Page 57 of Matteo

I arch an eyebrow at her. "Didn't realize you were such a devoted fan."

"I'm not; it was Niko's favourite movie when he was little." Her eyes glaze over with reminiscence. "Thousands of hours, Matteo. It's etched into my soul."

"Then, Michelangelo," I say, extending my arm in old-world courtesy, a dark smile playing on my lips, "may I have this honour?"

Her hand slips into the crook of my elbow, a silent pact sealed between us.

"We got two bodies to extinguish," I tell her, voice cheerful as a kid on Christmas morning.

"Oh, really?" The way her eyes light up, you'd think I'd promised her diamonds, not bloodshed.

"The blood lust has taken over there, Princess," I chuckle, but there's pride in that sound. She's mine—fierce and fearless.

"Absolutely," she says, the thrill of the hunt sparking within her. And with that, we stride together towards the night, ready to unleash hell upon anyone who dares cross the Ricci family.

"Okay, okay, let's go kill the past!" Eleanor's voice rings out, fierce and determined, but I'm not fooled. There's a hint of pallor beneath her usual fire, a subtle drain of color that tells me she's not as unaffected as she seems.

"Princess," I start, my voice low and steady, "we're just gonna get the intel on who's pullin' these strings, then we're out. Spike can handle the clean-up." My eyes lock onto hers, willing her to see the truth in my words. I shrug nonchalantly. "Unless you're itchin' to show off those sharpshooter skills again?"

A smirk dances on her lips, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. I wrap an arm around her, guiding her with a gentle nudge towards what awaits us outside. "Spike's got the wheels ready. Let's do this quick and get back to our boy."

"Okaaaay, you're right," she breathes out, more to herself than to me. We stride out together, the cool night air a slap of reality. The car sits idling, a beast waiting to devour the road. Spike's silhouette is barely visible behind the wheel, but his presence fills the space like a silentpromise of violence.

"Boss!" he greets, nodding as we slip into the leather seats.

I fasten my seatbelt, the click sounding like the chamber of a gun locking into place. "Spike, what's the low down?" I demand, every muscle tensed and ready for what's coming.

"Dean and Jeffrey spotted 'em holed up in Redfern," he says, his voice as gruff as gravel. "Just got word they nabbed 'em both. They’re hauling ass to the warehouse now."

"Good." The one word is a growl, satisfaction mixed with a hunger for retribution. The engine roars to life, echoing my dark anticipation, and we pull away from the curb, leaving behind the illusion of normalcy, plunging headfirst into the abyss.

The streetlights blur past us, painting Spike's set jaw in strobes of orange and white. "So, we're gonna head over to the warehouse," he says, the car devouring the road beneath us, "and hopefully they'll have 'em tied up and waiting for us."

"Good!" My voice is a snarl, the sound of it raw with the promise of violence. "I wanna know who is behind this." The craving for retribution gnaws at my gut, an animalistic hunger for blood and answers.

"We'll be there in twenty, boss." Spike's words slice through the tension like a blade.

I can't sit still, can't fucking wait to tear into whoever dared cross us. I turn to Eleanor, her profile carved from shadows and moonlight, every line of her face screaming she's made for this life as much as I am. I grab her chin, rough but needing her to feel me, to understand that this world, our world, won't swallow us whole.

"It's okay, Princess. The big bad wolf will deal with it," I promise her, my lips brushing softly against hers. It's a kiss meant to reassure, to claim, to remind her and me both who the fuck we are in this dark city's food chain.

But then her eyes—those sharp, clever windows to her fierce soul—widen. Shock ripples across her features, and I feel it. The prelude to chaos. A split second where everything slows down, and I know, I fucking know?—

Impact.

Metal screeches, glass shatters, and the world tilts on its axis. Instinct kicks in; I throw my arms around Eleanor, yanking her close as the car lifts off the ground. We're airborne, a brutal dance with gravity and fate, and then?—

Darkness swallows us whole.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Eleanor Wang

Time slows, the world flips—once, twice—an eternity of chaos. I'm a rag-doll in a tin can, thrown side to side, every bone-jarring impact a drumbeat to the ringing in my ears. My head's pounding like it's got its own heartbeat. We skid to a halt, and reality snaps back. The car’s upright, but the roof is smothering us, so damn close it presses me into the crushed leather of the back seat.

"Eleanor?" Spike's voice cuts through the dissonance, muffled, like he's shouting from beneath the water. "Eleanor?" Louder now, urgent.

"Here..." I groan, my voice a raspy whisper lost in the wreckage. My hand flails, seeking something solid. "Boss?" He's not calling for me now; his concern's for Matteo. I twist, a sharp stab of pain shooting through me as I reach toward the right where Matteo should be. Nothing but empty space and twisted metal where he should be.

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