I hit send, then immediately regret the vulnerability in those words. No, fuck that. The only thing I regret is not being over there right now to kick down her door.
“Earth to Matteo,” Remus’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You planning to share with the class, or just stare at your phone like a lovesick teenager?”
“Just business,” I lie, pocketing the device.
Enzo laughs, the sound sharp and knowing. “If that’s your business face, I’d hate to see what you look like when you’re actually invested.”
Something about his tone—the subtle mockery, the implication that I’m transparent—makes something in me snap. The whiskey burns in my veins, loosening my tongue and my better judgment.
“I’m in love,” I blurt out, the words falling into the room like a live grenade.
The silence that follows is absolute. Enzo freezes mid-exhale, ash dropping from his cigar onto his pristine sleeve. Remus’seyes widen, his glass halting halfway to his lips. Rafe, the only one who already knew, just smirks into his whiskey.
“In love,” Remus echoes. “With who? If it’s with yourself, it’s hardly announcement-worthy.”
“He’s in love with the woman he… coerced into helping him,” Rafe explains. “Raven something.”
“Raven?” Enzo asks, his tone coated in that D.C. superiority he usually reserves for politicians or us common folk when he’s figured something out we haven’t caught up to yet.
“Raven Carter,” I confirm.
Enzo bursts into laughter. Not the polite chuckle of someone humoring a joke, but full-bodied, genuine laughter that makes him lean forward in his chair.
“Something funny?” I ask, my voice dropping to a dangerous register.
He wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “No, no. Nothing at all.”
“Then what’s with the hysterics?” I press, feeling my fingers tighten around the crystal tumbler.
“Just…” He composes himself with visible effort. “… just never thought I’d see the day. That’s all.”
Remus glances between us, confusion evident in the furrow of his brow. “Am I missing something here? Who the fuck is Raven?”
“My woman,” I answer simply.
The possessiveness in my voice surprises even me. The thought of Raven—blonde hair spread across her pillow, knife in hand, chaos in human form—sends a pulse of heat through my veins that has nothing to do with the whiskey.
“Since when do you have a ‘woman’?” Remus presses, making air quotes that make me want to break his fingers.
“Since I say I do,” I snap back, draining my glass in one swallow.
Enzo’s eyes dance with something that looks suspiciously like insider knowledge. “And does she know she’s yours?”
The question lands like a sucker punch. Does she? After Emilio’s, the way she shut the door in my face, the radio silence since—I’m not so sure anymore.
“She’s mine,” I repeat instead of answering directly. “Whether she likes it or not.”
“Healthy,” Rafe deadpans, earning him a middle finger from me.
“Where’s Piper, by the way?” Remus asks Enzo, changing the subject. “Thought she’d be with you.”
At this, Enzo’s smirk deepens. “Helping a friend,” he says cryptically. “One who’s free as a bird, if you catch my meaning.”
I don’t catch his meaning, and from the blank looks on the others’ faces, neither do they. But there’s something in Enzo’s expression—a private amusement, a joke at my expense—that makes my skin prickle with unease.
My phone remains silent in my pocket, a dead weight that feels heavier with each passing minute. I picture Raven in her apartment, ignoring my texts, and something that feels dangerously close to desperation claws at my chest.
I don’t chase. I don’t worry. I don’t sit around waiting for someone to text me back. Except, apparently, I do.
