He holds me tighter, his chest rising against my cheek, his heart pounding like war drums. His fingers slide through my hair, slow, soothing. I breathe him in smoke, salt and rain.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispers. “You hear me?”
I nod. It isn’t enough.
He bends lower, his breath hot against my scalp, and presses another kiss there.
Slower. Firmer. A vow.
“You’re mine now.”
The tears sting, but I refuse to let them fall. I only want to stay here, in his arms, a little longer.
Eventually, he exhales and tips my chin up. “You should go,” he says softly. “Before someone sees.”
I nod again. The night outside feels colder than the sea.
Neither of us moves.
His thumb drifts across my bottom lip once before he lets go. “Go, little lamb.”
I turn into the wind, slipping into the dark.
Every inch of me still burns where he touched. Every piece of me already aches for him.
When it does, I’ll stand beside him.
Always.
Chapter 32
Matteo
Smoke coils toward the cracked dorm window, fading into the gray morning.
Silence fills the room, not peace, but ghosts. My own, warning me something is coming.
I stare at the ceiling, nicotine steadying the pulse in my throat. My father still hasn’t called. I thought maybe my mother would talk sense into him, or Grandfather’s words would.
The quiet beats like a war drum waiting for its first strike.
A knock then the door creaks open.
Milo walks in first, dragging a chair. “You’re awake.”
Marco follows, tossing an apple into the air. “And smoking. Brooding 101.”
Rosa steps in last, braid loose, tossing a packet of bandages on the desk. “For your knuckles. Heard you nearly broke Leo’s wrist.”
I don’t answer.
Marco drops onto the bed. “So? Did he call back?” I shake my head.
Milo leans forward. “That’s fucking great. What now, fearless triplet?”
“I don’t know.” Smoke leaves my mouth slow and thin. “Nothing feels right. I’m supposed to take Aoife home this weekend. Grandfather wants to meet her. But if her family gets even a hint?—”
“They’ll burn her alive,” Rosa cuts in.
