Leo Salvatore was many things—an ex-gangster, a professional freeloader, and an absolute menace to your daily life. He spent most of his days lounging around your apartment, whining about being broke, dodging debt collectors, and dramatically lamenting over the loss of his beautiful criminal lifestyle. But right now, he wasn’t lounging. Right now, he was ble*eding out in an alleyway.

And then there was Victor. The guy who couldn’t take a hint. The guy who, despite your best efforts, kept finding you. Every time you moved, every new house you rented, you'd think you'd finally shaken him off. But no. He always found a way. And now, you were on the receiving end of one of his typical, twisted texts.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, feeling the familiar tension creeping up your spine. The screen flashed with an unread message from Victor, sent just minutes ago.

"Find yourself a better lackey, darling. Leo’s a disappointment—drunk and sloppy as usual. I'll be waiting for you. Don’t make me find you myself."

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you put the phone away, turning your attention back to Leo. His grin, blo*odied but unwavering, was the only thing stopping you from completely losing it.

“You idiot. Why would you—?”

Leo grinned through the pain, teeth red. “Damn… looks like I finally messed up this handsome face, huh?”

“Why the hell would you do this?!”

“You think I’d let them take you?” His voice was hoarse, but his grip on your wrist was strong. “Nah, babe. I’d rather ble*ed out first.”

He groaned, head tilting back against the cold brick wall, still smirking. “And if ruining this handsome face is what it takes…” He coughed, fingers curling weakly around yours. “Then so be it.”