Scarred, Shot, Still Standing

Tessa’s POV

After I was shot by Silas Vale’s rival gang, I dragged myself to his casino, desperate and half‑bleeding out, hoping he’d help me.

Instead, I walked straight into Silas as he was hurrying out with his childhood sweetheart, Amy Calloway, in his arms.

He barely looked at me, “Get this bloody mess out of my casino. Don’t let my Amy see her—she’s scared of blood.”

So I was dumped in the back alley by his men like trash.

The bullet, the blood loss—everything was pulling me under. “Help… me…” I whispered, knowing no one would hear me.

Lucky for me, someone did show up. He got me to the hospital and saved my life.

I spent nearly a week at hospital. Silas didn’t once call me.

The day I was discharged, I returned to the home Silas and I shared.

The second I opened the door, I spotted a coat and jacket tossed carelessly over the sofa. A pair of pants lay crumpled on the floor beside a dress.

“Silas, I’m hungry,” Amy said as she padded out barefoot. She was wearing one of Silas’s shirts.

“Tessa! You’re back?” When Amy spotted me, she didn’t look surprised at all. She tugged her shirt collar wider, deliberately revealing fresh love bites.

A moment later, Silas stepped out behind her. “Amy was having those PTSD nightmares again,” he said, dodging my eyes, “So I brought her back to our house.”

Right. ‘Nightmares’ The kind where Amy cried into Silas’s chest and he decided the best cure was letting her sleep in our bed.

The old me would’ve asked Silas for explanations—if he was just taking care of her, then how did those love bites happen? I would’ve tried to make him see that this wasn’t appropriate at all.

But after everything that happened these past few days? All I wanted was to leave—this house, this relationship, this man—before he could take anything else from me.

“Alright,” I said quietly, then turned and walked to the guest bedroom.

Once I closed the door behind me, I dialed my brother Tom.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “I’ve been thinking—after I wrap things up in New York, maybe I’ll come join you in Italy.”

Tom and his friend ran a small international business and expanded to Italy recently. He’d once asked if I wanted to come with him.

I’d laughed at the time. “Silas is in New York. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tom didn’t push. He just squeezed my hand and said, Whenever you change your mind, call me.

Maybe Tom, smarter than me in a thousand quiet ways, had already known Silas and I were never going to work.

And me? I finally got hurt enough to see it for myself.

I’d barely hung up when the door slammed open. Silas stood there, irritation written all over him, “Where were you the last couple of days? Harry said you failed the negotiation with the Renis.”

The Renis—right.

A couple of days ago, Silas sent me to what he called a “simple business meeting,” which turned out to be a trap. His rival gang, The Renis, didn’t care about doing a business. They held me in their base, demanded Silas’s secrets, beat me when I refused, and finally shot me when they ran out of patience.

Then they dumped me outside like I was a message. A warning to Silas.

And I, bleeding and barely standing, walked all the way to Silas’s casino—only to be kicked aside by him and thrown into the alley like trash.

The memory twisted something inside me. I let out a small, bitter smile.

“What are you smiling at?” Silas scowled. “Happy about losing us a deal? When did you become so incompetent, Tessa? I thought you were smarter than this.”

The bullet wound in my side pulsed hot, sweat beading at my hairline.

“The deal…” I started, but the pain made my voice hitch.

Before I could finish, Amy’s head popped into the doorway.

“What are you two whispering about?” she asked sweetly. “Anything I’m not supposed to know?”

“Of course not.” Silas’s whole face softened, “Tessa was just reporting a job she was supposed to handle—but failed.”

Amy’s eyes slid to me, assessing. “Poor Tessa.”

Then she pouted up at Silas. “Don’t be so hard on her. She looks awful already.”

I glanced at the mirror beside me.

Yeah. Awful was generous. My hair was a mess, my skin pale, my lips cracked. A painting of exhaustion.

Silas furrowed his eyebrows, looking at me. “Tessa, you’re the one who told me not to go easy on you because you’re my girlfriend. That you wanted to be treated like everyone else in the group.”

He looked he wanted to say more, but eventually just sighed. “So pull it together. Rest tonight, then fix whatever you messed up first thing tomorrow. I don’t want the others whispering about my girlfriend’s incompetence, that she cannot even handle a deal properly.”

My hand drifted to the bullet wound beneath my shirt. I didn’t respond. Just hummed a quiet acknowledgment.

I had no intention of telling Silas the truth.

First—he didn’t care. He’d proven that well enough.

Second—I had already made the decision to leave. I needed these days to pack up my life in New York and disappear quietly. If Silas sensed something was different, if I so much as breathed wrong, the ever‑suspicious Silas would piece it together.

My mafia Don boyfriend might not love me that much to lose me. But he absolutely would not let me walk away freely—not when I’d been his girlfriend for five years and his partner in half the shady dealings he dragged me into.

Silas walked to the door, then paused, looking back at me, “By the way, Amy will be staying in our bedroom—”

I cut in before he could finish. “That’s alright.”

“I …”

“You should stay with her for a while. We both know how she gets when her nightmares hit.” It worked for me too—I wouldn’t have to look at Silas any more than I wanted to.

“Mm,” Silas nodded and led Amy out the door. “Don’t wait up. I might be late.”

The room went silent after they left. My breath came out uneven from the pain clawing up my side.

From down the hall, a soft giggle drifted in. “Silas… I feel guilty you’re here with me, when your girlfriend’s all by herself.”

Silas’s voice was gentle. Gentle in a way it had never been with me. “Tessa’s my girlfriend, but you’re my family. I need to take care of you. She’ll understand. And even if she doesn’t—I don’t care. You’re my priority. Do you understand?”

Understand. Didn’t I already?

I lay down on the guest bed, mind spinning through the list of things I needed to sort out. Pack. Transfer. Cancel. Disappear.

More laughter, more whispers floated through the walls.

I pulled the blanket over my head, trying to drown it all out.

That night, Silas didn’t came back.