[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 86: Reckless

The sound of Cassian hitting the turf was a dull, sickening thud that seemed to vibrate through the very soles of my shoes. For a heartbeat, the entire estate went silent, the only sound the frantic whinny of Obsidian as the stallion hovered near his fallen master. Then, the world exploded into chaos.

"Cassian!" I screamed, my voice cracking. I didn’t think; I didn’t check for permission. I was off the chair and sprinting across the grass before my brain could even register that I was moving.

He was on the ground, rolling instinctively away from the horse’s dancing hooves. The crowd was a blur of gasping socialites and shouting staff. Mateo was yelling for a medic, his face pale, while Alex approached with a cautious, almost hesitant stride.

When I reached him, my heart nearly stopped. Cassian was on his side, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. A dark, jagged stain was blooming across the side of his pristine white shirt, a deep gash from where a splintered piece of the wooden beam had caught him during the fall. His face was twisted in a grimace of pure agony, his jaw locked tight enough to shatter teeth.

"Don’t touch him." Alex said calmly, reaching for Cassian’s shoulder. "Cassian, you need to stay down. You’ve probably broken something, "

"Get... back," Cassian rasped. It wasn’t a request. Even bleeding out on the grass, he sounded like he was issuing a corporate decree.

With a groan that made my own stomach turn, he pushed himself to his knees. His movements were slow, agonizingly deliberate. He looked like a man made of glass trying to reassemble himself.

"Cassian, stop!" I cried, dropping to my knees beside him. My hands were shaking so hard I had to tuck them into my lap. "You’re bleeding. You need to wait for the medic."

He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look at Mateo. He looked at Obsidian, who had calmed down and was standing a few yards away, head low and huffing. Cassian forced himself to his feet, his face pale as parchment, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead.

"You can’t be serious," Alex said, his voice rising in disbelief. "You’re injured. The round is over. It’s a forfeit."

Cassian turned his head slowly, his eyes burning with a cold, predatory light that silenced Alex instantly. "I am not done."

He limped toward the stallion. Every step looked like a marathon. He gripped the saddle, his knuckles white, and hauled himself back up. I heard him wince, a sharp, hissed intake of breath, as he settled into the seat. He reached down and retrieved the shotgun that had fallen nearby, checking the chamber with a bloody hand.

"I said," he repeated, his voice dropping to a lethal, steady pitch, "I am not done."

The final push was the most terrifying thing I have ever witnessed. Cassian didn’t just ride; he forced the world to bend to his will. He kicked Obsidian into a gallop, the horse sensing the raw, desperate authority in his rider. Blood was now soaking through the entire side of Cassian’s shirt, dripping onto the leather of the saddle, but his eyes were fixed on the horizon.

Target 9 appeared. Cassian raised the gun, his body swaying with the motion of the horse despite the obvious pain in his ribs. Crack. The target shattered.

Then, the final one. Target 10. It was a tiny speck in the distance, the furthest and most difficult shot on the course. I found myself gripping my own shirt, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I wasn’t torn anymore. I didn’t care about the bet or the humiliation or even Alex. I just needed him to win. I needed him to be okay.

Cassian exhaled, a long, shaky breath that I could almost feel from the sidelines. He steadied the barrel, his hand trembling for a fraction of a second before it went stone-still.

Crack.

The target exploded into a cloud of red dust.

The crowd erupted into a roar of disbelief and applause, but I didn’t hear them. I was already running again. Cassian slumped forward in the saddle the moment the shot was fired, his head dropping as Obsidian slowed to a walk. By the time the horse reached the edge of the paddock, I was there.

Cassian slid off the horse, and his legs immediately gave out. I caught him, my arms wrapping around his waist as I took his weight. He was heavy, solid, and smelled like gunpowder and blood.

"You idiot," I choked out, my voice thick with fear I refused to let show. "You absolute, arrogant idiot. You could have been killed."

He leaned on me, his breathing heavy and hot against my neck. Even in this state, he managed a weak, wicked smirk. "But I won, Noah. Didn’t I?"

I looked up at him. Our faces were inches apart. I could see the flecks of blue in his beautiful irises, the grit of the turf on his cheek, and the sheer, unyielding stubbornness in his gaze. It hit me then, like a physical blow to the chest. He hadn’t just done this for his ego. He had risked his actual life to keep me. To keep me from Alex. To keep me his.

The realization made my throat tighten until I couldn’t speak. This wasn’t just a game of control anymore.

"You’re bleeding," I whispered, my hand hovering over the red stain on his side.

"I know," he said, his voice losing some of its edge, sounding tired for the first time.

"Come on," I said, guiding his arm over my shoulder. "Let’s get you inside. If you die on me now, I’m going to sue your family for emotional damages."

The medic at the house confirmed it wasn’t a death sentence, a few cracked ribs and a nasty gash that required stitches, but nothing that rest and high-end Spanish painkillers wouldn’t fix. After he was patched up and bandaged, we were finally driven back to the suite in a silence that felt heavy and charged.

Once the door clicked shut, leaving us alone in the opulence of the room, the adrenaline finally began to fade, replaced by a sharp, biting anger. Cassian was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt off, the white bandages stark against his tanned skin. He looked vulnerable, which only made me angrier.

"What is wrong with you?" I snapped, pacing the length of the rug. "That was the most reckless, stupid thing I’ve ever seen. You could have internal bleeding! You could have been trampled! And for what? A stupid bet?"

Cassian snapped his head up, his eyes flashing. "It wasn’t about the bet, Noah. Don’t be naïve."

"Oh, right! It was about your ’honor’?" I scoffed, throwing my hands up. "Because you couldn’t stand the thought of losing to Alex? You almost died over a grudge!"

"I hate to lose," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Especially not to someone like Hendrix. He’s a bottom-feeder who thinks he can touch what belongs to me."

My heart gave a little traitorous skip at the word belongs, but I brushed it aside, my annoyance winning out. "Why do you hate him so much, anyway? What did he ever do to you besides exist?"

Cassian ignored the question, his expression shuttering. He reached out to the nightstand, wincing as the movement pulled at his stitches. "Get me the whiskey. The Macallan. From the bar."

"No," I said, crossing my arms.

He paused, his hand still extended. He looked at me like I’d just spoken in tongues. "Excuse me?" 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"You’re on heavy painkillers, Cassian. The medic specifically said no alcohol. You’re going to drink water and you’re going to go to sleep."

"Noah," he warned, his voice dropping into that familiar, authoritative tone. "Get the bottle. Now."

"Make me," I said, standing my ground. I figured his injury gave me the upper hand. He couldn’t exactly chase me around the room or pin me to the wall without popping a stitch. "You’re a patient right now, not a CEO. I’m the one in charge of your recovery."

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. A wicked, slow smirk spread across his face, the kind of look that usually meant I was about to regret every decision I’d ever made. "You think because I’m bandaged, I’m toothless? Come here."

"No. I’m going to get you some tea." I turned to make a break for the kitchenette, feeling a surge of misplaced confidence.

I didn’t even get two steps.

Despite his injury, Cassian moved with the speed of a striking cobra. He reached out, snagging my wrist and yanking me backward. I let out a yelp as I lost my balance, falling onto the bed beside him. Before I could scramble away, he used his weight to pull me down, pinning my shoulders against the mattress.

Our faces were inches apart. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of antiseptic and masculine musk filling my senses. My heart was doing a frantic tap-dance against my ribs.

"You were saying?" he whispered, his grip on my wrists like iron.

"You... you’re going to hurt yourself," I stammered, my face turning a vibrant shade of scarlet. I tried to pull away, but he was immovable, a mountain of bruised muscle and sheer will.

"I’ve survived worse than a cracked rib, Noah. But I don’t think you’ll survive what I’ll do to you if you keep defying me." He leaned closer, his nose brushing against mine. The tension in the air was so thick I could practically taste it. His eyes dropped to my lips, and for a second, the world stopped spinning. He was going to kiss me. I knew it. I wanted it so badly it hurt.

The distance between us was vanishing, the heat between us becoming unbearable,