The tension lays thick in the atmosphere—so thick it presses down on my chest, stealing the oxygen from my lungs.
He chuckles low and dark. “Oh, look who has turned into a tough guy now.”
I don’t indulge him with a response.
“Oh, how I love this little game of ours, Matteo. But it looks like my time is up and I need to run. Don’t worry—round two will not be too far. But until then,ciao.” He gives me a mock salute and steps away with a smile I want to erase. He turns on his heel and makes his way to the awaiting cars with Vladimir’s flag on them.
I don’t wait to see him get in. I hop into my car, not wanting to give myself the chance to start something I won’t be able to contain in this parking bay. I press on the gas and peel out like hellfire is hot on my wheels.
I try to call my wife on the way home, but she doesn’t answer. I try five more times and still no answer. Panic begins to bubble from my core, but I force it down. I press the gas harder and floor it all the way to the penthouse. My stomach is on the floor of the car, my blood heated from seeing that demon.
The moment I open the apartment door, the air hits me—stale and still, like fear has soaked into the walls.
“Beatrice?” I call her name frantically. “Beatrice!”
I hear nothing in return and my heart sinks.
“Beatrice!” I’m frantic and panicked now. She has to be here. I know she is here. “Beatrice!”
Then I hear it. A low, strangled cry from the kitchen.
My chest tightens.
I drop my keys, barely registering the clatter, and move through the rooms, pulse slamming against my ears. I make my way into the kitchen and find her on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest.
“Oh, Bea…”
Her face is pale, lips parted, eyes wide and unseeing. She’s staring at the floor, dazed. She’s gasping—desperate for air.Broken sounds slip from her lips, her chest rising too fast, like her lungs have forgotten how to hold air.
“Beatrice—”
She doesn’t hear me. She rocks herself, sweat beading along her hairline as she tries to work through the panic shaking her body.
I rush over and drop to the floor beside her. I take her face in my hands and force her to look at me. Her skin is cold to the touch.
Christ. She looks as pale as a ghost.
“Look at me, amore. Look at me. It’s Matteo.” My voice stays gentle, soothing. “You’re safe, amore.”
She blinks, her low strangled cries softening as I pull her into my arms. Her body trembles, but I hold steady.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, pulling her closer. “I’ve got you.”
She shakes her head, eyes still wild. “Fear just… flooded in.”
“I know.” My jaw clenches as I run my hand along her back. “I know. You don’t need to explain.”
I hold her tighter, cradling the back of her head, letting her sink into my chest. Her whole body is trembling, like something inside her has cracked and she’s just trying to keep from falling through it.
“What if something happened… what if Daniele?—”
“Shhh.” I rock her gently. “You don’t need to be afraid. Nothing bad is going to happen to Daniele. Not while I’m breathing.”
She buriesher face in my chest, her tears soaking through the cotton, and I just hold her.
We stay like that a little while longer before we finally pull apart. Her breathing has slowed, and her eyes are bloodshot from all the tears she’s cried.
I cup the side of her face, brushing away the last stray tears that slip free.
