Page 48 of Matteo

"Yeah, he's downstairs with Niko, doing tech stuff. He'll handle bedtime for the kid."

"Okay good, let's go then," she says, swinging her arms towards the door like she's wading into battle instead of stepping out into the night.

"Fuck, okay, yes, I'm getting distracted." Gritting my teeth, I shove open the front door, leading us into the cool air that does nothing to chill the heat curling inside me. I slide into the driver's seat, engine roaring to life under my command. Everything else fades away; it's just the road, the mission, the woman beside me.

"Okay, Princess," I start, voice low, every word measured. "We need to talk before we get there." I steal a glance her way, bracing for impact because if there's one thing I know about Eleanor, it's that she's full of surprises, and none of them play nice.

The car eats up the road, its growl a feral undercurrent to the silence stretching out between us. Streetlights flicker by, casting Eleanor's face in a staccato of light and shadow. She's a statue beside me, all cool lines and unreadable intentions.

"Hit me with it, Matteo," she murmurs, eyes glued to the bleak tapestry of the road unfurling ahead.

"Tonight, I need you obedient," I start, my grip on the wheel turning my knuckles white. "No fucking around, Princess. You do what I tell you. Please." The last word scrapes out of me like it's clawing its way through gravel.

"Okay." Just that one word, flat and final, and suddenly I'm the one off-kilter.

"Okay?" I echo, as if saying it again could fill the cavernous space her single syllableleft behind.

"Okay." She doesn't look at me, doesn't need to. Her agreement is a silent slap to my face, snapping me back into boss mode.

"Right, well, I’m not joking about this," I warn, each word bitten off, tasting like blood. "Spike has Toni," I confess, the words barely more than a whispered curse.

"I gathered," she replies, and there's steel beneath the velvet of her voice. It's a cold comfort, knowing she's with me but not flinching from the darkness.

"Are you going to be okay watching us question him?" I ask, because even though I can't shield her from the shitstorm, I still want to wrap her in bulletproof glass.

"As long as you kill him when you're done, I don't mind," she answers, dry as the desert wind that howls outside our bubble of calm before the storm.

"Mobster life is rubbing off on you nicely, Princess," I offer with a crooked smile, finding twisted pride in her adaptation to my fucked-up world.

"Let's hope not," she shoots back, but there's no real bite to her words, just resignation laced with a hint of dark humor.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Eleanor Wang

The warehouse looms before us, a beast of concrete and steel with shadows that swallow light whole. My pulse hammers against my throat, a desperate thrumming that begs me to turn back. I don't want this. I don't want to see his face—the face of a monster masquerading as a man.

"Come on, Princess," Matteo's voice slices through the dread, low and commanding. His hand is on my door before I even register he's left the car. Shit. I'm slipping, losing focus when I can't afford to let my guard down. Not here, not in the belly of the beast.

I slide out of the car, my legs feeling like they're made of something softer than flesh—something fragile and ready to break. Matteo extends his hand, and for a moment, I almost laugh. We could be headed to a dance, him in his dark, tailored menace and me in... well, whatever scraps of courage I've stitched together for armour.

"Can't I just stay in the car?" The words tumble out, weak and hopeful.

"No." It's a finality, a statement that allows no argument. "I don't trust anyone here enough with your safety than me. I'm sorry, Princess, but you will be sitting in the room with me."

His hand doesn't waver, steady and sure, waiting for mine. I place my palm in his, a silent concession, and immediately his grip tightens. We move in tandem toward the warehouse doors, each step a march into hell.

Why? The question gnaws at me, a rabid beast with sharp teeth. Why did they choose me? It was a blow meant for Matteo, sure, but to them, I was nothing more than a pawn. A means to an end that didn't change the final play. They lost their damn war, but still, they came for me. Why?

My legs betray me, a slight stumble in my stride, but Matteo is there, arm slung around my waist, pulling me close. "You're safe with me, Princess," he murmurs, lips grazing my temple—a kiss that's meant to comfort but feels more like a brand. He's all heat and power, the kind of dangerous that makes people cross the street to avoid him.

"Ready, Princess?" His voice is a blade, cutting through any illusion of gentleness he might have offered moments before.

As ready as I'll ever be, I think but don't say. Instead, I nod, bracing myself for what's to come. With Matteo, it's always a gamble—will he be the shield or the sword today?

And as we step into the darkness of the warehouse, I know it's time to find out.

The stench hits me like a punch to thegut, a rancid mix of decay and bleach. I gag, my body recoiling against the invisible assault. "Doesn't this smell make you wanna vomit?" I choke out, glaring at Matteo.

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