“No,” I snarl.
It’s final.
A slammed door she’s not getting through.
"Why not?"she snaps, her eyes burning into mine like she’s trying to tear the truth out of me with nothing but fury and hurt."I have a right to know, Matteo."
She does.Fuck, I know she does.
But some truths don’t bring peace.
Some answers don’t heal.They just hollow you out even deeper, leave you bleeding in places no one can see.
I’ve already watched this world take enough out of her.Already seen it try to gut her and leave her with nothing but scars.I won’t be the one to finish the job.
I throw back the rest of the whiskey, welcoming the burn, needing the distraction.Anything to keep me from drowning in the way she’s looking at me.
Emery sees it for what it is.A dodge.A fucking diversion.It pisses her off, burns through her eyes like a slap I deserve.
I see it in the hard set of her jaw, in the way her shoulders square, ready for war.And fuck, I know it’s aimed at me.But I don’t give her an answer.Not yet.Not when the truth will shatter more than just her.She’s not going anywhere near that fucker.Not while I’m still breathing.Not with my father’s silence crawling down my spine, heavy and cold, a loaded gun pressed to the back of my skull.Not until I know what the hell’s about to crawl out of the dark and come for us.
Her eyes flash, and before I can even move, she explodes.
"Fuck you, Matteo!"she snaps, her voice splintering, fury and heartbreak bleeding out in every word. "You don’t get to make that choice.You don’t get to sit there, drowning in whiskey and lies, pretending it’s about protecting me while all you’re really doing is keeping me locked in the fucking dark."
She steps back, breathing hard, her fists clenched so tight at her sides it looks like she’s holding herself together by force.
"I’m going to find him," she says, louder now."With or without you.I deserve to know why he threw me to the fucking wolves."
She turns away, as if being near me might tear her apart.Her footsteps hammer across the hardwood, each one louder, angrier, an attempt to outrun the silence I wrapped around us.
She stops at the far window, arms clamped tight across her chest, the only barrier between her and a full-body collapse.
Her back’s to me, but I see it all.The rise and fall of her shoulders with every ragged breath.She’s barely holding it in, fists clenched, jaw tight, bracing against the scream clawing its way up her throat.
She stares out the window, searching the sky for answers I won’t give.Praying it’ll say something I won’t.
“You know what hurts the most?”she says, still facing the window, her voice frayed and low.“It’s not that my father sold me out.It’s that you turned out no better than him.”
And fuck… my stomach twists so viciously it feels like something just tore loose inside me.
Then she turns.Slow.Shaking.
And fuck… there they are.Tears, slipping down her cheeks in silence, dragging pieces of her with every drop.
And it wrecks me, because I’ve never seen her cry.
Not Emery.
Not the girl who stared down the world and laughed.The one who once looked me dead in the eye and said tears were weakness.A waste of strength.
Those tears are because of me and for the first time in years, something real slams through the numbness I’ve spent my whole life building.
She stands there for a second longer, eyes searching mine, like she’s trying to find the version of me she used to believe in.
When she doesn’t, her voice cuts through the silence.It’s sharp enough to slice me wide open.
"I can’t do this, Matteo," she spits."I can’t rot away behind these walls like some prisoner you threw a leash on.This isn’t living, Matteo.It’s a slow fucking death."
