7. The Aftermath
Chapter seven
The Aftermath
Matteo
T he silence in the room is unbearable. It’s a heavy, oppressive thing, wrapping around me like a vice. Amelia lies in the bed, her back turned to me, her shoulders trembling with the force of her sobs. I want to reach for her, to hold her, to tell her that we’ll get through this, but the words feel hollow.
How can I promise her anything when I couldn’t even protect our child? I run a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the room. The smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, a cruel reminder of everything that’s been lost. My chest aches, a deep, gnawing pain that I can’t escape. I’ve faced enemies who would slit my throat without hesitation, stood in the crosshairs of men who wanted me dead. None of it compares to this.
To the sight of Amelia’s tears. To the emptiness that now hangs between us. Her voice cuts through the stillness, quiet and raw. “Why didn’t you protect us?”
The accusation hits harder than any bullet. I stop mid-step, turning to face her. She’s sitting up now, her eyes swollen and red, but blazing with anger.
“I tried,” I say, my voice low, steady. But even I hear the inadequacy of the words.
“Trying wasn’t enough,” she snaps, her voice breaking. “I lost my child, Matteo. Our child. And you—you’re supposed to be this powerful man, this untouchable force. But you couldn’t save us.”
Her words slice through me, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I move toward her, kneeling by the side of the bed.
“Amelia. I would have done anything to protect you. To protect our baby. But I failed. And I’ll carry that failure for the rest of my life.”
She looks at me, her anger faltering as tears spill down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to move forward,” she whispers.
Neither do I. I hover close, unable to leave her side, even when she pushes me away. The fire in her is still there, but it’s dimmed, flickering like a candle in the wind. I’ve never felt so helpless, so powerless. But I won’t let her fall apart. I just sit when she finally speaks to me without anger or resentment.
“I dreamed of holding him or her,” she says quietly, staring out the window. “Of what it might have looked like. Of whom it might have been.”
Her words pierce me, and I move to sit beside her, my hand hesitating before resting on hers. “I dreamed of that too. Of teaching it to fight, to stand strong in this world. Of keeping him or her safe.”
She turns to me, her eyes searching mine. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you.”
The words hurt, but I nod. “I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make this right.”
Tears swell in her eyes again, and this time, when I pull her into my arms, she doesn’t resist. The grief doesn’t go away, but something shifts between us in those quiet moments. The walls we’ve built crumble, leaving us raw and exposed. I see her pain, her strength, her resilience, and I realize that I’ve never wanted anything more than to protect her. Not because she’s mine, but because she’s Amelia. Fierce, fiery, and utterly irreplaceable. And as I hold her close, I vow that I’ll never fail her again.
Amelia rests her head against my chest, her breathing uneven, and I can feel the weight of her grief in every tremor of her body. Her tears have dried for now, but I know the storm is far from over. When the first rays of sunlight break through the window, she finally shifts, pulling away slightly. Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s something other than hatred there. Vulnerability.
“Why are you still here?” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
“Because I can’t leave you. Not ever. You don’t have to forgive me, Amelia. But don’t push me away. Not now.”
Her gaze searches mine, and I let her see everything—the guilt, the pain, the desperate need to protect her from a world that seems determined to hurt us both.
She looks down, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. “It’s not that simple, Matteo.”
“Nothing about us is simple. But I’m not going anywhere.”
One evening, I find her in the garden. The air is cool, the sky painted with the soft hues of twilight. She’s sitting on the stone bench, her arms wrapped around herself, and she looks so small, so fragile, that it makes my chest tighten.
“Amelia,” I say softly, approaching her.
She doesn’t turn, but she doesn’t tell me to leave, either. I take that as an invitation and sit beside her, leaving enough space so she doesn’t feel trapped.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says after a long silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “About what happens next.”
“What do you mean?”
She takes a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “This... life. Us. Everything. It feels like a storm I can’t escape.”
“Whatever comes next, I’m here.” I say firmly.
She finally turns to me, her eyes shimmering with un-shed tears. “How can you be so sure?.”
My hand moves before I can stop it, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because you’re worth it, Amelia.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Then, to my surprise, she leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” she murmurs, but there’s no venom in her words, only exhaustion.
“You don’t have to. I’ll prove it to you, every day, for the rest of our lives.” I reply, wrapping an arm around her.
The vulnerability of the moment is almost unbearable, but I hold onto it like a lifeline. For the first time since the attack, there’s a sliver of hope, a fragile connection that feels more real than anything else. I don’t know what the future holds, but as I sit there with Amelia in my arms, I vow to protect her at any cost. Because no matter what happens, she’s mine. And I’ll never let anything hurt her again. She stays silent, her breathing soft against my shoulder, but I feel the weight of her grief as if it were my own. It wraps around us, heavy and suffocating, a cruel reminder of what we’ve lost. My grip tightens on her, and she doesn’t pull away. That alone feels like a small victory.
But it’s not enough. It will never be enough. I tilt my head, pressing my lips to her hair, inhaling the scent of her—floral and faintly sweet, a contradiction to the storm raging within her. The need to protect her is visceral, a gnawing ache that threatens to consume me. I can’t lose her too.
“I hate this, I hate feeling like this.” she whispers, her voice breaking.
I shift, pulling her closer until her body flushes against mine. “I know.”
Her shoulders shake, and I realize she’s crying again. I grit my teeth, the helplessness cutting me to the core. For a man who’s built his life on power, on control, this vulnerability is a bitter pill to swallow.
“I should hate you. Sometimes I do. But then... then you do this. You make me feel like I can’t escape you.” she says, her voice muffled against my chest.
“You can’t. You’re mine, Amelia. You’ve always been mine, and I’ll burn the world to ashes before I let anything take you from me.”
She stiffens, her hands fisting my shirt. “You can’t fix this, Matteo. You can’t fix me.”
“I don’t want to fix you. I want you as you are. Broken pieces and all. You don’t have to be strong for me. Just be here.”
I say, my hands framing her face so she’s forced to look at me. Her tear-streaked cheeks, her red-rimmed eyes—they make my chest tighten, but there’s something else there too. Something defiant, unbroken. Her gaze searches mine, and for a moment, it’s as if the world holds its breath. Then she surges forward, her lips crashing against mine. It’s not soft or gentle—it’s desperate, filled with pain and anger and something neither of us can name. I respond instantly, my hands tangling in her hair as I pull her closer, as if I can imprint myself on her soul.
The kiss is wild, unrestrained, a battle for dominance that neither of us wants to win. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, her forehead resting against mine.
I counter, my grip tightening on her waist. “You’re the only thing that matters now, Amelia. You and me. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs—I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away. But she doesn’t pull out of my arms.
As the night goes on and she lays beside me for the first time in a while, her back to my chest, I watch her in the dim light. She’s fragile now, like glass on the edge of shattering, but there’s strength in her too. A strength that calls to me, that fuels my obsession. The thought of her slipping through my fingers, of someone else hurting her, drives a cold fury through me. Luca. The name burns like poison in my veins.
He’s taken too much, and I’ll make him pay for it a hundredfold. But tonight isn’t about him. Tonight, it’s about her. About us. I press a kiss to the back of her neck, letting my lips linger there. She stirs, but she doesn’t pull away, and I allow myself a sliver of hope. She’s mine. In her grief, in her anger, in her brokenness, she’s mine. And I’ll stop at nothing to make sure she stays that way. She shifts slightly in my arms, her body tense against mine. Even in the quiet, her unease radiates off her in waves. She’s trying to hold herself together, trying to stay distant, but I can feel her slipping—caught in the same dark current that’s drowning me.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible.
“Doing what?” I ask, my lips brushing the curve of her shoulder.
“Making me feel like this. Like I hate you and need you at the same time.” she whispers, her breath hitching.
I trail my fingers along her arm, slow and deliberate, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. “You think I don’t feel the same, Amelia? You drive me mad—every look, every word, every defiance.”
She turns her face close to mine, her eyes blazing with anger and something more dangerous, like desire. “You can’t keep trying to control me.”
I smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “Can’t I?”
Her hand lashes out, shoving me back, but I catch her wrist, pulling her against me. The movement is sharp, almost violent, and her gasp cuts through the air like a blade.
“Stop it,” she snaps, her voice shaking.
“I don’t have to. You’re already mine, Amelia. No matter how much you fight it.”
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she’ll push me away again. But instead, she leans in, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s more war than surrender. I meet her fire with my own, my hand tangling in her hair as I press her against the mattress. The kiss deepens, turning rough and desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues that leave us both breathless. Her nails rake down my back, and the sting only fuels the heat between us.
She bites my bottom lip, hard enough to draw a hiss from me, I pull back just enough to see the defiance burning in her eyes.
“You don’t scare me,” she says, her voice low and daring.
I chuckle darkly, my hand sliding beneath the fabric of her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin. “Maybe you should be.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she arches into my touch, her body responding even as her mind tries to resist.
“Admit it,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear. “You hate how much you want me.”
Her fingers grip my shoulders, and for a moment, I think she’ll deny it. But then she pulls me closer, her voice barely a whisper. “I hate you.”
The words are a lie, and we both know it. She grips my shirt even tighter; I glance at her and she throws it over my head, her fingers trailing the curves of my abs. I give her a small smirk as I pop the buttons on her shirt, ripping it off her body in one go.
She doesn’t waste any time before undoing the button on my pants and pushes them off without hesitation. She plays with the elastic on my boxers and pushes them past my ankles. I give her a dark smirk as I pull off her pants and underwear, taking my time and rubbing my thumbs on her hips and inner thighs.
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t. My treasure. Your body is showing me otherwise.”
I chuckle darkly as I kiss her neck softly, making her shiver as I see how her body is responding to me.
I keep rubbing circles on her thighs getting my fingers closer to her wet plump pussy. My desire is growing with every second. My need making it hard to breathe. I know she just went through a major trauma, but this is something that cannot wait. She clearly wants it just as much as I do but getting her to accept it will be the hardest part. I spread her legs slowly and kiss her deeply so she can’t resist me. I make out with her and line my hard penis up to the entrance of her pussy. I take a deep breath and push it inside her. God, I love the way she feels. Amelia flinches a bit but it was fleeting. It was possibly just the sudden shock of my cock inside her. I thrust in and out of her a few times and notice that she barely is moving and not moaning all that much.
I abruptly stop and she puts her hand on my chest and pushes. It isn’t rough, it isn’t out of hate. It is something else. I let Amelia push me back and my dick falls out of her. I don’t know what is happening. It is surprising to me and I am left disarmed. She gets off of the bed and guides me to take a seat.
She slowly draws closer and puts her hands on my shoulders, pulling herself up. So carefully and slowly, she then lowers herself down on top of my dick which slips into her soft, soaking wet pussy. I am all the way inside of her, she gasps and then wraps her arms around me. I can feel her warm plump breasts pressing against my chest. I grab a hold of her, wrapping my arms around her, making the distance around us inexistant. Amelia whispers in my ear, “Help me.” I understand right away what she was meaning.
I tighten my hands around her waist and lift her up until only half of my shaft is still in her. I let her go and she falls back down taking all my 12 inches again. She gasps and moans loudly. I need no further instructions. I continue to lift her up, releasing her and she continues moaning louder and louder. Amelia begins to get wetter and tighter as she starts grinding on me all the way up and down while I fuck her. All of a sudden, she lets a scream of ecstasy as she cums hard, harder than I ever remember her doing before. I cannot contain myself.
The feeling is too great, and I send my load deep inside of her throbbing pussy. I let her go but she remains sitting on top of my cock, cum oozing out from around it. She just sits there, holding me tightly. After some time, I take her to lay down and then lie beside her and just hold her. We lay tangled together in the darkness, the air still heavy with the remnants of our passion. Her breathing is uneven, her body trembling beneath mine, but she doesn’t push me away. For a moment, there’s silence, broken only by the faint hum of the night outside. Then she speaks, her voice soft but resolute.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she says.
“I don’t need your forgiveness; I just need you.” I reply, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a flicker of something I can’t quite place—fear, anger, maybe even longing. “You’re dangerous, Matteo,” she whispers.
“So are you, Amelia and that’s why we’re perfect together.” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She doesn’t respond, but as her eyes flutter shut, I know the battle between us is far from over. In the dark, with her still in my arms, I allow myself a rare moment of peace. She may fight me, hate me, even try to escape me—but she’ll never succeed.
Because no matter what it takes, she’s mine. Forever.