The elevator door swung open, and Francisco sprinted out, brandishing his gun. His urgency was palpable as he halted in front of the door to Hazel's apartment. Without a moment's hesitation, he aimed at the knob and fired, the gunshot echoing through the corridor. With a forceful kick, he flung the door wide open.
Amid the chaos, Hazel's distressed voice reached Francisco's ears.
She was pleading, "Leave me."
Driven by the need to protect her, Francisco charged toward her bedroom. With determination in his eyes, he flung open the door, pointing his gun at the masked intruder. Hazel was beneath that man. However, in an unexpected turn of events, Hazel pushed that man aside and rushed towards him.
"Mr. Francisco!"
Caught off guard by Hazel's sudden intervention, Francisco's instincts momentarily wavered. He redirected his gun away from the intruder, hesitating in his pursuit. This momentary lapse marked a crucial mistake in Francisco's typically composed and calculated approach.
In the blink of an eye, as Hazel sought comfort in Francisco's arms, the masked intruder seized the opportunity to attack. With a knife in hand, he lunged toward Francisco. In an attempt to shield Hazel, Francisco extended his arm to intercept the assailant, but the knife left a sharp scratch on his abdomen.
A sudden whimper of pain escaped Francisco's lips as he winced, his brows furrowing. Despite the injury, the masked man persisted in his attack, attempting another stab. However, this time, Francisco managed to grab his hand, the white shirt now stained with red.
In the struggle that ensued, Hazel, panic-stricken, pleaded, "Mr. Francisco!"
The intensity of the situation heightened as blood became visible.
Ignoring Hazel's concern, Francisco, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, slammed the intruder against the wall, delivering a powerful punch to his face. Yet, the masked man displayed formidable skills, counteracting with a swift evasion.
He countered, pushing Francisco back and landing a kick right where he had been stabbed.
Staggering, Francisco clutched the wound, blood seeping through his fingers. Determination burned in his eyes as he focused on pursuing the fleeing intruder. Yet, Hazel, panic evident in her voice, called out to him.
"You're bleeding. Let me see."
She took a step closer, grabbing Francisco's hand as she implored him to let the intruder go.
"Let him go, Mr. Francisco. I will call the police."
Francisco, still gasping from the encounter, looked at the door. He swiftly retrieved his phone and issued a directive to his guard, his voice steely and determined.
"If you guys see anyone around the apartment abnormally, just shoot him."
Hazel, her concern deepening, placed a reassuring touch on Francisco's shoulder and gently insisted, "Mr. Francisco, please sit here. I need to call an ambulance."
As she reached for the phone, Francisco abruptly pulled her toward him. His eyes bore into hers with intensity as he questioned her well-being.
"Are you okay? Did he do something?"
Hazel, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety, nodded nervously.
"No, I'm okay now. You came at the right moment."
Concern etched on his face, Francisco considered the situation. Hazel, recognizing the severity of his injury, pleaded, "But, Mr. Francisco, we can talk about it later. First, you need treatment."
Francisco halted her with a raised hand and said, "No need. I'm okay. It's just a small scratch, I guess."
"Mr. Francisco, can I see?" Hazel asked, concern etched on her face.
While gasping, Francisco nodded, giving her permission to inspect the wound. Hazel slowly lifted his shirt, revealing the injury. Her eyes widened as she assessed the severity.
"No, I think we need to go to the hospital," Hazel suggested, looking at him with worry. However, Francisco seemed unfazed by the wound, showing no expression of concern.
Looking at her, Francisco inquired, "Can you treat it?"
"What?"
Hazel questioned, surprised by his suggestion.
"Do you have hydrogen peroxide?"
Francisco asked as he leaned against the sofa, seeking some relief.
Hazel nodded, her mind racing as she rushed toward the bedroom to fetch the necessary supplies.
The quietude of Hazel's home was disrupted by the brisk footsteps of her return. The clinking of a bottle and the rustle of a medical kit signaled her intent as she swiftly made her way to Francisco. He sat with a calm exterior, but a flicker of pain danced in his eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Kneeling before him, Hazel's hands moved with purpose as she carefully poured hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton pad. Francisco's calm gaze met hers, and he surrendered to her care, closing his eyes to shield them from the discomfort.
Hazel worked swiftly, her hands steady as she cleaned and dressed the wound. The room held a palpable stillness, broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing.
Once the bleeding was under control, Hazel wrapped the wound with a bandage, applying just the right amount of pressure. The sterile scent of medical supplies lingered in the air as she completed her impromptu first aid.
Hazel looked up from her task to find Francisco's unwavering gaze fixed upon her.
As Hazel leaned back, her hands resting on Francisco's thighs, a sudden touch of coldness brushed against her cheek. Startled, she looked up to find Francisco's palm against her face. His touch was unexpected.
Francisco's fingers continued to caress Hazel's earlobe as they maintained eye contact.
"How did he come here?"
Their eyes locked on each other.
Without breaking eye contact, Hazel replied, "Through my bedroom's window. I was about to lock the glass, but suddenly he attacked me."
Francisco continued to gaze at her, his touch lingering on her cheek.
Francisco's gaze intensified, his eyes searching hers for more details. Without breaking eye contact, Hazel added, "I think I need to call the police."
Francisco's intense gaze bore into Hazel's eyes as his thumb traced her trembling lips. Before Hazel could say anything, Francisco interrupted her, stating, "I will find him before the police."
Hazel's lips quivered, but Francisco didn't flinch. Instead, his thumb ran over her lips, and Hazel's brows furrowed in confusion and slight discomfort.
"Don't worry, I will take him in front of you," Francisco assured, his actions taking a sudden turn.
Without warning, he inserted his thumb into Hazel's mouth. She sat frozen, unable to comprehend the unexpected intimacy. Francisco seemed to be playing with her like a puppet, and Hazel felt a sense of vulnerability.
"Did he touch you anywhere?" Francisco questioned as he continued to hold Hazel's hair firmly.
Hazel, still in a daze, nodded in the negative. Francisco slowly pulled his thumb from her mouth and tightened his grip on her hair. Hazel closed her eyes, a mix of confusion and hesitation in her voice as she pleaded, "Mr. Francisco, please, what are you doing?"
Francisco, shaken by the sudden surge of desire and realization of his loss of control, pulled away from Hazel. He ran his hand over his forehead, trying to regain composure and clear his mind. The intensity of his emotions caught him off guard.
I want to f**k you hard, Hazel.
The desire that surged within him was overpowering, and he knew he needed to leave before he acted on it.
Jumping to his feet, he instructed, "Lock the door, and don't worry. My men will be around your apartment. No one will dare come to you."
He responded, "The police might take time, and I can't risk your safety. I have resources that can work faster. Just lock the door, and my men will keep a watch. No one will dare come near you."
His abrupt movement startled Hazel. She questioned him, "But Mr. Francisco, it's police work. What are you trying to say?"
"Just remember one thing, I do the same thing the way the police do but in a different way."
Francisco's cryptic statement lingered in the air as he left without another glance at Hazel.
The weight of his words hung over Hazel, adding to the tension that had already enveloped her.
As he disappeared from view, Hazel sank onto the sofa, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She pressed her lips together, as if trying to contain the storm within her.
Are you okay?
We were about to exhibit.
The fear of being discovered loomed large in Hazel's mind.
Please don't try to do it, love.
Hazel's internal plea reflected the desperation to maintain the delicate balance they had crafted.
Hazel pressed her temples, grappling with the intricate web of her feelings.
**
In the confined space of his car, Rafael grappled with the pain searing through his cut lip, a reminder of the altercation with Francisco. He pulled down his mask, revealing the evidence of their violent encounter.
As he looked at himself in the rearview mirror, the reflection of his battered face fueled the fire within. His fingers brushed over the cut on his lips, feeling the warmth of fresh blood.
He took a deep breath, attempting to quell the surge of emotions coursing through him. The thought of Francisco, the man who had thwarted his plans, triggered a burning hatred in Rafael's chest.
"That bastard!"
"I think I pushed you in hell. It's all my fault."
"I need to talk with the sheriff as soon as possible."
"I can't see you in his arms."
Rafael's internal resolve solidified.