Chapter 29 #2
Nora’s gone for a few days. Her family called her home. The one night I don’t want to be alone, I am.
I switch on the desk lamp. The weak glow barely dents the dark. Shadows cling to the corners like they’re watching. My eyes trace the room, bed, desk, window. Nothing out of place.
Until I see it.
On my pillow.
A black envelope.
No name. No seal. Just there. Waiting.
I stare at it, fists tightening at my sides. Every instinct screams don’t touch it.
Curiosity whispers louder.
I cross the room, each step creaking like a warning. The floorboards groan beneath me.
I pick up the envelope, and inside one sheet of parchment. No threats. No demands.
Just five words scrawled in blood-red ink:
You don’t belong with them.
The letters seem to throb, alive, sinking beneath my skin. I crush the paper in my hand until it creases against my palm.
No one cares if I live or die, that much I’ve learned.
But someone cared enough to remind me I’ll never belong.
Maybe it’s a warning. Maybe it’s a promise.
Either way, it carves the truth deeper, I am alone.
Utterly. Violently. Alone.
I climb onto the bed and curl tight, the note still in my hand. My eyes burn as I stare at the door.
The room shifts at the edges, the dark crawling closer until it’s hard to tell what’s real.
Sleep drags me down, heavy and cold.
And even in dreams, the wolves wait for me.
The room twists around me. The bed melts away. The walls groan, bending like bones under strain.
The floor shifts beneath my palms no longer wood.
Stone.
Cold.
Wet.
Bleeding at the seams.
I blink and the world tilts.
The cliff waits.
Below, the sea thrashes black, wild, teeth bared. The wind screams, slicing across my skin. I’m barefoot, stripped to shame and skin, the family’s sins carved into my bones.
They’re waiting for me.
My father. Uncle Liam. Conor.
All smiling. Shouting.
“Jump.”
The word cracks like a whip. I shake my head, step back. The earth groans, fractures beneath me.
“Jump.” Louder this time. A command built into blood.
And then I see him.
Matteo.
Across the gap, half in shadow, half in light. Arms outstretched. Lips moving, soundless.
I run. Heart pounding, lungs tearing. But the more I move, the farther he drifts.
He fades, I slow.
The cliff trembles.
Breaks.
Splinters.
I scream his name, but only blood spills out.
They pull. Hard.
The ground tears from beneath me.
I claw at the stone, nails breaking, skin splitting.
Matteo’s shouting. Run.
Too late.
The cliff swallows me whole.
I fall.
Down into the black mouth of the sea.
Down into silence.
Down into nothing.
I jolt awake, the scream tearing from my throat but dying behind clenched teeth.
The dark is thicker than before, alive. The storm claws at the windows, rattling the glass. Air hums against my skin. Sweat slicks my body, cold and shaking.
A hand slams over my mouth.
Panic detonates.
I thrash, sound trapped in my chest, fists hitting something solid, someone solid.
No. No. No.
I fight like survival is the only instinct left.
Another hand seizes my wrists, pins me to the bed. My vision blurs with tears. I bite down hard, taste skin, salt and metal.
“Little lamb.”
The voice cuts through the storm. Low. Urgent. Familiar.
Matteo.
I freeze.
The fight drains out of me all at once. Air rushes in too fast, choking. The hand slips from my mouth.
He’s there kneeling beside me, eyes wide, chest heaving.
“It’s me,” he says, voice rough and broken. “I’m sorry. I had to see you.”
His hands cradle my face, heat bleeding into my skin.
The fear uncoils, slow and trembling. Not gone. Just quieter.
Because it’s him.
Because Matteo Messina is here.
And somehow, that means I might make it through another night.
My hands clutch his sweatshirt, fists curling in the fabric as I drag him down to me.
He doesn’t fight it.
He lowers himself, slow and careful, his weight pressing the mattress. Like he’s afraid he’ll break me if he breathes too hard.
He smells of rain and smoke. A scent that shouldn’t mean safety, but it does.
I press my face against his chest, inhale until the tremor in my lungs steadies. His heartbeat thunders beneath my cheek steady, alive, real.
His arms come around me, tight and shaking with control. The silence stretches, heavy but whole.
Outside, the storm rages. The lighthouse cuts the dark in slow, ghostly intervals. Pale light slips across the room, glinting over us like it’s trying to find what’s still human.
In that brief pulse of light and shadow, I swear our hearts sync one rhythm, desperate and quiet, fighting to keep us both alive.
His fingers trace the length of my spine, slow and steady, each pass anchoring me back to my body.
“You scared me,” I whisper. The words scrape past the tightness in my throat.
I move closer. He doesn’t stop me.
He holds still, letting me fit against him like I belong there.
When I lift my head, his eyes catch mine. dark, storm-heavy, and aching. The kind of look that could burn the world down if it meant keeping me warm.
Something in me splits open.
But this time, the break doesn’t hurt.
Not with him here.
“You’re not alone, little lamb,” he says, voice low and rough, more vow than comfort.
“I feel alone,” I whisper, the words shaking out of me before I can stop them.
“You won’t,” Matteo says. “Not when I’m here. You just have to let me be.”
He leans in until his forehead rests against mine. Our breaths tangle.
It isn’t a kiss.
It isn’t hunger.
It’s something raw, something that feels like faith.
I don’t know what we are. I don’t know if we will survive what is to come.
But tonight, I won’t stop fighting.
Tonight, I breathe.
And for the first time, I breathe in safety because it’s him.
The words scrape up my throat before I can stop them.
“Are you using me?”
Matteo stills. The air between us tightens. Then he laughs, a rough, broken sound that cuts more than it comforts.
“Little lamb,” he says, pulling back just enough to see me. His eyes catch the faint light, wild and wrecked. “If this were a game, don’t you think I’d play it better? I’d fuck you and walk away like they trained me to.”
Shame burns hot under my skin. I look away. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“You’re not a pawn,” he says, voice hard enough to shake the air between us. His hands cradle my face, forcing me to meet him. “You’re something I’d burn for.”
Tears slide free before I can stop them. He wipes them away, his thumbs rough, angry like he wants to fight the sadness out of me.
“I’m going home this weekend,” he says, his breath catching. “I’m telling my grandfather and my father.”
The words hit like a punch. My body goes rigid.
“What… what did you say?”
“This isn’t a game for me.” His lips brush mine light, unsteady. A ghost of a kiss that makes my pulse stumble.
“What if he doesn’t agree?” The question slips out small, terrified. “If he says no… will they tell my family? Will they kill me?”
Matteo pulls me closer until I can hear his heartbeat pounding through both of us.
“Shhh. One step at a time, little lamb. One step.”
“But—”
“No buts.” His voice drops, steady and low. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll handle it. You don’t carry this alone.”
I press my face to his chest, gripping his sweatshirt until my knuckles ache. Like if I hold hard enough, the world won’t find me.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, quiet and sure. “But I’m with you now.” He kisses the top of my head, wordless, final. “I’ll find a way to keep you,” he murmurs, so soft I almost miss it.
But I feel it.
In his heartbeat.
In the storm clawing at the windows, trying to reach us.
In the way he holds me, like he’ll set the world on fire before he lets go.
And for the first time, I believe him.