The next moment I opened my eyes, I was in a completely different room. It was unfamiliar, sterile, and smelled faintly of antiseptic—definitely not Levi’s bedroom. As I instinctively tried to sit up, a searing lance of pain shot through my shoulder, forcing a groan from my lips and sending me sprawling back against the unfamiliar pillows.

Did I get carried while I was asleep? The thought was disorienting. Levi had said we would move out first thing in the morning, not… while I was unconscious. What…? Where am I? The panic started to bubble up, the unfamiliar surroundings amplifying my vulnerability.

“Levi!” I called out, my voice still rough.

He appeared in the doorway almost immediately, his expression calm. “Good morning, Raphael. I hope your pain is a little better now.”

“Where the fuck are we?”

“Oh,” Levi replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “We moved out. The workers carried your personal belongings. You are free to decorate the place as you wish, but I advise you not to use your shoulder.” He gestured vaguely around the unfamiliar room.

“Who carried me then?” I demanded, the pieces starting to fit together in a way that made me uneasy. “Did you just… move me while I was unconscious?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his gaze steady. “I didn’t wish for you to see the aftermath of yesterday.”

“What aftermath?” I pressed, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

“Well,” he said, his voice even, “the shattered windows, the bullet casings… and your blood smeared all over the living room, through the stairs, and my bedroom.”

“That was… actually really nice of you.” The image he painted was gruesome, and the fact that he shielded me from it, despite his usual stoicism, was… unexpected. A small, genuine smile touched my lips. “Thank you, Levi.”

"Surely, Pulla," he said quietly, the usual sharp edge absent from his voice. "But, how is your shoulder feeling now?"

"It hurts like ass," I grumbled, shifting slightly and immediately regretting it as a throb of pain shot through my arm. "Oh, I didn't tell anyone at work about... anything!" Panic flickered in my chest.

"Pulla, please," Levi said, his voice firm but gentle. “The Saint of Ascaria’s house was raided by bullets. It is a matter of national importance; every single press outlet is basically buzzing right now. You do not need to explain anything, to anyone. The world knows.”

“Well,” I said, a wave of exhaustion washing over me, “that’s some exciting revelation to me.” The news felt distant and surreal compared to the throbbing agony in my shoulder. “Also… I am really tired and in grave pain. It hurts soooo much.” The last words were almost a whimper.

Levi strode towards the bed, leaning down close to my shoulder, his gaze intent. “Is it the suture pain, Pulla, or a different kind of pain?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, trying to pinpoint the exact sensation. “It’s just… a constant throbbing, and it feels tight.”

"That sounds consistent with suture pain, Pulla. The tightness is normal as the skin begins to heal. But, pain medication will help with the sensation.”

Wow, his concern, his care, even if it's clinical, was like a pain medication in itself this morning. A small, involuntary smile touched my lips. “Yeah. Let’s have breakfast and then I will have some medication.”

“Accept my apologies, Pulla, as I will not be able to accompany you for breakfast.”

“What, why?” A pang of disappointment, mixed with a fresh wave of unease, hit me.

“Well, Raphael,” Levi said, his gaze steady, “you got shot. Someone needs to deal with that.”

The past incident of me getting drugged at the event made Levi sincerely think dissolve the police alongside nobility. But, I got shot, the stakes were higher. What was he going to do?

“Uhm… Levi…” I began hesitantly. “Are you going to really… dissolve the police?”

A flicker of something akin to disdain crossed Levi’s features. “Please, Pulla, those squishy bags of meat and bones do not deserve my energy and time to dissolve them. But, I will crush somebody else, like the person who hired that sniper to attack you.”

“Are you sure that… they were trying to attack me?” A sliver of doubt lingered in my mind. The target could’ve been Levi too.

“I am,” Levi stated flatly, all trace of gentleness gone. “The shooting ended immediately after we retreated to my room. They weren’t trying to harm me; they had ample opportunity if that were their aim. Also, let me remind you, Pulla, there really is not that much distance between a shoulder and a head.”

A shiver traced its way down my spine as the memory resurfaced. “Yeah…” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “After the first shot… another bullet… passed right by my face, while I was on the floor.”

The shattered glass and the near miss... There was no doubt in my mind then. They were definitely trying to kill me.

“Pulla…” He cupped my face with his cold hand, his intense gaze softening slightly. “Try your best not to dwell on that. You are safe here. This house is in a very discreet location. While I won’t be here for the entire day, I will make absolutely certain someone trustworthy accompanies you. Is there anyone you wish to call?”

“No one really comes to mind,” I admitted. “Can’t you just… deal with it here? Like, or… can I come with you?”

The thought of being left alone in this unfamiliar place while Levi went off to handle whatever dangerous business awaited him was unsettling.

Levi’s hand remained gently cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking it lightly. “I do not wish to disturb your fragile state, my dear Pulla.” His voice was soft but firm, conveying a clear decision. “You need rest and quiet to heal. My… dealings today will likely be neither restful nor quiet.”

“Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave.”

Levi’s expression softened, a flicker of conflict in his usually controlled eyes. “Do you truly fear being alone, Pulla?”

"Yes," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper, my gaze fixed on Levi's. "After... after what happened last night, yes. The thought of being here alone... it's terrifying."

“I acknowledge that, but I still need to leave. I can bring Annie, or Julia. I know you don’t like Holden.”

While Annie was likely the safer, less intense choice, the thought of Julia’s fierce protectiveness was strangely comforting right now. Even if she was gruff about it, her concern felt genuine. “Then can you bring Julia here?”

“Of course, Pulla.” Levi’s touch remained gentle. “This is a safe house. We will remain here until this issue is resolved.” He stood up from the bedside, his movements decisive once again. “I will have Julia here shortly. Try to rest until she arrives.”

After that, Levi swiftly left the said safe house. This house wasn’t tucked away in the middle of a forest, as I might have expected. It was a luxurious penthouse, situated in the very heart of the capital. So, this is Levi’s idea of a safe house? The highest room in a skyscraper. To be honest, my initial idea when we first married, was that we would live in a house like this, not our secluded two-story house.

Well. He probably thought it was safe because it was seen by everyone. No potential assassin lurking in the bushes of our secluded backyard here.

What a fitting thought for Levi. A silent declaration: We are here. Try us.

Just as I started to wander through the unfamiliar, breathtaking space of the penthouse, a sharp knock echoed from the front door. It had to be Julia.

I made my way to the door, a dull throb reminding me of my recent injury. As I pulled it open, Julia stood there, her usual no-nonsense expression softened by a clear line of worry etched around her eyes. She scanned me quickly, her gaze lingering on the bandage peeking out from my shirt. "You alright, Raphael?"

"Julia," I breathed out, a smile spreading across my face. "Thank God you're here." A wave of relief washed over me at the sight of her familiar, if somewhat intimidating, presence. She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the penthouse with a brief, almost dismissive, glance before focusing back on me.

"That bastard sounded like he swallowed a swarm of angry bees on the phone. What the hell happened?"

“In short,” I said, gesturing vaguely towards my shoulder with my good arm, “I got shot.”

Julia’s eyes widened slightly, the dismissive air vanishing instantly, replaced by a sharp, focused concern. “Shit.” She stepped closer, her gaze now fixed on my injured shoulder. “Who? Why am I asking? It must be Cybil.”

“Cybil? Didn’t you tuck her away on an island? How could she hire a sniper?” I asked, surprised by her immediate assumption.

“Well, doggy,” Julia said, her tone grim, “she can’t directly, not from where she is. But because of your little blunder with the chopper, making her location known to every single noble in Ascaria, she possibly mobilized other interested parties too.”

“How can she have… No, of course.” I cut myself off, the realization dawning on me. Cybil’s reach was likely far more extensive than I could imagine, even from her secluded island. “Of course she is powerful. She is Levi's mother.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Yeah. That old hag,” Julia agreed, her lips twisting in distaste. “I have always wondered why Levi didn’t just… you know… finish it with her.”

“Yeah, I am curious about that too right now,” I admitted, a thoughtful frown creasing my brow. “It’s not like he has any sentimentality towards her. After everything she put him through…”

"Knowing Levi," Julia said, her brow furrowed in thought, "he probably figured keeping her locked up tight was a more controlled situation. Killing someone like her can stir up a whole hornet's nest of other loyalists or people looking for revenge. This way, she's contained, even if she can still reach out in the shadows. Plus," she added, a hint of a grim smile touching her lips, "knowing Levi, he might have other possible agendas. It is not that letting her live, it is keeping her alive.”

“I think I don’t really want to hear about Levi’s potential dark agendas right now, you know… getting shot and all.” The reality of my injury, coupled with the unsettling implications of Julia’s words, was making me feel increasingly drained.

A scoff left Julia’s lips, though it lacked its usual bite. “For real, you’re playing the martyr card already? Fine, fine. But don’t think I came empty-handed. I actually brought you something from my bakery.”

“Oh, thanks. So you really bought Salted Sugar.” A smile finally returned to my lips.

“Yeah, of course. I even brought our biggest bags to fuck with Levi. C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”

With Julia’s familiar presence and the promise of her irresistible Salted Sugar cookies, a small sense of normalcy began to settle in the luxurious, yet still unsettling, penthouse. The afternoon would likely be spent with Julia’s gruff but comforting company, our bitching and moaning about Levi and him being a gigantic asshole, the sweet and salty treats a welcome distraction from the lingering fear and the weight of Levi’s absence.

As we were talking, a curiosity about his "national importance" comment began to gnaw at me. With a groan that was only partly feigned due to my shoulder, I reached for the remote and turned on the enormous plasma TV that dominated one wall of the living room.

The moment the TV screen illuminated, it was clear Levi hadn't been exaggerating. Every single news channel seemed to be leading with the same story: the attack on the Saint of Ascaria's residence.

Flashes of our house filled the screen, now marred by police tape, close-ups of shattered windows glinting in the daylight, and even blurry images, likely taken by onlookers.

And then, there were the pictures of me. Some were older, from movie premieres, showing me smiling and carefree. Others were more recent, paparazzi shots of Levi and me leaving restaurants, my face often partially obscured. But they were undeniably me.

Headlines screamed across the bottom of the screen: "Attack on Saint of Ascaria's Home," "Raphael Blake Injured in Shooting," "Who Targeted the Saint and His Husband?" Reporters stood outside our former residence, microphones emblazoned with various network logos, their voices somber as they speculated about the motives behind the attack and the extent of my injuries.

"God," Julia breathed out beside me, her usual bravado momentarily gone. "They're really milking this, aren't they?"

The sheer scale of the coverage was surreal. The words "national importance" echoed in my mind, heavy with a weight I hadn't fully grasped until this moment.

“I’m gonna say something dumb, prepare yourself,” I said, my gaze still fixed on the flashing images on the screen. “I became an actor because I was a big attention whore. If this had happened a while ago, like, my pictures running around every channel imaginable… I’d probably feel intense joy or something. But, now. I just feel indifferent, or shitty. I don’t know.”

"Oh, boo-hoo, the attention whore isn't enjoying the spotlight when it involves getting shot? Shocking," Julia said, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Maybe try getting a better publicist next time, one that doesn't involve actual bullets."

“I know you’re trying to be a bitch, but I can sense your caring. I appreciate it.”

“Sure, doggy,” Julia said, the wry smile widening. “From one Blake spouse, though now ex, to another. Though, I never did get shot.”

“Yeah, well,” I retorted, reaching for another cookie, “you aren’t a commoner. Probably harder to take a clean shot at you amidst all the tiaras and security details.” I popped the cookie in my mouth. "So, any of this 'national importance' news actually saying anything useful, or is it just endless speculation and blurry photos?" I gestured towards the still-blaring TV screen with my good hand.

“It depends on what you consider useful,” Julia said, her gaze fixed on a news anchor pontificating dramatically. “Right now, it’s mostly just speculation, like a bunch of gossiping old ladies with a national platform. But mark my words, Cybil and Levi will be playing their own games with the narrative. We’ll see over the next few days which side manages to spin this in their favor. Your ‘poor injured artist’ angle versus… whatever twisted reality Cybil tries to sell.”

“Who do you think will win?” I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

Julia sighed, running a hand through her short hair. “Considering this was a planned attack, Cybil and her ‘friends’ must already have some kind of story brewing, some way to deflect blame or even paint you and Levi in a bad light. And Levi… well, he’s probably busy with the actual messy work of figuring out who pulled the trigger and why. So, honestly? Right now, I couldn’t tell you.” Her honesty, while not comforting, felt genuine.

"So we're just... waiting then?" I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I glanced at the TV screen, the talking heads now discussing potential security threats to the Saint of Ascaria. "Waiting to see what kind of lies they decide to peddle?"

Julia sighed, but her gaze was firm. "We're not exactly helpless, Raphael. Levi has his own ways of dealing with things, trust me. And right now, my job is to make sure you're safe and sound. Let's not get too caught up in the he-said-she-said of the news just yet. Focus on getting better."

The day started to blend into the evening, and Julia, after ensuring I had everything I needed, informed me that Levi was on his way to the penthouse. True to her word, and with a characteristic roll of her eyes about having to be civil, since she didn’t like Levi, she made her exit.

The city lights painted long shadows across the polished floors as Levi entered, and I immediately noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He always had his pale look, but today it was even more evident. “Levi,” I said, my voice a little rough. “You look like you’re the one who got shot.”

His gaze softened slightly as he looked at me, a hint of a weary smile touching his lips. “Pulla,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “if I had been the one shot, I assure you, everything would be considerably simpler.”

Was this concern? Sympathy? Or was it something colder, a calculation of how much easier it would be for him to unleash hell if he were the one who had bled? I didn’t want to think at that moment.

“Uhm… Well, you look like you had a rough day, wanna talk about it?”

Levi’s gaze was intense, even through the fatigue. “There is much to discuss, Pulla. But first,” he stepped closer, his hand gently reaching for my uninjured arm, his touch surprisingly tender, “how are you feeling?”

“I feel better, thanks to the medication and Julia,” I replied, leaning slightly into his touch. “But, I am curious about you too.”

“Are you absolutely certain, Pulla?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, offering a small, slightly strained smile. “But spare me the details of how you scared everyone shitless.”

Levi’s gaze softened infinitesimally, a flicker of something akin to amusement in his eyes. “My dear Pulla. If your concern lies with the security of our… previous residence, please do not trouble yourself with the specifics of the countermeasures. That house belonged solely to me, not the Blake estate. Therefore, the fact that our location was compromised suggests a deliberate leak. It is the most likely avenue through which our unwelcome guest was able to find us.”

He paused, his expression hardening slightly. “My first priority has been identifying the source of that leak. I have… several promising avenues of inquiry.”

“If your concern lies with the publicity of this unfortunate event,” he continued, his gaze flicking towards the silent television screen, “then I’m afraid you are likely to bear the brunt of that particular inconvenience, given your public persona. It will undoubtedly generate a tiresome amount of speculation and scrutiny.”

Finally, he stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And lastly, my dear Pulla. There are… certain aspects of my world, shall we say, that are best left undisturbed by your beautiful mind. My alliances, our less conventional agreements, the intricacies of the web we navigate, these are burdens I carry. Trust that everything I do is ultimately for our protection.”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head, the lingering effects of the medication making me feel a little reckless. “No more of that ‘secret lobbies’ crap, Levi. I got shot, damn it.”

Levi’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “That is precisely why I am not discussing the finer details of my day, Pulla. The less you know of the necessary unpleasantness, the better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have been sleep-deprived and spent my entire day dealing with incompetent bugs. I need something sweet to drink.” He turned towards the bar, the conversation seemingly closed.

“No,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly. “Just tell me, Levi.”

As I spoke, Levi’s gaze, shifted to the large bag of ‘Salted Sugar’ cookies sitting on the nearby table. A frustrated groan escaped his lips. “Julia is doing this on purpose, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, a small, defiant smile playing on my lips. “She explicitly said to ‘fuck with you.’”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping him. "That woman," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

A wave of unexpected guilt washed over me, momentarily eclipsing my defiance. Seeing Levi like this—the dark circles against his pale skin, the uncharacteristic disarray of his hair—it was a reminder that me being targeted had consequences far beyond my own pain and fear. He looked genuinely exhausted, a state I'd rarely witnessed.

The fight for information, the desire to push back against his usual secrecy, suddenly felt less urgent.

A soft sigh escaped my lips, the earlier bravado melting away. "Levi," I said, my voice gentler now, the teasing tone gone. "You look… awful. Worse than I feel, honestly." I hesitated for a moment, the question forming in my mind. "Did you… did you not sleep at all?"

“No,” Levi replied, his voice flat, the earlier sharpness replaced by a bone-deep weariness. “Since I had to travel all over the capital, schedule meetings with both the press, the police, the security, and some of my… allies, let alone manage my own company. Sleep was a luxury I could not afford.”

“Okay,” I said softly, the guilt intensifying. “I’m feeling… clearer now. The medication probably messes with my head a bit. But why don’t you just go and get some sleep now? I’ll stay awake. I can wake you up if your phone rings or anything happens.”

Levi sighed, a deeper, more weary sound this time. “I cannot truly rest here, Pulla," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "My study is at the other residence. There are matters that require my immediate attention, even if I am to take a brief respite. Files, secure lines—things that cannot be easily replicated here." He looked around the penthouse with a hint of distaste.

“Okay…”

He is going to die from exhaustion. What can I do to make him sleep? Do I have any bargaining chip? Time for a high stakes gamble.

“If you do not stay and sleep here, I will rip my sutures off.”

Levi's reaction was immediate and intense. The weariness seemed to momentarily vanish, replaced by a flash of cold fury. His jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles working.

"Do not be foolish, Pulla," he said, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with a barely suppressed snarl. He took a swift step towards me. "Do you have any comprehension of the potential consequences of such a reckless act? Your well-being is paramount. Do not use your injury as some… manipulative tool."

He stopped mere inches away, his gaze boring into mine. "That is not a game to be played, Raphael. Ever."

"Why, Levi? Because it's you who gets to strategize and manipulate? You use everything as a tool, including me, all the damn time. My career, my safety, it all gets factored into your grand schemes. So, here's my counter-strategy: either you lie down and get some sleep now, or I start testing the limits of these sutures." I deliberately tensed my injured shoulder, a sharp stab of pain shooting through me, but I didn't flinch. "See? Two can play at this game."

Levi's eyes narrowed further, his gaze flicking down to my bandaged shoulder and then back to my face, a complex mix of anger and something else—perhaps a flicker of reluctant understanding—in their depths. He remained silent for a tense moment. Then finally, a harsh sigh escaped him.

"This is ill-advised, Raphael," he said, his voice still tight but losing some of its immediate fury. "But your point is taken." He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Fine. I will endeavor to rest. But do not think for a moment that I appreciate these… tactics."

As much as I was happy to see Levi going to bed, I knew, for the life of me, he held grudges and he would make sure I remember this.