Page 15 of Dark Bonds

Exhaustion is my constant companion these days.

I fight to rein in my emotions and shove them back down where they belong, but it’s a losing battle. The memories of that day, the humiliation, the fear—it’s all too much. I’ve spent years trying to bury it and pretend it never happened, but that’s the thing about trauma—it doesn’t stay buried. It lurks, waiting for the moment when you’re at your weakest to strike, and when it does, it’s like drowning all over again.

I’m desperate for some sense of control, but the tears come anyway. They burn hot against my cheeks, a bitter reminder of everything I’ve endured and tried so hard to forget. I’m a survivor, damn it, but tonight, I feel anything but strong.

The shadows seem to cling to him, reluctant to let go, as if he’s part of their world. His eyes, dark and intense, find mine in the gloom. There’s something otherworldly about him, a power that radiates from his very being. This reminder of how little I truly know about him and his abilities should terrify me, but instead, it offers a strange sense of comfort. If he can command the shadows, then maybe he can keep my nightmares at bay.

I can’t tell if I’m happy, sad, disturbed, or any of the above. They are no longer hiding anything from me, but that doesn’t mean I forgive him. I also don’t snap at him and tell him to fuck off. No, the stupid girl inside me wants him to chase away the nightmare and memories.

Holding a finger to his lips, he steps close before crouching down so we are eye level. His dark eyes look almost black in the night as they hold mine. His presence feels like an anchor, grounding me in the here and now and not in the past.

“Scoot over,” he whispers, his voice soft but firm.

“Why?” I wheeze, my throat raw and dry. My mind races, trying to piece together why he’s here and how he knew I needed someone. Is this another betrayal in the making?

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurting,” he grinds out, his usually soft voice laced with an intensity that catches me off guard. There’s a fire in his eyes that both comforts and unnerves me. It’s as if the shadows around him darken, responding to his emotions.

“Have you been there the whole time?” I ask as I scoot over, because my entire world is crumbling around me, and I want some comfort. My body moves almost of its own accord, seeking the warmth and safety he seems to offer.

“I promised to always watch you,” Matteo murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. He settles onto the bed, kicking off his shoes with a soft thud. As he leans back against the pillows, I catch a whiff of his familiar cinnamon scent. It hits me like a punch to the gut—a bittersweet reminder of simpler times. I want to hate how comforting it is, but my traitorous body relaxes despite itself. Matteo stretches out beside me, his presence both reassuring and unsettling. “And I do,” he adds, his dark eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

“So you just casually hang out in the shadows,” I say, my tone both sarcastic and genuinely curious. His presence is somehow helping to ground me and keep me from falling back into the pit of despair. I can’t help but wonder what other secrets he’s keeping and what other abilities he might have.

Just another day in my bizarre life.

“I do. My mother used to tell me that a nightmare is our subconscious attempting to assist us in our waking life.” He glances down at me. His once shaved head is now a stylish cut that stands out against his brown skin. “Tell me about thedream.” He doesn’t ask, he demands as though he can kill off those in my nightmare.

Joke’s on him, they are all very much alive.

I swallow and almost look away, but instead, I crawl over to him and lay my head in the crook of his arm. “The last time I lay with a man like this, I killed him.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, a dark confession in the quiet night.

I don’t know why I say the words. Fuck, I don’t know why I even open up, but I did, and he doesn’t say anything. His breathing and heartbeat are steady, creating a rhythmic lullaby in the silent room.

“I’m still mad at you,” I whisper, my voice trembling with residual fear and anger. The words hang between us, a reminder of all that’s happened.

“Good,” he says, his tone calm and accepting. “Now, did he deserve it?”

My eyes unfocus as I go back to that day. Yeah, he fucking deserved it, but he isn’t the reason for the nightmare, although he is the reason for other nightmares. The memories swirl in my mind, a kaleidoscope of pain and survival.

Some ghosts refuse to stay buried.

Matteo hums. “He deserved it. Is he the reason your sleep is haunted?”

That’s one way of putting it.

“No,” I whisper. “Did you know about Valerie?” I ask him, my voice barely more than a breath. The question feels like a test, a way to gauge how much I can trust him.

“I knew about Valerie,” he answers, and I feel panic rush through me. “However, I did not know what she did. I only know she took you. That’s all,” he whispers, grabbing my hand and placing it over his heart. “Feel my truth.”

I don’t know what he means by that, but his heart beats steadily under my palm. I grip his shirt in my hands, wanting somuch to believe him. I need to believe him, because I need this stolen moment like I need air to breathe.

Trust is a luxury I can’t afford, and yet here I am.

The warmth of his body seeps into mine, the steady rhythm of his heart grounding me. The darkness of the room feels less oppressive with him here, and I find myself slowly relaxing, my muscles unclenching for the first time in what feels like forever. I close my eyes, letting his presence soothe the raw edges of my mind.

Matteo’s fingers glide through my hair in a steady, soothing rhythm that calms the storm raging inside me. “Know this, my gem,” he murmurs, his voice like a balm to my shattered nerves. “I will incinerate anyone who dares to harm you. No one will ever touch you without your permission again—not while I’m here.”

There’s a fierce protectiveness in his words, an unwavering determination that makes my breath catch. I nod against his chest, a tear slipping free despite my efforts. His hand doesn’t stop its gentle motion, lulling me into a state of calm I haven’t felt in years. I allow myself to trust him, to believe in his promise, and for the first time, I feel a sliver of hope that maybe I can find peace again.

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