His hand moves to his jacket, pulling out the gun with a calm that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
He releases my arm, then curls his hand around the door handle and twists… slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the silence before the storm.
Matteo cracks the door open just enough to slide his gaze through.His eyes slicing through the shadows, searching every inch of the hallway like a predator waiting to pounce.There’s no urgency, just cold calculation.A mind working through every possible threat lurking in the dark.
His eyes flick back to me.It’s brief, but loaded, as if he’s deciding whether I’m a threat worth crushing or just another pawn to bend beneath his control.
Then he grabs my arm again, yanking me forward with that same brutal, unflinching precision.Not a person.Just a thing to be handled, something to be dragged into line.
Then he steps through the open doorway, planting himself in front of me.A shield I didn’t ask for but suddenly fucking need.
“Move,” he growls, his voice low.And in this moment, I know that disobeying him is not an option.
The dim light flickers above us, stuttering like a dying heartbeat, casting jagged shadows that crawl across the walls and chase us down the hallway.Every flicker feels like a warning.A pulse of tension that crawls up my spine and coils at the base of my neck.
Matteo’s grip on my arm tightens, forcing me to match his pace.Every step in sync with his.
He doesn’t break stride as he moves toward the main entrance door.He throws me a quick glance, then drives his shoulder into the door.Shoving it open with one smooth, brutal motion, like it costs him nothing to tear through whatever’s in his way.
The gun stays clenched in his hand, steady and sure, while his body moves with that lethal kind of grace.He’s the calm in the eye of the storm.Dangerous as hell, untouchable, and dripping with authority that dares anyone to test him.
His eyes sweep the shadows.Every muscle drawn tight, wired to explode with the slightest trigger.
He doesn’t move.Doesn’t make a sound.
He just stands there, waiting, the night itself a threat.His gaze drags the area, taking everything in.There’s a lethal kind of focus in his eyes, the kind that says he’s already chosen what he’ll destroy if shit goes sideways.
He stands still for a beat, every muscle coiled, like a predator testing the air for threats.He’s not just scanning the dark, he’s challenging it.Daring whatever’s out there to come closer, to try him.
When he’s convinced we’re clear, he steps into the night, dragging me with him.The cold snaps against my skin.It’s sharp and punishing, but Matteo doesn’t twitch.His eyes are locked on the black car buried in the shadows.It’s the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters in this fucked-up world we’re walking back into.
I’m still in my thin work shirt, the cold digging in with claws, burying itself deep.I don’t even know where my jacket went, the one I was wearing when I left the diner.
Matteo doesn’t slow… not for the cold, not for me.His pace is relentless, eating up the distance until we’re at the black car in seconds.He wrenches the passenger door open without a word, like patience was never part of the plan.
“Get your fucking ass in,” he commands, his voice cold with cruelty.
He doesn’t even look at me… just stands there, a mess he’s been forced to clean up.His eyes are hollow, dead, every part of him that used to feel stripped away.Rigid posture.Clenched jaw.A man who gave up pretending to give a damn a long time ago.
And me…I’m just collateral damage.A problem he wants to erase, not fix.
I don’t hesitate.
I slide into the seat, and the door slams shut behind me with a heavy thud.A lock clicks into place.Whatever this is, there’s no turning back now.
The silence that follows is deafening.Before I can even catch my breath, Matteo rounds the front of the car, expecting a ghost to drag itself out of the shadows.Every part of him wired for betrayal, convinced this is a setup.
He slides into the driver’s seat with that same lethal calm, like he’s done this a hundred times… with enemies, with ghosts, with girls who made the mistake of trusting him.
The door slams shut behind him.The gun rests on his thigh, casual as fuck, an extension of him.It doesn’t need to be pointed at me to make a statement.It already is.
The engine growls to life, low and pissed off, as if it knows exactly where we’re headed… and it’s nowhere good.Headlights carve through the dark, cutting a path straight to hell.His hands grip the wheel tight, knuckles white, jaw clenched—holding back a scream or the urge to kill.Rage rolls off him in thick, choking waves.He doesn’t say a word.He doesn’t have to.His silence screams louder than anything else ever could.
The car jerks forward, tires spitting against cracked asphalt, trying to shake the night off its back.
And just like that… we’re gone.
Matteo drives as if we’re being hunted, the past gnawing at his heels and survival riding on outrunning the devil with a fucking death wish.Every mile’s a challenge.Every turn, a dare.
