He smells of rain and smoke. A scent that shouldn’t mean safety, but it does.
I press my face against his chest, inhale until the tremor in my lungs steadies. His heartbeat thunders beneath my cheek steady, alive, real.
His arms come around me, tight and shaking with control. The silence stretches, heavy but whole.
Outside, the storm rages. The lighthouse cuts the dark in slow, ghostly intervals. Pale light slips across the room, glinting over us like it’s trying to find what’s still human.
In that brief pulse of light and shadow, I swear our hearts sync one rhythm, desperate and quiet, fighting to keep us both alive.
His fingers trace the length of my spine, slow and steady, each pass anchoring me back to my body.
“You scared me,” I whisper. The words scrape past the tightness in my throat.
I move closer. He doesn’t stop me.
He holds still, letting me fit against him like I belong there.
When I lift my head, his eyes catch mine. dark, storm-heavy, and aching. The kind of look that could burn the world down if it meant keeping me warm.
Something in me splits open.
But this time, the break doesn’t hurt.
Not with him here.
“You’re not alone, little lamb,” he says, voice low and rough, more vow than comfort.
“I feel alone,” I whisper, the words shaking out of me before I can stop them.
“You won’t,” Matteo says. “Not when I’m here. You just have to let me be.”
He leans in until his forehead rests against mine. Our breaths tangle.
It isn’t a kiss.
It isn’t hunger.
It’s something raw, something that feels like faith.
I don’t know what we are. I don’t know if we will survive what is to come.
But tonight, I won’t stop fighting.
Tonight, I breathe.
And for the first time, I breathe in safety because it’s him.
The words scrape up my throat before I can stop them.
“Are you using me?”
Matteo stills. The air between us tightens. Then he laughs, a rough, broken sound that cuts more than it comforts.
“Little lamb,” he says, pulling back just enough to see me. His eyes catch the faint light, wild and wrecked. “If this were a game, don’t you think I’d play it better? I’d fuck you and walk away like they trained me to.”
Shame burns hot under my skin. I look away. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“You’re not a pawn,” he says, voice hard enough to shake the air between us. His hands cradle my face, forcing me to meet him. “You’re something I’d burn for.”
