I lean in as far as the ropes and chains will let me, eyes locked on his.My voice drops to a whisper, sharp as broken glass.
“Deep down, you’re still the same fucked-up little boy playing dress-up in daddy’s suit, aren’t you?”I let it sit there.Let it burn for a moment before I speak again.“You don’t scare me.Not because you’ve changed… but because you haven’t.”
He takes a step and the light catches on that smirk, crooked, and cruel, and yet so damn familiar it hits like a punch to the ribs.
He steps even closer, still with that smirk tugging at his mouth, it’s smug, dangerous.But underneath the cruelty, for the briefest second, I see it, it’s him.The boy who once held my heart as if it wasn’t a weapon.The boy who used to whisper promises instead of threats.
“You think a few years, a new name, and some fucked-up sense of pride makes you dangerous?”He leans in.“You were better when you were begging.”
I smile, all teeth.“You were better when you had a soul.”
He laughs.It’s cold and sharp.“You think you ever touched my soul, sweetheart?”He tilts his head, voice hardening.“You were a fuck.A habit I broke.Nothing more.”
“Still pretending you're untouchable, Matteo?”I breathe.“I’ve seen you on your knees, remember… Whispering that you loved me as though it was the last fucking truth in the world."
And then his smirk comes, crueler than before.“You think I’ll turn back into that pathetic bastard who thought he could save you.Who used to love fucking you like it meant something.”
His hand yanks the chain tight, dragging me closer.The chair jerks beneath me.
“You think this is about love?”he growls.“This is fucking war, Em.And you’re on the losing side of it.”
I don’t flinch.I lean in as if I want to taste blood.
“I was never on your side, Matteo,” I spit, voice cold as the grave he left me in.“Not after you left me bleeding as if I was nothing.”
The chain clinks as he steps back, letting it fall between us like a line drawn in blood.The smirk slips from his face, replaced with something sharper, deadly cold, and certain.
“We’re done playing,” he says, voice low and flat, reminiscent of a man used to giving orders before pulling the trigger.“Next time you open that smart little mouth of yours, I won’t just shut it up.I’ll drag a knife across your throat so slow you’ll feel every fucking inch of it.I’ll carve my name so deep into your fucking skin while you bleed out at my feet, so when you take your last breath, you’ll remember exactly who did this to you.”
His stare lingers… long enough to burn, long enough to brand, and then he turns, walking away like I’m already dead.Like I was never more than a loose end waiting to be tied off.
The door shuts behind him, a vault sealing tightly and locking away everything we will never say.
I swallow the fear down, force my spine straight, and let the anger rise to meet it.
Because if this is war… He better be ready to bleed for it.Because I’ll burn everything down before I let him win.
Chapter Three
Matteo
Iturnfromthedoorand lock my eyes on her through the one-way glass.
Emery.Or Emma, now.
That bullshit alias painted over her as a disguise that could never hide what she really is.A fake name and a hair color that doesn’t fucking suit her.It’s too soft, too quiet.As if she’s trying to erase the fire that used to burn beneath it.
But I see through all of it.
Head held high.
Spine straight.
Eyes sharp enough to cut clean through glass, and fuck, they almost do.
She’s still got that fire in her gaze, the same one that used to light me up from the inside out and burn everything else to ash.She’s sitting there as if she’s daring the world to break her.
Or daring me too.
