Capone!
Even though they had never truly met, he instantly recognized that the man in front of him was Capone.
His instinct was to step forward and protect Sophia, but it was too late. Capone stepped between them, pushing him away, keeping a great distance.
It seemed like just a step away, but in that moment, it felt like crossing a thousand mountains. For a fleeting second, Roger felt like he would never see Sophia again.
"I'm sorry I'm late!" Capone's tone was slow and calm, a simple sentence that didn't sound like an apology, nor like comfort—it was as if he was simply stating a fact.
Around them, there was chaos, but neither he nor Sophia could see or hear it. The world seemed to be reduced to the distance between him and her as he stood by her side.
Sophia wanted to raise her eyes to look at the man in front of her, to ask some questions, but the words were caught in her throat, as if a fire was burning inside her. The phrases were fragmented and eventually turned to ashes. She couldn't say a single word.
She didn't even have the courage to truly look at him, because if she did, everything would become real.
It felt so blurry, so unreal, that maybe if she screamed, cried, or covered her ears and stomped her feet, the dream would end, and everything would vanish into dust.
But why was she still here? Why wouldn't the dream wake up?
Why wouldn't it wake up…
"Why…" She finally spoke, though she wasn't sure what she was asking about—what question it was.
Capone's jawline tightened, as if wanting to explain, but didn't know where to start.
"Boss, you two should go first!" Terry, the fifth, leaned in and spoke, his gaze briefly flickering over their faces. The pallor and anxiety in their expressions were already etched in his mind.
The aftermath would be handled by him, Winter (the seventh), and Karl (the twelfth). The boss only needed to take the troublesome girl and leave directly.
They hadn't dressed this formally in a long time to accompany Capone to a social event. Since they were here, they had to observe the different faces and finish the whole performance before leaving.
But Capone didn't have any worries. They would take care of everything. There were brothers waiting outside, with the car and flight all prepared. Once they left the venue, everything else would be between the man and the woman.
Perhaps this was the most difficult and absurd task they had ever been assigned—helping the boss steal a woman!
Capone didn't waste any more time. In fact, from the moment they entered to the present, it had only been a minute, yet it felt like a whole era had passed.
The woman beside him looked like a fragile flower about to be blown away by the wind, standing there weakly, as if the soft vines might be pulled up by the roots.
If he were a great tree, he would hope for those soft vines to twine around him, slowly tightening, and he would protect her, support her.
Capone directly hoisted her over his shoulder, a bit like carrying a bag of rice or sand. But she seemed to have no weight at all, light and fragile, making him feel protective. He turned and gave a fierce glare to the people in the venue and the chaos. Despite standing in the same space, he looked down at them with an air of supreme arrogance, as if to announce one thing:
This woman is mine!
Sophia's head hung down, the blood rushing to her brain. For a moment, she wanted to struggle, but she simply didn't have the strength.
She probably even forgot how to struggle. Her waist and abdomen were pressed against Capone's shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around her legs, securing her firmly. She couldn't move, only swaying lightly with his steps. The smooth marble floor and the bright Persian red carpet seemed to retreat with each step, as if her original world and the dream of a new life were slowly fading away.
There were petals scattered on the floor, falling from her hair and ears, like pieces of a broken heart, each petal falling and wilting.
The boss and Matthew tried to rush over to save her, but she knew it was impossible.
Her consciousness slowly returned to her body. She could imagine how carefully Capone had planned today.
Her brothers... they were no match for the people around Capone.
She only hoped that he wouldn't go so far as to take a life. She couldn't involve any more innocent people.
The bumping motion made Sophia feel an overwhelming urge to vomit, but nothing came out. She no longer had the courage or the need to keep going. Darkness swept over her. She didn't know when she lost consciousness, but if this darkness was endless, she would rather never wake up again.
In the haze, she heard the sound of waves. Although her eyelids were heavy, Sophia was determined to wake up.
The dream had gone on too long, too long. The people in the dream had no faces, only voices calling her name. They sounded familiar, but she couldn't tell who was who.
The only thing clear were the degrading photos, her expression and large patches of bare skin, and the exquisite ring on the entwined fingers.
Why are you doing this to me? Why destroy everything…
She asked herself this question countless times in the dream, but there was no answer.
So, she had no choice but to wake up and face this cruel reality.
"Are you awake?"
A clear and pleasant voice, a familiar calm tone. The person sitting by the bed was none other than Diana.
"Diana? I…" Sophia tried to speak, but as soon as she opened her mouth, her throat felt as though it had been scraped with sandpaper, and her voice was harsh and rough.
The white bed linens, the white walls, the simple, elegant decorations—everything screamed that she was in a hospital room. She had an IV drip in her hand.
"What happened to me?"
"You were severely stressed and your blood pressure dropped too low, causing you to faint. The doctor says you'll be fine after some rest. You'll recover soon!"
"Where am I?"
"The port!"
Sophia's heart sank. After going in circles, she had ended up back here.
Life truly is a circle.
"By the way, Diana… are you alright? Dr. Cronus, what happened to him? Didn't he get shot last time? You two…"
Sophia hadn't finished speaking when Capone's cold voice shot through the air like an arrow. Diana stood up, frowning slightly. "Capone!"
Capone nodded at her, then his gaze fell on the still-pale face lying on the bed. Just moments ago, his heart, which had seemed encased in a hard shell, softened in an instant. He stared at her without saying another word.
"You two take your time. I won't interrupt," Diana said tactfully, rising to give them space. There was too much for them to say, and an outsider had no place in this room.
Capone pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. He didn't touch her further; he just stared at Sophia from a distance.
"Don't you have any questions?"
He had already shed the dark, sharp suit he had worn earlier, as if the thunderous, overwhelming energy it carried had never existed, as if the ceremony and the theft of her had never happened. Less than 24 hours later, it had all disappeared like smoke.
Sophia's hands were folded over the blanket, her body half-reclining against the bed. She kept her eyes fixed on the needle in her hand, slightly tilting her head as if she hadn't heard Capone's question. He seemed like nothing more than a breath of air, a Zoey, not someone she needed to acknowledge or respond to.
Seeing that she didn't react, Capone reached over and placed his hand gently on the back of her hand where the IV was inserted. The liquid flowing into her hand made it feel ice-cold to the bone, the purple-red capillaries under her skin becoming clearly visible.
He used the warmth of his palm to soothe her, gently squeezing, filled with reluctance.
"Is it cold? Do you want me to add another blanket or get you a hand warmer?"
The corner of Sophia's lips seemed to twitch slightly, and she finally spoke, "How many people have you hurt... or killed?"
Capone didn't respond, his narrowed eyes revealing a glimpse of his emotions. "Do you think I would hurt someone?"
"My parents, my brother, and my uncle's family were all there. You brought so many people. I just wondered... have you avenged your mother?"
Capone gently rubbed her hand, trying to warm it, smiling slightly. "Old Five, Old Seven, and Little Twelve—you haven't really interacted with them before, so you might not understand their abilities. With them around, I don't need to hurt anyone to bring you back to me!"
There seemed to be a ripple in Sophia's eyes, and she coldly laughed. "I'm afraid you still have use for the Diaz family, don't you? This time... what are you planning to exchange me for?"
Capone didn't want to explain further. There were many things that needed the right timing, and both of them needed to be calm and composed to speak clearly.
He warmed her hand and tried to tuck it under the blanket. "Rest well. We can talk when your body is better."
Sophia suddenly jerked her hand away, as if the hand on her skin was the most poisonous snake in the world. The force was so great that it dislodged the needle. Capone tried to block her, but Sophia yanked it completely out. Blood droplets, with the IV tube and needle, arced through the air and landed on the pristine white sheets, stabbing at Capone's eyes.
"Stop it!" He restrained her, raising his hand to grab a cotton swab from the nightstand, attempting to stop the blood on her hand.
"Where's Roger? Where is he?" Sophia asked with just one sentence, and Capone froze in his actions.