FIFTEEN
Heat pressed against me like a suffocating blanket, dragging me from the depths of a restless sleep.
I stirred. My eyes cracked open, and the brightness of the day hit me like a slap.
Sunshine streamed through the curtains, filling the room with an oppressive glow.
My mouth was dry, and a dull ache throbbed at the back of my head.
Reaching blindly for my phone, I squinted at the screen, the glare sharp enough to make my skull splinter.
Ten minutes – that was how much time I had to get ready.
I lurched upright, panic blooming hot and fast. The motion teased the tender parts of my body, and it split the veil between now and then.
Obsidian.
Darkness. Leather. The sound of my own breath caught in the back of my throat.
Damn, his hands—
So rough, but so gentle all at once.
The pressure of his fingers curling around my throat, the blunt heat of the plug still inside me…
My body had burned when it swallowed him. Sure, he’d tried stopping it; he’d tried walking away.
There were clauses that allowed touching – despite there still being boundaries, consent, protection for both of us. But after last night, when nothing happened even though we’d had sex, those became just letters on paper.
I knew I’d crossed a line no sub ever should. And he would retaliate.
My throat tightened, the image of us resurfacing like the sweetest memory.
Because it wasn’t just that I’d taken what I wasn’t allowed – it was that he’d let me break the rule.
I flung my legs over the edge of the bed, dragging my fingers down my face as though I could rub the memory away – if only for a single breath.
The shower was sobering. I scrubbed – harder than necessary – at the remnants of Scarlett, of him. If I’d left his scent on my skin, I’d lose my mind by the end of the day.
My muscles ached, as if they didn’t belong to me; as though someone had rearranged me in the dark.
My thoughts refused to stop their incessant sprint, replaying every second in flashes that left that familiar, delicious hunger behind.
I grabbed my jacket and car keys, about to bolt out of the flat when my phone suddenly rang. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat, as I fumbled with the mobile while locking the door on my way out, until my eyes hooked onto the name on the screen.
Matteo.
My oldest brother.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the green button as my strides slowed towards the garage.
He was the oldest of us. And when our dad died, he took up the mantle. He wasn’t the kind of person you ignored. Not unless you wanted him showing up at your door.
Taking a steadying breath, I answered.
‘Hey, Matty.’
‘Hey, Birdie.’ His warm, booming voice came through the line, a mix of cheer and exasperation.
The nickname was given to me by our Dad. He always told me I was a loud, chirpy, bouncy little girl – like a little sparrow. When he died, I’d tattooed the bird on my wrist – so I’d always be reminded of him whenever I looked at it.
‘What’s going on? I’ve been trying to call you all week!’ Matteo ground out.
‘I’ve been busy,’ I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. ‘New job.’
‘You couldn’t spare five damn minutes to check in, huh? What, you’re some hotshot now? Too fancy for your big brother?’ The familiar blend of sarcasm and Italian exasperation in his voice was like a caffeine shot straight to the heart.
‘I’ve just had a lot going on.’
I sighed.
There was a pause on the other end – and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. ‘Paula, is everything okay?’
I forced the knot in my throat to untangle, my grip tightening on the phone. ‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’
Nothing was ever fine, but I also knew nothing ever would be.
The silence that followed squeezed like a noose around my neck.
Matteo’s voice was softer this time, weighted with something that made my stomach twist. ‘Paula, I need you to listen to what I have to say. Do not freak out.’
I froze, my heart already hammering in my chest as I nestled in the driver’s seat and shut the door to my car – locking it instinctively. ‘What is it?’
He let out a long, heavy exhale, the sound crackling over the line. ‘Travis is out, Paula.’
A sharp breath stuck halfway through my throat, and the world tilted slightly, the edges of my vision blurring.
‘What?’
‘He was released last month,’ Matteo continued, his voice tight with frustration. ‘Good behaviour, apparently. They couldn’t pin the murders on him – not enough evidence. His lawyer produced some last-minute alibi, said he was with someone else during the time of the deal.’
I clenched the phone so hard it creaked, bile rising in my throat. I remembered that day all too well. He had been with someone. Me – for fifteen agonising minutes. Just long enough for his hands to bruise me as he flung around a so-called betrayal – because I’d said I was leaving him.
I’d reported him after that, driven by fear and defiance, hoping the system would finally catch up to him. But it hadn’t. Not then, and not now.
Matteo’s voice cut through my spiral. ‘The domestic violence charge? He paid bail. He’s out, Birdie. He’s walking free.’
The dread ringing in my ears grew louder, a relentless hum that drowned out everything else. My skin felt cold, my limbs heavy. Suddenly, last night clicked into focus – the lingering sense that someone had been watching me.
Oh God, I thought. Did he see me with Ghost last night? Is he following me to work?
I rubbed my palms over my thighs and started the damn breathing exercises every therapist had ever recommended.
‘Birdie,’ Matteo said, his tone more urgent now. ‘You need to come home. Come here. Me and the boys, we’ll protect you.’ I heard a few gruff approvals in the background. They were all listening to the conversation.
‘Matteo, I can’t,’ I whispered, my voice cracking. ‘You know I can’t.’
‘Why the fuck not?’ he snapped, his frustration boiling over.
‘Because the government didn’t protect me. The cops didn’t protect me. The system is fucking flawed! I can’t go back where he can find me and do it all over again! Even make it worse.’ The last part came out on a breath; a heart-wrenching truth that was as real as the tears now welling in my eyes.
‘We’re here! You need your family now—’
‘I need to protect myself,’ I cut in, harsher than I meant to. ‘I won’t drag you into this. You didn’t make the mistake – I did.’
I softened my tone, swallowing the guilt. ‘Look, I know you guys love me. I know you want to protect me. But it has to stop somewhere. Travis… This thing. I’m hoping that when he doesn’t find me, he’ll let it go. Maybe even move on. Fixate on someone else.’
There was a beat of loaded silence on the other end. My eyes darted ahead of the car just as I turned the engine on. Human psyche was a damned thing – because now I could suddenly see him everywhere. He was behind a pillar, at the exit, a part of his jacket fluttering around the corner.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
‘So, what’s your plan, huh?’ Matteo demanded, his anger tinged with worry – and helplessness.
My heart bled for him. Because I knew what it was doing to him – the fact that he wasn’t able to protect me.
He hadn’t been able to save our father either.
It had nearly destroyed him. And he was powerless now, too.
But this was my life. I had to hold the reins to it.
‘What are you going to do?’
I stared at the floor, my mind racing. Travis had always been two steps ahead, a predator who thrived on control and manipulation. The only way to stop him was to be smarter, faster – to find a way to protect myself that didn’t rely on a broken system or anyone else.
‘I’ll figure it out,’ I said quietly, though the words felt hollow.
‘Birdie,’ Matteo muttered, a dark decision pulsing in the notes. ‘The boys and I… we’re trying to find him. And when we do—’
‘Don’t,’ I cut him off, my voice firmer now. ‘You are not.’
More silence. Then, reluctantly, he said, ‘If you feel the tiniest bit left-field… Or if you need anything at all – anything – you call me. Got it?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I said softly.
My former Marine brother was not going to let this go. I was sure of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he moved here just to keep an eye on me.
He rattled off about Mum being the same old, doing well, and nagging about grandchildren – or the lack thereof – like a proper Italian woman of her age who eagerly expected one of us to make a Nonna out of her. And the call went dead.
I sat there for a long moment, the phone still clutched in my hand. The dread had settled deep in my bones – but beneath it, something else flared. Determination.
I wasn’t the same woman Travis had controlled all those years ago. I wouldn’t be his victim again.
I glanced at the mirror. Then pushed back the sleeve over my wrist and focused on it. The sparrow stared back at me – Dad’s smile. Freedom. Flight.
The system wouldn’t be able to save me, so I would find another way.
No matter what it fucking took.
I called my uncle right after, told him what happened. He assured me he’d call his friends to find out if Travis had entered the country. After a short push-and-pull of insisting I come to live with his family, he relented. I couldn’t live under constant scrutiny or pity.
I was still young. I needed to get my life in order before I completely lost the last semblance of sanity.
The taste of her still clung to my tongue hours later.
Obsidian was supposed to drain me, cauterise the rot before it spread.
But I’d walked out of that place with her embedded in me like a fever – something wild and unspent. Along with the hunger that was beginning to border on desperation.
Now here I was, in daylight – back to reality. No mask, no shadows, just bleach, plastic trays, and the stench of Ezio’s boiled vegetables.
The hunger didn’t belong here. But it followed me anyway, soaked into my skin like sweat.