Malakai

Isabella's POV

“Italy? I’m in Italy?” I whispered, my voice cracking. My throat felt dry, probably because I hadn’t used it in months. The nurse nodded, but she didn’t answer; instead, she turned around and left the room, leaving me in confusion.

My body was heavy, but I tried my best to sit up nonetheless. The door opened, and a different nurse walked in this time, with a smile on her face. “How are you feeling?” she asked; her English carried a bit of an Italian accent.

“I—“ I didn’t know how to respond to all that was happening around me. I was alive, and I was well. “I don’t know. I woke up, and I don’t know how I got here.” I said. It was hard for me to adjust to this new reality.

“You’re safe,” she said with a warm smile, her words reassuring. “You’ve been through a lot, but you’re in good hands now. My name is Rina.”

Safe? I wasn’t sure I believed that. “Why am I in Italy?”

“You were brought here after your accident,” Rina explained. “You’ve been unconscious for six months now. Mr. Don arranged for your care.”

“Mr. Don ?” I repeated, my brows furrowed. It was a name I’d never heard before in my life. 

“Yes, I believe he was the one who saved you; he brought you here six months ago on the brink of death.” The nurse said as she checked on the monitors, jotting some things down in her folder. I was saved. 

The nurse left a few minutes later, and I remained seated, thinking about everything that transpired. Simon… he probably believed I was dead. He’d betrayed me. I should’ve been happy he thought I was gone, but instead, I just felt… empty.

Thinking about it made anger flare up in my chest. I looked down at my shoulder, where I was shot; the wound had healed, but it left a scar.

A scar that would remain.

The sound of the door being pushed open made me cover my shoulder once more with the hospital gown. I looked up at the door. A man stepped inside, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

He was tall, easily over six feet, with dark, slightly wavy hair that framed his chiseled features. His eyes were a striking color of green. I blinked as I looked at the stranger in front of me.

“Isabella.” He calmly said he was soft-spoken. He didn’t have an Italian accent, but his features looked Italian. My brows furrowed. Was this the man who saved me? “You must be confused,” he said. He stepped closer and took a seat in a chair that was placed beside the bed. “I’m Malakai Don .” Don . I was right. He is the one the nurse was talking about. Suddenly, I had no words.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “You’re the one who found me?” I managed to get the words out; it was all too much to take in.

“Yes,” he said simply, his eyes surveying me. He let out a sigh before leaning against the chair. “You washed up ashore near my beach house.” His words made my eyes widen. I washed up. All the way from London?

I blinked, the words sinking in. “I washed up? From London?” How is that even possible?

Malakai nodded. “The current must have carried you far. When I found you, you were unconscious, injured, and…” He paused, his gaze darkening, and his voice dropped. “Barely alive.”

My throat tightened; a stranger saved me from the brink of death. Whilst the one man I trusted with my life, the man I was married to for two years, left me to die. He killed me. I turned my gaze to Sebestian. “You saved me.” 

“I couldn’t just leave you there,” he said. His tone was calm, brushing it off. It’s been six months; he covered my treatment for six months.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaky. “I don’t know how to even begin repaying you.” I said. I had nothing to my name anymore. And the thought of it made me feel like a failure.

Malakai leaned back in the chair, his gaze softening, as if he could read through my expression. “You don’t need to. What matters is that you’re alive.” He stopped, as if considering if to continue. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re Isabella Monroe. Correct?” 

I nodded at his question, but for some reason the question he asked scared me. “Your death was announced publicly six months ago.” He said. My death was announced; it felt like a dream, but here I was, alive. But why was he telling me about that?

Malakai continued. “You suffered serious injuries. A gunshot wound to your shoulder, several broken ribs, and cuts from the debris in the water. It was… a miracle you survived.”

I nodded slowly, my hand brushing the scar on my shoulder. “I remember being shot,” I said quietly. The memory of the pain, the betrayal. It was all still fresh.

Malakai watched me carefully. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What?” I asked as I turned my attention towards him; for some reason, the way he said it made my heart skip a beat.

“Your face,” he said, his tone cautious. “It was… severely injured. The doctors had to perform reconstructive surgery.”

For a few seconds, I just stared at him, a feeling of dread creeping up my bones, trying to process his words. Reconstructive surgery? 

“You don’t look the same,” Malakai continued. “Your face has been altered.”

My heart dropped and my eyes widened. His words felt like something out of a movie. On instinct, my trembling hands flew up to my face. “W-what?” My words were barely audible. “A mirror… Give me a mirror.” I demanded.

Malakai hesitated, clearly not fond of the idea. “I don’t think—“ I cut off his words in a panic before he could even complete them.

“Give me a mirror.” I demanded, my heart beating against my chest.