Chapter 35 #2
Two of my cousins linger nearby, backs straight, hands itching near their belts like they expect things to go south. One of them, Fergus rolls his shoulders slowly, cracking his knuckles. The other, Eoin, is chewing gum like he wants it to be someone’s throat.
But it’s Uncle Liam who vibrates with threat.
His nostrils flare at Matteo’s family. The way his tongue runs over the inside of his cheek, like he’s tasting the bitterness already. The way he looks at Matteo, then Matteo’s father, then finally me, and his whole body tightens.
Not a word yet. Not a greeting.
Only silence. The kind that tastes like gunpowder and legacy and too many bodies buried under both.
The air isn’t just heavy.
It’s choking.
And I realize, this isn’t a conversation.
This is a reckoning.
“Didn’t think you’d bring your whole circus,” Liam sneers. “But I suppose the Italians always need backup.”
Marco takes a step forward, but Matteo’s father raises a hand. Silence.
“My son has found his girl,” Matteo’s father calls to my father. “And we’re here to discuss what that means.”
My breath leaves me.
Matteo turns to me, door open, one hand held out.
“Come on, little lamb.” I take his hand and step out of the car and the world changes.
Eyes snap to me. Disgust. Shock. Rage. All wrapped in silence.
Matteo’s calm, terrifyingly calm, dressed in black from his coat to his boots.
Matteo doesn’t let go of my hand. Not when we walk toward my family, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t show fear. Not when Conor’s eyes burn into me like betrayal. Not when Uncle Liam takes a step forward before someone stops him.
We walk to the center of the courtyard. Cold air. No movement. No guns, but the threat drips from the stone.
“We’re not here to ask permission,” Matteo’s father says. “We’re here to make it clear. If she’s harmed, if she’s taken, if you try to play fucking god with her life—”
My father interrupts. “This is our family matter.”
“No,” Matteo’s grandfather cuts in, voice like thunder behind velvet. “She’s not just your blood anymore. The second you put her life on the line, she became ours too.”
The stillness is terrifying.
The O’Briens, my family, don't speak. Not yet. My father watches me like I’m something rotting at his feet. Uncle Liam’s jaw twitches. Conor… won’t meet my eyes
I swallow, but I don’t look away.
I feel Matteo’s fingers tighten slightly.
“She’s engaged,” my father finally says.
“Not anymore,” Matteo’s father replies. “You’ll call it off. Now.”
My father laughs. It’s humorless. Dangerous. “You think you can just come into my house and—”
“Your house?” Matteo’s grandfather steps forward. “You forget whose ancestors built these fucking walls, O’Brien. You’ve had your run on the south side for long enough. You think we didn’t know what you were planning?”
I freeze.
Do they know?
Do they know about the plan to kill me after the wedding? Do they know about the heir? The shipment ambush? Or are they playing a game?
“You want to start a war?” Matteo’s grandfather growls. “Fine. But know this, if a single hair on her head is harmed, it won’t be a war. It’ll be extinction, and we have the firepower to make it look like you never fucking existed.”
My father opens his mouth, but it’s Uncle Liam who loses it.
“You turned her against us,” he spits, pointing at Matteo. “You seduced her. Manipulated her.”
Matteo steps forward. Calm. Controlled.
“No. You did that. The second you put a price tag on her. She’s not your pawn,” he says clearly, loud enough for the whole room.
The silence that follows cuts deeper than anything else. Everyone hears the truth in those words.
My father spits, “Pawn? She was always a pawn. She was bred for this family. Her womb is part of the contract.”
Matteo’s grandfather lets out a low growl, like an old wolf smelling blood.
Uncle Liam steps forward, eyes narrowing. “You want to sleep with her, fine. Fuck the enemy. But if you think she walks out of here—”
Matteo cuts in. “She’s not walking.”
Everyone freezes.
Matteo finishes, “She’s leaving.”
That’s when one of my cousins pulls a gun.
Milo’s faster. His own weapon is drawn and pointed before I even blink. Marco pulls his from his belt, aiming directly at Liam.
And Matteo?
He doesn’t flinch. He’s already moved between me and the barrel. “If you draw steel in front of my blood,” Matteo’s grandfather growls, voice low and deadly. “You best be ready to bury yours.”
No one moves. No one breathes.
The tension snaps like wire. The O’Briens don’t lower their weapons.
But I step forward.
“I was born in your cage,” I say. “But I won’t die in it.”
Liam’s face darkens. His hand lifts—But Matteo’s already in front of me. “Touch her,” he says, “and I’ll burn your house down with you in it.”
More footsteps behind us. Matteo’s uncles. His cousins. Guns everywhere.
Conor’s voice cracks through the chaos. “Aoife—don’t do this.” I look at him, the brother who watched me break and stood by.
“You already did.”
Silence falls.
Matteo turns to Liam. “She’s coming with us.”
Liam smiles coldly. “Then the next time we meet, bring your shovels.”
Matteo’s father steps beside his son.
“We’ve already dug your grave.”
And just like that the war begins.
The car doors shut like closing the cover on a chapter of war.
My ears are still ringing from Uncle Liam’s threats, from Matteo’s father growling that if a single drop of blood fell from me, the O’Briens would drown in it. My hands are shaking in my lap as the convoy of black cars pulls away from the estate like a funeral procession for peace.
I don’t look back. I can’t.
I’ve lost my family, for the man I love. But were they ever my family? No, and even though it hurts I’m happy to be out of hell.
Matteo’s fingers brush over mine. A silent question. A silent comfort. I don’t pull away.
The inside of the car feels louder than the gunfire that almost erupted minutes ago. My pulse pounds like a war drum in my throat, and the silence between us is suffocating.
But this isn’t over.
Because I haven’t told them everything.
The moment we reach Messina grounds, the iron gates closing behind us, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, I know I have no choice but to finally say it.
The car slows to a stop outside the house. The brothers are already stepping out, saying something I don’t catch. But I stay seated. Frozen.
Matteo turns back toward me.
“You okay?” His voice is quieter now, more real than it was in front of both our families, when he had to be all fire and control.
I nod, but it’s a lie.
I step out slowly, my boots hitting the stone steps like I’ve stepped into the belly of something ancient and alive.
We walk toward the front doors, side by side. No words. The house looms, golden lights spilling from arched windows.
We reach the threshold, but just as Matteo opens the door, I stop.
He turns, confused. “What’s wrong?”
My breath is cold in my throat. My voice, colder. “I need to tell you something.”
He stiffens. His hand is still on the door. “Me?” He searches my face. I can’t meet his eyes. “Or the family?”
“The family,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches. “Aoife?”
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “They had a plan, Matteo. A real plan. After the wedding…”
The door swings open, and warmth rushes out, voices, footsteps, Rosa’s laughter somewhere in the distance, but I stay on the edge.
His voice lowers, deadly soft. “What kind of plan?”
I finally meet his eyes.
“The kind where I get pregnant… and then I die.”
Silence. But not peace.
Matteo doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. I feel it the second it hits him, not like a punch, but like a knife sliding slowly under the ribs.
He just stares at me.
My throat tightens. “They were going to pin my death on your family. Make it look like the Messinas killed me. Fuel a war. A real war. They had names. Documents. Timing.”
Still nothing.
The light from the open door spills in between us, a gold crack on marble. But he’s not stepping into it. He’s not stepping toward me at all.
“I’m not part of their plan anymore,” I say, softer, shaking. “But I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you or your family walk into this blind. Not after everything.”
His jaw flexes.
Still no words.
Just a deep breath through his nose, as if he’s trying not to blow apart.
I step toward him, but he steps back.
“Matteo—”
“You knew this,” he growls. His voice is quiet, but sharp enough to cut skin.
“You knew this and you didn’t tell me. Not when we were at the cliffs.
Not when we were in my fucking bed. Not when my family stood in that room ready to start a war for you.
” His hands curl into fists, trembling at his sides.
“You let me bring you into my house, my house, knowing your family had planned your murder and wanted to use mine to fucking clean it up like blood off a kitchen floor.”
I flinch. “I didn’t know how—”
“No.” He laughs, bitter and dark. “You just knew enough to wait. Until we were too far in to turn back.”
“I was scared—”
“I don’t care if you were scared!” he explodes, voice like a storm ripping down the walls. “Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to us? What it would’ve done to me if they succeeded?”
“I didn’t ask for any of this!”
“And yet, you’re the one holding the fuse,” he snaps.
I take a step back. “I told you now because I chose you. I chose this. I love you”
He finally looks at me, but it’s not the look that used to melt me.
It’s fury. Betrayal. Like I’ve carved something out of him without permission.
“You should’ve told me,” he whispers. “You don’t get to choose when the truth is convenient, Aoife.”
His words shake me harder than any slap ever could. He didn’t call me little lamb; he used my name.
I look down, ashamed, but also bleeding. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
Matteo turns, runs a hand through his hair, back tense like he’s barely holding it together. For a long time, he says nothing, pacing once, twice, then stopping with his back to me.
“I don’t even know what I’m protecting anymore,” he mutters. “You… or the version of you I thought was on my side.”
My chest caves in.
“I am on your side,” I whisper.
Finally, he turns around. There’s something broken in his eyes. “Then stop hiding things from me.”
Silence.
For one brutal second, I think he’s going to walk away, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he moves forward, takes my hand. Not gently. Not lovingly. But like a man grabbing onto the last rope before the fall.
His voice, when it comes, is hoarse. “We’re too far in now. So don’t lie to me again. Not about anything.”
I nod, breath shallow. “I swear.”
His grip tightens.
Because the real war hasn’t started yet.
But I lit the match, and Matteo’s the one who might have to burn for it.
They’re all staring at me. The Messina family, Matteo’s entire bloodline, lined up like an army in tailored suits. Shadows stretch across the room from the tall arched windows, the afternoon light bruising everything gold and dark.
My mouth is dry.
Matteo stands beside me, but I feel like I’m on my own again, all eyes, all silence, all waiting for the wolf to speak.
“There’s more,” I whisper.
Matteo stiffens next to me. He thought we’d gone over everything, but I couldn’t tell him the whole of it then. I couldn’t breathe through it.
“There’s more,” I repeat louder. “And you all need to know.”
I hold out the documents, when I was in my family’s office, I took pictures of everything I found and printed it all out. I wanted to make sure if they got my phone I still had something to prove what they were doing.
Matteo takes them from me slowly, flipping through page after page as I speak.
“My family… The O’Briens, they’ve been working with Rory’s father for years.
The whole engagement, me and Rory, it’s not just about a wedding.
It’s about power. It’s about taking you down.
All of you. They’ve been planning it for a long time.
” The room goes still. “Rory’s wife…” I swallow, bile rising in my throat.
“She wasn’t just collateral damage in a war, she had no part in.
The shooting that killed her happened in Hollow Drive.
In Cavalli territory, but they blamed you, the Messinas, because your daughter is married to them, and you have the power of every town around here. ”
I pause, watching Matteo’s jaw clench.
“They’re using it as fuel,” I continue. “They’re marrying me off to ‘avenge’ her, but also to gain land, weapons, alliances… and when I’m pregnant—” My voice breaks. “They had a pregnancy initiative. Lock the bloodline. Secure the heir. And then…”
I pull the last document from my coat. A manila envelope. Sealed. I don’t need to open it again; the words are already seared into my mind.
“Termination plan,” I whisper. “They were going to stage my death and blame it on you. Start a war.”
“Mother of God…” Matteo’s uncle Luca says, his voice ragged with disgust. “These fucking snakes.”
I can barely look at them.
“I didn’t know,” I say, chest heaving. “I didn’t know until I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You should’ve told us sooner.” Marco’s voice is cold.
“I know,” I whisper.
“You walked into this house with a bomb,” someone else growls, I think it’s one of Matteo’s older cousins. “You realize that?”
Matteo steps forward, shoulder brushing mine, and speaks for the first time. “She came to me the moment she had proof,” he says, voice low and hard. “And she risked her life doing it.”
“She’s O’Brien,” another snaps. “That blood doesn’t just wash off.”
“She jumped off the fucking school roof to get away from them!” Matteo explodes. “She almost died trying to escape them, she nearly died because of them!”
That quiets the room. Silence again.
Until Matteo’s Grandfather steps forward, slow and steady like a glacier made of ash and steel. His voice when it comes is dark as the grave.
“We all made the choice to stick with Matteo through this, we all have to think how hard this is for her. She’s giving us her family; we need to understand that." His words surprised me. I wasn’t expecting him to say anything like that but maybe seeing how scared I am showing.
No one moves. No one says anything.
Then his grandfather speaks again. “Right, we need to be ready. Because war is coming.”
His father, sitting stone-faced at the table, finally speaks, voice like splintered wood.
“I still don’t like it,” he mutters. “But I’m not blind, that girl was born to be a weapon and she turned the blade on them to stand beside us—” He looks over at Matteo.
“To be with my son.” He turns his cold eyes back to me, the corner of his lip curls slightly. “Then let them come, and we will win.”
The toast echoes like a warning bell. Matteo grips my hand tighter, grounding me, pulling me in.
This war was written before we were born.
But now, it has a face.
Ours.