Matteo saved my life. I know that. But watching him fire back at Viktor, his face going completely blank like someone flipping a switch—it drove home what I already knew but hadn’t fully absorbed.
This is his world. Violence isn’t abstract to him. It’s a tool he wields without hesitation.
I’m grateful. God, I’m so grateful. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make everything feel more real. Like I’ve stepped through a door I can’t walk back through.
I knew both of them were in the mafia. I knew they lived criminal lives, operated in shadows I’d only glimpsed from the edges. It’s easy to tell yourself you can stay separate from all that. Easy to believe you can be with the man without touching the violence.
Then you end up with a bullet graze on your arm and surgical glue pulling at your skin every time you move.
I trace my fingers over the bandage. The wound throbs beneath the gauze, a steady reminder that this is real. That I’m not watching some crime drama on Netflix. This is my life now.
So much for sleep. My brain apparently didn’t get the memo that we survived today and can stand down now. It’s toobusy replaying every terrible moment on a loop, like some masochistic highlight reel.
I throw off the covers and pad toward the door, figuring I’ll find Matteo. Maybe being near him will help settle the noise in my head.
The hallway is dark, but the hushed murmur of voices pulls me toward the living room. I recognize Matteo’s voice immediately, but the other voice is unfamiliar.
I move quietly down the hall, my bare feet silent on the hardwood.
“...you know, I’m starting to think they all should go. Kozlov. Viktor. The whole goddamn organization.”
I freeze just outside the doorway.
“You think we’ll need to wipe out the entire Bratva?” Matteo’s question sounds way too calm for the subject matter. Like they’re discussing whether to order pizza or Thai.
My stomach drops. The rest of their conversation blurs as those words echo through my skull.Wipe out the entire Bratva.This is what I’ve stepped into.
“...you’re right.” Matteo’s voice cuts through my spiral. “This won’t end until one of us is gone.”
“Let’s make sure it’s them.”
Footsteps move toward the front door. No goodbye. Just the click of the latch and then silence.
I count to ten before stepping into the living room.
Matteo sits on a recliner, shoulders slumped forward, one hand rubbing his eyes while the other fists against the cushion beside him. He looks tired. More than tired. He looks like a man carrying weight he never asked for.
A small part of me thinks I should let it go. Pretend I didn’t hear anything. He looks exhausted, and I came out here for comfort, not a confrontation.
But I can’t unhear what I just heard.Wipe out the entire Bratva. This won’t end until one of us is gone.
I need to understand what I’m in the middle of.
His head turns toward me. The concern that floods his eyes makes it hard to swallow. “You okay? You should be resting.”
“I heard you. Just now.” I move to the couch, curling into the corner. “Wiping out the entire Bratva?”
His jaw tightens, but he says nothing.
“I knew you and Viktor were enemies. I knew this thing between us was about getting to him.” I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. “But I thought it was personal. You and him. I didn’t realize it was... this.”
“A war,” he says flatly.
“Yeah.” The word feels strange in my mouth. Too big. Too real. “A war.”
He doesn’t offer anything else. Just sits there, shoulders tight, watching me process.
“Help me understand,” I beg. “Please.”
