“In a minute,” Matteo says, still looking at me like he’s trying to memorize relief. His thumb skims the corner of my eye, catching a tear I missed. “You okay, Kitty Cat?”
I should snap at the name. I don’t. I take his wrist and press my mouth to the heel of his hand in a thank you I can’t speak yet. Then I lift my chin. “Don’t ever make me pray for you again,” I grumble.
“Then you’ll just have to always keep me where you can see me.”
“Fine,” I mutter, and step back, because if I don’t, I’ll forget we have company.
Leo sighs, a long-suffering sound. “We really should move.”
“For once…” I nod at Leo, then wipe my face with both palms and find my spine. “We agree.”
I grab my duffel which already sits packed by the door. Leo must have done it while we were arguing. For such a big man, he moves like a ghost. Matteo reaches for my bag, but I don’t let him take the weight. We kill the lights, pocket the key, and leave Room 12 to whatever endings it has left. The night outside is damp and tastes like the beginning of something I can’t name yet. The only thing I know is that it requires both of us, alive, together.
Matteo winces every time he glances at his phone. I sneak a peek and bite my lip at the onslaught of furious messages from his family. I wedge myself in the backseat of the car beside him, chin on his shoulder while Leo threads us through Belfast’s wet, gray streets. Matteo’s thumbs fly over his phone. The screen is a war zone of family group chats lighting up in rapid fire.
“Ready?” he asks, already wincing.
“As I’ll ever be,” I murmur.
He angles the screen in my direction so I can read it better.
Papà: MATTEO MARCO ROSSI. Explain to me why I just buried you in my head for twelve hours. Do you understand what this has done to your mother? To me? Where are you? No, don’t answer. Share. Your. Location. If this is a stunt, it ends tonight. If it wasn’t, you report to me the second you reach the jet. We will discuss consequences.
Alessandro: You absolute bastard. Relief level: obscene. Rage level: higher. I called off a war for you and then called it back on and then off again. Tell me you’re in one piece. Tell me you’re with Leo. Also tell me where the hell you are before I fucking grow wings.
Serena: I blacked out for three minutes and woke up angrier. You’re ALIVE??? You text Ale and not ME??? I already ordered memorial cupcakes with your face on them. Who’s paying for that, dummy? I’m hugging you and then I’m slapping you. Probably in that order. Are you safe? Is she safe? (Yes, I mean her. I know there’s a her. Don’t make me pry.)
Bella: I cried in public, you menace. Never forgiving you. Also do you need a care package or a shovel?
Papà: Stop ignoring me. Location. Now.
Matteo exhales, the sound half laugh, half penance. “They’re mad.”
“They love you,” I whisper, softer than I mean to, nudging his ribs. A part of me wishes anyone would ever be that angry about my death. “Text them back before your father relocates Belfast one building at a time.”
He fires off replies and squeezes my knee under the jacket like a secret apology.
Leo catches my eye in the rearview. “They done yelling at him yet?”
“Not even close.” And for the first time all night, it almost feels okay.
CHAPTER 42
WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS
Matteo
Leo parks on the edge of the private hangars where the lights make slick halos on the wet tarmac. The Gemini jet idles with its belly open, my family’s shadows pacing under the wing. I can make out Ale with Alessia at his side, Serena tucked under Antonio’s arm, and Bella shoulder to shoulder with Raf. It’s like walking up to a firing squad…
Cat falls into step beside me, hood up, and hands jammed into her pockets. I catch her sleeve before we hit the pool of light.
“Kitty Cat, wait.”
Her chin lifts, blue eyes sharp. “If you say stay in the car?—”
“Donal was there.”
The three words land like a blade balanced on glass. I’d been trying and failing to tell her the whole ride over here. She goes very still. “At the mill?”
