Hands grab Matteo, pulling him back, and he fights it for a second before letting go and I slide down the wall gasping for air.
Dante is there, and Luca, both of them holding Matteo back, and Rafael is crouched beside me checking for damage.
"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.
I nod even though I'm not okay, even though my ribs are screaming and my face is on fire and I can barely breathe.
Matteo is breathing hard, staring at me with pure hatred.
"Get him out of here," he says to Rafael. "Get him out of my house before I finish this."
"Matteo—" I start.
"I will never forgive you for this." His voice is cold and final. "Do you understand me? Never. You destroyed everything between us. Everything we built. Every year of friendship and trust and brotherhood. All of it gone because you couldn't control yourself around my sister."
The words land like knives.
"I'm sorry," I say, and my voice is barely a whisper.
"Your apology means nothing to me." He shakes off Dante and Luca and stands there with his fists clenched at his sides. "You're dead to me, Bianchi. You don't exist. And if you ever come near Isabella again, if you ever try to contact her or find her or see her, I will kill you myself. That's not a threat. That's a promise."
"Matteo, please?—"
"Get out."
Rafael helps me up and I lean on him because standing without support seems ambitious right now.
"Where is she?" I ask one more time, desperate. "Just tell me where she is. That's all I need. Just that one thing."
"No." Matteo's voice is ice. "She's gone and she's staying gone. You’re never seeing her again. That's how this ends."
Rafael guides me toward the door and I let him because there's nothing left to say, nothing left to do except leave.
At the door I stop and look back.
Matteo is standing in the middle of his study with blood on his knuckles and rage in his eyes and I know with absolute certainty that I just lost him.
Lost my best friend.
Lost my boss.
Lost everything except the memory of Isabella and the knowledge that I love her and she's somewhere I can't reach.
"I'm sorry," I say one more time.
He turns his back on me.
Rafael pulls me out into the hallway and closes the door. The sound of it closing feels like the end of everything.
"Come on," he says quietly. "Let's get you out of here before he changes his mind about letting you leave alive."
We walk through the house and I'm leaving blood on the floor, drops of it marking my path, and when we get outside the air is cold, clear and painful in my lungs.
Rafael helps me to my car.
"Where will you go?" he asks.
"I don't know." I lean against the car and try to catch my breath. "Anywhere. It doesn't matter."
