I don’t. I can’t.
But he’s already moving. I stand too fast, and the knife slips from under the pillow, clattering to the floor between us.
Silence swallows the air.
Matteo bends, picks up the knife. His eyes lock on the parchment that had been pinned to the pillow, his jaw tightens, fingers curl around the blade.
He doesn’t ask who. He doesn’t need to, he already knows. His voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it. “When did you find it?”
I lick my lips, dry as dust. “When I came in.”
“Did anyone see you come in?”
“No one,” I whisper. “I made sure.”
He nods once, then turns away and paces the room like he’s calculating murder in careful, measured breaths. I watch him, pulse quickening.
“I didn’t tell you right away because…” My throat tightens. “Because I knew what you’d do.”
“And what do you think I’ll do, Aoife?” he snaps, spinning back. His voice cuts through the stillness like steel.
“I’m not worth?—”
Matteo stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, stopping me cold.
I can’t speak. I feel like a child again, silent and terrified and wanting to disappear.
He drags a hand down his face, breathing heavier each time. Then he steps closer, his heat cutting through the cold in me.
“You’re wrong, little lamb,” he whispers. “You are worth it.” His forehead touches mine, and for the first time since I walked back into Blackstone, I feel air reach my lungs. “What happenedto no lies? You need to trust me, or I go into this fight blind.” The words come out harsher than I mean.
I don’t argue; I nod, then pull away. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“Get your bag.”
I nod again, gather the rest of my things in silence—the kind that comes from knowing someone wants me dead. I already knew that. I just didn’t think it would happen here.
But I’m not alone.
Not anymore.
Back in Matteo’s dorm,I’ve been sitting on the bed, as he’s still on the phone, his voice clipped, sharp, as he paces the room with a fury he’s trying to leash.
“She was alone?” His grandfather's voice crackles through the speaker. I can’t hear it clearly, but I can feel it. Feel how Matteo flinches.
“Leo pulled the three of us,” Matteo answers. “Rosa was supposed to be with her.”
I drop my eyes. I don’t want to look up, I don't want to see him angry. Not at Rosa, not because of me. The call seems to be going on for a while, before Matteo ends it, there’s a moment of silence.
He turns toward me, the question hitting me before he even opens his mouth. “Why were you alone?”
I brace. “Rosa’s been… a bit off,” I say, softer than I mean to. “She didn’t say anything. Just left. I didn’t ask why. It doesn’t matter,” I add before he can speak again.
“It does matter,” Matteo snaps. He’s not shouting, but it cuts deeper. “You could’ve been?—”
“I wasn’t,” I say sharply. “I’m here. I’m breathing. So don’t make it worse by blaming Rosa.”
I see the way he looks at me, like he wants to argue, he wants to tear apart the walls and rebuild the world safer just for me. But he doesn’t.
