Leo’s POV The drive back to the penthouse was silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing between us. My knuckles were still throbbing from the impact of the alleyway fight, and my shirt was stained with a mix of grease and blood—none of which was mine. Every time I glanced at Chloe, seeing her torn clothes and the dried blood on her knees, a fresh wave of murderous rage surged through me. Sino ang may gawa nito? The beggar's words haunted me. Malakas ang kalaban mo. Pagdating sa penthouse, I didn't wait for the valet. I carried her inside, my grip so tight it was almost bruising. I needed to feel her against me. I needed to be sure she was still breathing, still whole. “Leo, ibaba mo na ako. I can walk,” she whispered, her voice sounding tired and hollow. I didn't listen. I didn't stop until we were inside the master bedroom. I set her down on the edge of the bed, the silk sheets a stark contrast to her disheveled state. “Stay here. I’ll get the first-aid kit,” I
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