We follow him into the grand hall. The room is full, our extended family packed like wolves in a den. Camilla and Luca. The twins. Uncles from Hollow Coast. Even Anna stands near the back, hands clenched, but she smiles the moment Nico wraps his arms around her.
My mother’s by the hearth. She gasps when she sees Aoife.
My father sits in the high-backed chair. His fists are on the armrests. Jaw locked.
“We saw the footage,” he says. “We saw what they did. That was an ambush.”
“They fired the first bullet,” Nico adds, stepping beside me.
My gaze seeks my mother straightaway. I need her to believe us, that we never shot first. She nods, and I look back over at Father and Grandfather.
“That church,” Grandfather says, stepping forward. “They’ve signed their death warrant.”
“You are not at school until this is finished. We don’t know when they will attack. They already did once at school. I won't let it happen again,” Father tells us, and the three of us nod.
I take Aoife’s hand as it begins shaking, to let her know she’s not alone; she's in a house now, where everyone will protect her.
“They will come, and we will be ready.” I’m the only one talking now, and everyone in the room nods.
Chapter 48
Aoife
The door clicks shut behind us as we enter Matteo’s bedroom.
Matteo doesn’t speak, he just walks straight into the bathroom, and I hear the water turn on. Steam curls around the doorframe seconds later.
“You need a bath,” he says from the doorway, voice low, gentle like silk, but weighted. I stand frozen in the middle of his room, my fingers clenched around the hem of my top. It takes everything in me not to shatter again.
He returns, takes my hand and leads me wordlessly.
He’s being so gentle with me, and it’s making me want to break down even more, because of the love he’s showing me.
I step into the bathroom and see the tub filling, steam billowing up in thick clouds, rose-scented oil already floating on the surface. A towel rests on the edge. A single candle flickers on the basin.
Matteo kneels in front of me. He doesn’t touch me, he just looks up, those storm-dark eyes searching every inch of me. “Let me help.”
And when I nod, he’s careful. Reverent. He lifts the hem of my shirt, inch by inch, revealing the bruises like secrets whispered in the dark. His fingers skim my skin but never linger. Not until I’m bare, and he sees the full damage my own family did to me. Then his jaw tightens.
“I’m going to kill them.” The calm he was holding is replaced by rage.
Something dark flashes in his eyes. He stands and peels off his own clothes without a word, stepping into the bath first before helping me in, letting my body rest against his chest, between his legs. The water laps at our skin. His arms wrap around me slowly, securely.
I finally cry.
Not in gasps or sobs. It’s quieter than that. Just water slipping from my eyes like something my body can’t hold anymore. Matteo doesn’t hush me. Doesn’t speak. His hand strokes my arm, over and over again.
“I thought I’d never make it out,” I whisper.
“You did.”
“I thought they were going to kill me.”
“They didn’t.” I shift in the water until I can see his face. “Why aren’t you asking me to explain it all?”
“Because I saw your face when I found you. That told me everything I needed to know.”
His fingers brush over my shoulder, gently tracing the blooming marks. “I hate that I wasn’t there.”
