Page 14 of Matteo

"Thought you might need this Boss," Spike's voice breaks through the tempest, his hand outstretched, offering salvation—a cigarette and a flicker of fire.

"Thanks," is all I can muster, voice barely above the wind's wail. I huddle under my shirt, shielding the flame as I light up, inhaling deep, letting the nicotine hit me like a punch to the gut.

"I have a fucking son," I mutter into the void that stretches out beyond the balcony. No one hears. No one answers.

"He looks exactly like you," Spike says, standing beside me now, his gaze fixed into the darkness. He doesn't need to look at me; he sees what's in my soul.

I glance back through the window, catching sight of Niko curled into Eleanor, her arms a fortress around him. The kid's safe in a way I've never known—safe from me.

"Fuck, no wonder she ran," I rasp, smoke curling from my lips, carried away by the wind.

"She was keeping the kid safe," Spike adds, steady as ever. His words are a blade slicing open the truth I've avoided.

"Fuck, what do I do from here?" The question's a grenade in my mouth, ready to explode. "Do I leave and pretend we never found them, or do I take them home?"

Home. The word's a loaded gun, safety off, pointed straight at my heart.

My boot connects with the chair, skittering across the balcony like a puck on ice. "FUCK!" The word rips from my throat, raw and ugly.

"We could just kill Enzo...?" I spit out the idea like bad liquor. It's tempting, a quick fix to a complex problem. My hands itch for the violence that comes as naturally to me as breathing.

Spike leans against the railing, his eyes hard as diamonds. "And start another war? I'm starting to think she left because of the last war." His voice is a calm contrast to the storm raging inside me.

"Fuck," I mutter again, the word tasting of defeat this time. The smoke from my cigarette blends with the night air, indistinguishable now from the cold mist.

"Take them home, Boss," Spike presses on relentlessly. "Enzo knows about her already, and she is already unsafe. Even if Enzo doesn't know about the boy, he knows about her, and that's one too many people who know her location."

He's right. I know it's down to my goddamn bones. But the thought of dragging Eleanor and Niko back into myworld, where every smile is a prelude to a knife in the back, makes my stomach churn.

"Every move we make, there are pieces that fall," I say, flicking the cigarette over the railing and watching it disappear into the night.

"Better our pieces than theirs, Boss," Spike says quietly. He's not just talking about chess pieces. He's talking about lives—survival in this cutthroat world that devours weakness whole.

"Fuckin' hell," I growl, all the fight draining out of me. I can't leave them out here, dangling like bait for every hungry shark in the water.

"Alright," I finally concede, the decision feeling like a lead weight in my chest. "We take them home."

"Good call," Spike says, but we both know 'good' is just a relative term in our line of work. There's no good here, only less bad—and sometimes, that's the best you can do.

Chapter Seven

Eleanor Wang

"Shit, Niko, come here," I hiss, my voice low and tinged with an edge of urgency. Patting the couch with a shaky hand, I beckon him closer while shooting Spike, one of those looks that could kill a man at ten paces.

Niko sidles up beside me, his young eyes wide and curious as he thumbs towards the balcony. "That's him?" There's a tremble in his voice, one I've tried to iron out with talks of bravery and toughening up. This world we're tangled in—it's no place for softness.

"Yep, that's him, Baby." I hug him tightly, holding back the storm of emotions threatening to crack my façade. "Don't be scared; we talked about this," I murmur into his hair, the scent of innocence yet to be tainted by gunpowder and blood.

His small frame presses against mine, and his heartbeat is a rapid drum in his chest. "Does this mean we need to move to Sydney now?" His words are muffled against my top,the fabric soaking up the fear and confusion that shouldn't be part of his childhood.

I swallow hard, the weight of the decision heavy on my shoulders. My gaze drifts back to Matteo, the magnetic pull undeniable even after all these years. Just beyond the glass, he's there a dark silhouette against the dying light. The kingpin who once held my heart in his iron fist and never really let go.

"Let's wait to see what happens when Matteo comes back inside," I whisper, more to myself than Niko. I need to believe we still have time, a chance to brace ourselves for whatever hell he's about to drag us back into.

The moment is shattered as Matteo, with that same unnerving grace that belies his power, flicks his cigarette butt carelessly off the balcony, the ember tracing a fiery arc into the twilight. He turns, our eyes locking in a silent battle across the void between us as he steps back inside.

"Ever heard of saving the environment?" Niko's brave attempt at normalcy slices through the tension like a switchblade.

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