Page 63 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

Kiryan

I sat back on the sofa in the VIP room, knuckles pressed to my brow.

After the ER stopped the bleeding, Isabella had been moved up for observation. The doctor said the wound hadn't hit anything vital or bone, but they still needed more tests.

Feodor and the security team rotated in with updates. The last ambush had pointed at Matteo. Today a car had slammed into us. I didn't believe in coincidences.

And then Elena called.

Her name lit up on my screen and the morning's fight stormed back—leaked video, her denial, her tears begging me not to go, and the door I'd shut without looking back. It all collided in my head.

I wanted to hear her. I didn't want to face the disappointment I knew would be in her voice.

I answered, but I didn't speak right away.

"Is now a bad time?" she asked.

A sound came from the bed. Isabella used her uninjured hand to brace herself and slowly sit up. The second her feet hit the floor, pain pinched her brow. The edge of the gauze on her forehead already showed a bloom of red.

"Stop." My voice came out low and hard.

Elena paused on the line.

Isabella shook her head anyway. Barefoot, she walked toward me, each step slower than usual, until she stood right in front of me. I lifted my hand, motioning her back. She glanced at the phone—and instead of retreating, she climbed into my lap.

Her injured arm and her bandaged forehead sat between us like a shield. I couldn't just shove her off.

"Kiryan?" Elena said again.

Isabella's fingers slid down my collar. Before, that kind of closeness had been enough—I'd known what she wanted, and I'd given it. Now I acted like I didn't.

I caught her good wrist. She stared straight at me with those narrow eyes, bold and hungry, full of the lure and challenge I'd once known by heart. She knew exactly what she was doing. I wouldn't use my usual force with her stitches.

"I'm listening," I said into the phone.

Isabella pulled free and popped open the top button of my shirt.

"I thought about this morning," Elena said, her voice soft. "We both listened to other people instead of actually listening to each other. Maybe we should talk. Really talk."

The second button came undone. I grabbed Isabella's hand again. She tipped her head and ran her tongue lightly across my palm.

My stomach turned. I clamped a hand around her waist to lift her off me—and clipped her injured arm by accident.

"And also, I went to the hospital today. The doctor said..." Elena started.

Isabella's body jolted from the pain. A soft, breathy moan slipped out of her mouth.

The line went dead quiet.

I knew instantly Elena had heard it.

"Elena!"

The call ended. She hung up.

Something sharp drove through my chest. I shoved Isabella off and stood, already hitting redial. The phone rang once—then Isabella snatched it from my hand and ended the call.

"Give it back."