Page 62 of The Chameleon

Matteo’s heart ached. He couldn’t just leave the kid. Of course he was afraid to trust a strange man he just met on a dark street. This was how horror movies were made. But how could he get the boy to trust him?

“You got a cell phone?” The young man nodded. “How about you take a picture of me, then you can send it to someone you trust. This way, someone will know that you are with me, and you can go ahead and trust me.”

Matteo had read about this tactic in a magazine discussing how to build trust with someone you just met. It gave the person a sense of security, knowing that if something went wrong, there was documented evidence of their attacker available. More often than not, a person with malicious intent would not agree to having their photo taken.

After a moment’s hesitation, the boy pulled out his cell phone and snapped a photo before sending it off to someone he knew.

Having a cell phone. That was another good sign. It meant that the boy had not been living on the streets very long and that someone had been paying the cell phone bill. The boy? His parents?

Watching him slide his cell phone back into his hoodie pocket, another thought occurred to Matteo. There was someone out there who the boy trusted. So why didn’t the boy go and stay with them?

Matteo wasn’t quite sure whether that was an appropriate question to ask, considering how long it took him to gain the boy’s trust in the first place. He didn’t want the boy to think he didn’t want to help after all.

“Shall we go?” Matteo asked in Spanish. He didn’t want to pressure him until he felt safe and ready.

Nodding slightly, the boy stood and waited for Matteo to lead the way.

20

ARES

Sucking back on his cigarette, Ares stared out into the dark forest before he slowly exhaled.

Matteo had been gone for almost three hours now, and Ares was beginning to wonder if he was ever coming back.

Why did he have to open his big mouth and ask? They were having such a nice evening together, chilling and reminiscing about the good times. The two of them just… being.

But once again, Ares had to go and fuck everything up all because he was selfish. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to know why Matteo hated him so much. Most exes remain pissed at their ex for six months to a year, but Matteo held a fucking grudge like it was nobody’s business. No matter how many times Ares made contact or stopped by the château, Matteo always greeted him like a bad case of herpes.

Now he knew why.

In truth, he wished he hadn’t asked Matteo the question. Ares never considered what sort of effects his probing might have on his ex and what painfully healed-over scars might get ripped open in the process.

No. Ares was only thinking about himself once again.

Asshole.

You deserve to be alone. A selfish creature like yourself doesn’t deserve to be with someone as great as Matteo. You deserve to suffer. You deserve to rot. Alone and miserable.

Selfish as always.

The tip of Ares’s cigarette brightened as he sucked in another lungful of smoke. He’d quit smoking nearly fifteen years ago but always had a cigarette or two whenever he was pissed or hating himself for something. Tonight, he’d been able to find an old pack of smokes he’d stashed in the cabin years ago. They were stale as fuck, but they served their purpose.

Actually, Ares was surprised that Matteo hadn’t found them, but hey, how often was one searching above their kitchen cabinets? It’s amazing what sort of freaky-ass shit criminals are willing to hide up there. FYI, never check on top of a criminal’s armoire in their bedroom. You’ll never be able to look the person in the eye again if you do.

Getting back to his wallowing…

Selfish.

Just like the day he chose to end things with the one person who gave his life meaning…

Twelve Years Ago

Ares glanced down at his phone as it vibrated across the coffee table.

Fuck. What did this asshole want? He’d better get it.

“Yeah?” Ares barked into the phone, waiting for his second-in-command to respond.

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