The afternoon sun had begun to dip behind the city skyline, painting the streets in bruised shades of orange and gray. Izana exited the pharmacy with his bag of medication in one hand, each step deliberate, measured, though slower than usual. The wound in his shoulder throbbed violently now, a dark heat radiating from deep beneath his skin. He ignored it at first, clenching his teeth, refusing to give it thought—but when he lifted his arm to grab the steering wheel, the pain flared like lightning, sharp and unrelenting.
He hissed under his breath. Driving was impossible.
The world tilted slightly as he considered his options. Elias would panic if he called. He'd make a scene, call the medics, summon guards—Izana didn't want that. There was only one person he trusted not to report him. Only one person he could call and not fear the consequences of their concern.
Leah.
He scrolled through his contacts slowly, each thumb movement deliberate, the weight of his weakness pressing down on him. He paused at her name. His fingers hovered for a moment, then pressed the call button.
The phone rang once, twice. He barely had the strength to hold it to his ear.
"Hello?" Leah's voice sounded bright, surprised. "Izana? Is everything okay?"
His jaw tightened. His words came weak, ragged. "…I… can't drive. Come… to the pharmacy."
Leah's tone shifted instantly, worry threading through it. "Izana? Are you… hurt? What happened?"
He shook his head slightly, forcing a calm he didn't feel. "It's… just the curse… side effects. I… can't drive."
There was a pause. Leah's silence stretched long enough for him to hear the unspoken questions, the concern rising in her voice.
"I'll be right there," she said finally, decisive.
He exhaled, sagging slightly against the car door. "Good," he murmured, and hung up.
The seconds passed slowly. Every heartbeat felt heavy, dragging through the heat of his blood loss. Lightheadedness pressed at the edges of his vision. He fought to keep his eyes open, but the world kept tilting, threatening to pull him under.
A sharp call cut through the haze.
"Izana!"
His eyes snapped open at the sound, vision adjusting slowly to the figure standing by the open car door. Leah. She was there, and the sight of her steadied him just enough to fight the blackness tugging at the corners of his mind.
He tried to lift his head, but weakness weighed him down like a stone. His hands slipped against the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, and he sagged back against the headrest.
Leah's eyes widened. Something about him—his posture, the pallor of his skin—made her chest tighten. She stepped closer, careful, cautious, but hesitant to cross the boundary she knew he would enforce. "Do you… want to go home?" she asked softly, eyes scanning his form.
"No," he answered immediately, without hesitation.
Her brows furrowed. "Not home?"
He shook his head slightly, voice low and strained. "Safe… house."
Leah stiffened. Safe house. Her instincts flared. Something was wrong. But she didn't press, didn't question him. She simply asked, "Can you show me the way?"
A faint nod.
She moved closer, glancing at the driver's seat where he still sat. "You need to move to the passenger side so I can drive," she said carefully.
He nodded again, understanding, and attempted to lift himself from the seat. His movement was slow, deliberate, but his weakness betrayed him. He faltered, muscles trembling, shoulder aching, and she could see the strain writhe across his face.
Leah's hands twitched. She wanted to help—but she knew the rules, the boundaries he had set. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, when a quiet, hesitant voice broke the tension.
"…Help me."
Leah froze, her eyes widening.
That tone—quiet, almost shy—was so different from the commanding, controlled voice he always used. It held something rare: trust. Vulnerability. A permission she had never been given before.
Her voice softened immediately. "I… okay. I'll help. But I'll be gentle."
He gave a small nod, weak but intentional. "…Be gentle," he confirmed, voice barely above a whisper.
Leah swallowed, heart hammering in her chest. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders hesitantly, careful not to apply too much pressure. He flinched at the touch, a brief, sharp reflex, but she felt him still, deciding not to pull away, trusting her enough to let her guide him.
Step by careful step, she helped him out of the driver's seat, supporting his weight as much as he would allow.
And then her hand met something wet.
Her eyes widened. She pulled her hand back slowly. The warm liquid pooled slightly on her palm. Blood.
Her breath caught.
She glanced at his shoulder, seeing the dark, spreading stain across his coat, seeping through the fabric. Her stomach twisted.
"I… Izana," she whispered, unsure whether to panic or to stay calm.
He gave a faint, strained exhale, eyes barely meeting hers beneath the blindfold. "I… needed you," he admitted quietly. "…I couldn't do it alone."
Leah's chest tightened. A rush of adrenaline and concern filled her. "You… you've been shot?" she asked softly, careful.
A pause. His jaw tightened. "…It's nothing. Just… bleeding. I'll be fine."
"Nothing?" Her voice rose slightly, disbelief threading through it. "Izana, you're losing blood. You can't stay like this!"
He didn't answer immediately. His grip on her arm was light, but enough to stabilize himself as she guided him into the passenger seat. The curse stirred beneath his skin again, low and insistent, reacting to her touch, her care, the intimacy of the act he had reluctantly allowed.
He flinched again, a sharp pulse through his chest, but stayed still.
Leah's heart raced. "I'm going to get us home—or the safe house," she said firmly, determination threading through her fear. "Just… stay with me. I won't let go."
He didn't speak. He simply exhaled, muscles tensing as the curse murmured warnings he could barely ignore.
For the first time in a long time, Izana allowed someone—her—to see him weak. To help him. To touch him.
And somewhere deep beneath the anger, the pride, and the curse, a small, fragile thread of trust began to weave itself between them.