. Keep it elevated as much as possible, and I'll prescribe something for the pain."

"I told you, you're not fine," Zane muttered under his breath, his sharp gaze flicking to me. "Why do you always have to be so reckless?"

I tilted my head, giving him an apologetic smile. "It wasn't reckless. It was just... an accident."

"An accident that could've been avoided," he shot back, his tone harsher than I expected. Then, almost immediately, his face softened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I just... I hate seeing you hurt."

The doctor stood, gathering his things and giving Zane a respectful nod. "She'll be fine as long as she follows my instructions. Call me if there's any swelling or unusual pain."

"I will," Zane replied curtly, watching as the doctor left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Zane turned back to me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and something else—concern. He crouched in front of me, resting his forearms on his knees, bringing us face to face.

"Why do you make me worry like this, Stella?" he asked, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. "Do you have any idea what it does to me, seeing you hurt?"

"I didn't mean to worry you," I said softly, leaning back into the plush cushions of the couch. "I'm fine, really. The doctor said so."

His jaw clenched, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Fine isn't good enough. You could've been seriously injured. Do you know what would've happened if that horse hadn't stopped in time?"

I looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? For him to open up, to care so deeply that he'd lose focus? And yet, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that I was crossing a line—manipulating emotions I had no right to touch.

"I'm sorry," I said again, meeting his gaze. "I'll be more careful."

"You'd better," he said, standing abruptly. He reached for the throw blanket at the end of the couch and draped it over me, his movements gentle despite the tension in his posture. "Rest. If you need anything, tell me."

I nodded, watching as he turned to leave. But just before he reached the door, he hesitated, his hand on the frame.

"Stella," he said without looking back, his voice softer now. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't want you to get hurt. Not by me, not by anyone."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the ache in my knee and the heavier weight in my chest.


Zane POV

I paced outside Stella's room, the tension coiled tight in my chest refusing to ease. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, the memory of her fall playing on a loop in my mind. For a man who had faced bullets, betrayal, and bloodshed, this... this was what unraveled me.

The sight of her sprawled on the ground, wincing in pain, had cut through me in a way I didn't know was possible. She could have been seriously hurt, and the thought alone made my stomach twist.

I paused mid-step, leaning against the wall and rubbing a hand over my face.

Why did I care this much? Why did I feel so damn helpless when it came to her?

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