Love and vengeance

The sharp smell of antiseptic and rubbed alcohol clawed at Isabel’s senses before the light ever did.

She woke slowly emerging from a dark suffocating abyss where the sound of roaring water and metallic crunching tore through her mind in an endless rhythmic loop. Her body felt impossibly heavy anchored down by a deep throbbing ache centered in her ribs and head. Every shallow breath she drew felt like swallowing crushed glass.

Her eyelids fluttered open Above her the ceiling was not the yellowed water stained plaster of her small apartment in the city nor was it the sterile drop tile ceiling of a public hospital. It was made of massive hand carved mahogany beams running across pristine ivory plaster illuminated by the warm amber glow of recessed wall sconces.

She tried to sit up but a sharp spike of agony flared through her chest forcing a ragged gasp from her throat.

Do not move, a calm deep voice ordered from the shadows near the window. You have two cracked ribs and a severe concussion. Any sudden movement will reopen the stitches on your scalp.

Isabel turned her head slowly her vision blurring before coming into sharp focus.

Standing near a set of heavy floor to ceiling silk curtains was a man. He was tall broad shouldered and dressed in a crisp black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing dark ink tracing up his skin. His dark hair was meticulously combed back highlighting a hard angular jawline covered in light stubble. But it was his eyes that caught her hueless, intense, and piercingly cold staring at her with an unreadable depth.

Where where am I? Isabel managed to rasp out her throat dry as sand. Is this a hospital?

It is a private medical wing the man replied, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the foot of her bed. He walked with the fluid silent grace of a predator. You had an accident. A severe one.

An accident Memory returned to her in fragmented violent flashes the blinding storm the slick mountain road the blinding halo of white headlights charging through the dark and then the crushing terrifying impact.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing a soft silk pajama set and a thick white bandage was wrapped securely around her ribcage beneath the fabric. An IV line was taped to the back of her left hand snaking up to a bag of clear fluid suspended on a metal pole.

You hit me, Isabel said her voice trembling as the realization settled in. She looked up her emerald eyes locking onto his.It was your car.

It was, the man admitted without a trace of hesitation or defensive pride. The storm caused my vehicle to lose traction on the descent You stepped out from the foliage directly into my path. My driver could not stop in time.

Isabel closed her eyes trying to piece together the shattered timeline of that night. I was running I was trying to find She stopped abruptly her hand flying to her throat as a wave of cold panic washed over her. My brother. Where is my brother?

The man’s expression did not alter but a subtle almost invisible tension entered his shoulders. He pulled a heavy leather armchair up to the side of the bed and sat down crossing one leg over the other.

You were alone on that road Isabel he said softly.

The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. How do you know my name? I didn't give you my identification.

Your wallet was in your handbag, he said smoothly telling a half truth with practiced ease. Isabel Rojas. Twenty two years old. A student at the University of Antioquia. It was not difficult to identify you.

Did you call the police? Did you contact my family? She pushed herself up slightly despite the pain her breath coming in fast panicked shallow bursts. My brother, Santiago he hasn't answered his phone in days. I was looking for him I need to call him.

Matteo sat in silence for a fraction of a second watching her chest heave against the tight bindings. The mention of Santiago’s name cut through him like a blade but his face remained a mask of stone.

Your phone was destroyed in the crash Matteo stated quietly. And as for the authorities no. I did not involve them.

Isabel frowned confusion overriding her pain. Why? Why wouldn't you take me to a public clinic? Why bring me here?

Because a public clinic in Medellín is a death trap for someone in your condition Matteo said leaning forward slightly resting his forearms on his knees. They lack basic surgical supplies the staff is overworked and you would have waited four hours on a gurney in a hallway while your chest cavity filled with fluid. I have the resources to provide you with top tier twenty four hour care. You are alive right now because my doctor spent three hours stabilizing you in this room.

Isabel stared at him trying to reconcile the terrifying cold authority he radiated with the fact that he had saved her life. Everything about him screamed danger the tailored luxury of his clothing the silent military like discipline of the room and the lingering sense that this house was far more than just a home.

Who are you? she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

My name is Matteo, he said simply. Matteo Restrepo.

The name meant nothing to her. She was a quiet university student who spent her days buried in books and her nights worrying about her brother’s mysterious absences. She didn't know the dark political hierarchy of the city’s underbelly nor did she know that the man sitting beside her was the most feared cartel lord in the department.

Thank you for saving me Don Matteo Isabel said quietly the heavy strain of exhaustion creeping back into her limbs. But I need to leave I have to find Santiago. He’s in danger, I know he is.

You are in no condition to walk let alone search the city for a missing person Matteo said, his voice dropping into an authoritative tone that demanded compliance. You will stay here until Dr. Vargas clears you You will be provided with everything you need food, medicine, rest.

I can't just stay in a stranger's house, Isabel protested trying to swing her legs over the side of the mattress.

The moment her feet hovered near the floor a dizzying wave of vertigo struck her. The room spun wildly and her strength vanished. She swayed dangerously falling forward.

Before she could hit the floor Matteo was there.

In a single fluid movement his arms wrapped securely around her waist and shoulders catching her effortlessly. He pulled her flush against his chest lifting her back onto the bed. For a brief suspended second Isabel was pressed close to him She smelled the scent of dark cedar expensive leather and a hint of faint lingering rain on his skin.

His eyes locked onto hers inches away. Up close she could see the subtle gold flecks surrounding his dark pupils and the intense possessive grip of his hand resting against her lower back.

You do not listen very well Isabel he murmured his voice low and vibrating against her skin.

I don't belong here she whispered, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs not just from pain but from the overwhelming, terrifying proximity of the man holding her.

You belong wherever I can keep you alive Matteo replied, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a gesture that was shockingly tender almost desperate before he pulled back and straightened his coat.

He stepped away from the bed walking toward the grand double doors of the bedroom. He paused with his hand on the heavy brass handle looking back over his shoulder at her.

Rest Isabel. The guards outside will bring you food and your medication. Do not attempt to leave the wing.

Guards? Isabel called out her voice rising in alarm. Why do you need guards?

Matteo didn't answer. He slipped out of the room and pulled the heavy mahogany doors shut behind him.

A second later Isabel heard a distinct, chilling sound echo from the other side of the wood.

Click.

The door was locked from the outside.

Isabel stared at the locked brass handle the warm light of the luxurious bedroom suddenly feeling less like a sanctuary and far more like a gilded cage.