Knowing that a man is involved in something criminal is not the same as feeling his fingers dig into your arm hard enough to leave prints. Not the same as seeing the emptiness in his eyes when he tells you that you belong to him. Not the same as lying awake at night, flinching at every sound, wondering if tonight is the night he finally snaps.
“Yes,” I admit quietly. “I know who he is. I know he’s dangerous. And I know you’re in a similar line of work.” I lift my chin, trying to find some of my usual backbone. “I don’t want to get caught up in all of that.”
Frustration flickers across Matteo’s face.
My pulse kicks up. Here it comes. The anger. The threats. The part where he shows me he’s just like Viktor after all.
But he doesn’t move toward me. Doesn’t raise his voice.
“Reread your texts,” his tone is clipped, but still even. “Look at the bruises on your arm. Maybe then you’ll understand that you’re already caught up in it, whether you like it or not.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I can handle this, that I don’t need some stranger swooping in with his guns and his crazy proposals.
But the words won’t come.
“Think about it,” Matteo says. “Call me if you change your mind.”
He’s gone before I can form a response, disappearing into the shadows between streetlights. I stand there for a long moment,my back still pressed against the brick, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
Eventually, I push off the wall and head toward the entrance of my building. My hands shake as I punch in the door code. I mess it up twice before the lock clicks open.
The elevator ride to my floor feels endless. Every floor that passes brings fresh waves of panic. What if Viktor’s waiting? What if he saw me with Matteo? What if?—
My hands shake as I unlock my apartment door. Empty. Just like I left it.
I step inside and close the door behind me, locking the deadbolt and the chain. Then I check the windows. The closets. Under my bed like I’m a kid afraid of monsters.
But the monster I’m afraid of is real, and he has my phone number, and he knows where I live.
I kick off my shoes and pad into the kitchen on bare feet. The tile is cold. Grounding. I grab a water bottle from the fridge and drink half of it in one long pull, then press the cold plastic against my forehead.
My apartment has always felt like a safe space. I decorated it myself with thrift store finds and enough greenery to make my mom joke that I’m running a nursery out of my living room.
Tonight, it feels like a cage.
I drift to the living room window and look down at the street. Matteo is long gone. The sidewalk is empty except for a guy on a skateboard. Normal. Safe.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I nearly drop it. Just a notification from my bank app, but the spike of adrenaline leaves me shaky.
This is exactly what Matteo was talking about. I’m already living in fear.
I sink onto my couch and pull up Viktor’s messages. Reading through them again feels like scratching a mosquito bite—painful, but I can’t stop myself.
The messages are all from different numbers. He keeps getting new ones after I block him. The first few are almost sweet. Sickeningly so.
I miss you, baby. I know I messed up. Let me make it right.
You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Don’t throw that away.
Then they start to shift. The sweetness curdles into something ugly.
You think you can just walk away from me? You think anyone else will want you?
I see you, Sierra. I know where you go. Who you talk to. You can’t hide from me.
You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.
