Page 19 of Matteo
Cassius: He’s talking about Skye.
I rolled my eyes. This was the reason I avoided group chats, but it was the best way to get intel too. Ignoring everyone’s jabs, I focused on the message that started it all.
Me: Kostya, did Gabriel mention what personal business?
Kostya: Nope. Just something about Satan’s twins.
“Fuck,” I muttered. Jet and Elira were sort of stepsiblings to Amara Brennan, and although Gabriel could hold his own, those two were a breed of their own.
I typed a quick message directly to Gabriel.
Me: Message me if you need help.
“All good?” my father asked.
“Yes.”
Once Mom got peace of mind at seeing me unharmed, I’d check on my sister and Ari. Then, if Gabriel needed me, I could go back to campus.
Before Dad could say anything else, the driver pulled up in front of the steel gates of our family mansion. The place that had been my home since I was three.
“Don’t tell your mother about the footage,” Dad warned as the driver punched in the code for the gate. “It will upset her to see how close Francesca was to the shooter.”
I gave him a look. “She might already know.”
He shook his head. “Francesca will downplay it because she wants to stay at Yale.”
“But Nico has surely already seen the tape.”
“He has, and he’s keeping it hidden from his wife as well. Try to learn what the shooter said to Morrelli’s daughter.”
The tapes we watched were clear, but unfortunately, without audio and due to the angle, it was impossible to work out what was exchanged.
“Sounds like he plans to pull her from Yale,” I said.
My father chuckled. “Nico switched her to online courses the second he caught wind of the incident. It’s as if she never stepped foot on Yale. I’m sure his daughter won’t be surprised.”
The day was definitely looking up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ARIANNA
Finally alone in the Vitales’ guest bedroom, the events of the day hit me like a tsunami—violent and unexpected.
My hands trembled as I turned on the shower, the sound of running water anything but soothing. I reached for the zipper of my dress and pulled it down, its echo grating on my fragile nerves. It fell to the floor, pooling like a lake around my feet. I kicked off my shoes, rolling my ankles after a long day on my feet, then took in my reflection in the mirror, my dainty lace bra and panties so at odds with my current mental state.
There wasn’t a single bruise or scar on my body, yet every muscle in me ached.
Too exhausted to remove the rest, I stepped into the shower, closed my eyes as the water cascaded down my body, and finally opened my mind up to the disturbing images rattling me to my bones.Screams. Blood. Gun.
Pressing my back against the cold tile, I slid down to the shower floor and pulled my knees to my chest. A soundless sob gripped my throat as I rocked back and forth.
“Ari?” A voice reached me through the fog in my head and I looked up, finding Matteo standing in his suit and polished loafers. A stark contrast to my current mess.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” My teeth chattered. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He stepped into the shower, fully clothed, and sat next to me. He draped an arm over my shoulders, his suit drenched, and pulled me into him.
