Chapter 42
Matteo
“It’s me, Little Thief,” I whisper, feeling her body freeze against mine in the darkness.
My hand slides from her mouth, thumb brushing her split lip where blood has dried in a dark crust. For one endless second, she doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. Then she collapses against me like her bones have liquified, her entire body shaking with silent, heaving sobs.
I catch her weight, pulling her against me so tightly I can feel her heart hammering through both our clothes, a frantic drumbeat perfectly matching my own.
“Matteo,” she croaks, voice broken and raw, like she’s been screaming for hours. Her fingers dig into my arms hard enough to bruise, as if she’s afraid I might evaporate if she doesn’t anchor me to her. “You came… you found me.”
“I’ll always find you.” The promise tears from my throat, fierce and primal. I cup her face between my hands, tilting it up to mine.
“You’re really here,” she sobs.
Her mouth crashes against mine, desperate and hungry, tasting of copper and salt and survival. I kiss her back with equal ferocity, drinking in the proof that she’s alive, that she’s real, that she’s still mine.
She’s trembling so violently I can feel every bone in her body rattling against mine. “I thought…” She gasps between kisses. “I thought he was going to… he killed Adam right in front of me—”
“Shhh.” I press my forehead against hers, keeping one arm locked around her waist while the other hand tangles in her hair, cradling the back of her head. “You’re safe now, Little Thief. I’m getting you out of here.”
Her entire body goes rigid in my arms. “What do you mean by that? We’re both leaving, aren’t we?”
“I have to finish this,” I explain. “But there’s a back exit through the loading bay. Enzo and Piper are waiting with the car. I’m going to get you to them, and then I’m coming back to finish this.”
She pulls back just enough to glare up at me, her hands fisting in my shirt with surprising strength. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Raven—”
“No.” The single syllable scrapes out of her damaged throat, rough and immovable as stone. “Don’t you dare send me away.”
Only now do I notice my Little Thief is clutching something in her right hand—her knife. Her knuckles are white around the handle, like she’ll die before she lets it go.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I growl, frustration warring with the desperate need to get her somewhere safe. Every second we stand here is another second Finn could appear, another second where I could lose her all over again.
“Look at me, Matteo.” She shoves the knife into her pocket and grabs my face with both hands, her palms slick with her own blood from the nasty-looking wounds on her wrists. “Look at me and tell me you could focus on killing that monster if you were worried about me making it out.”
My jaw flexes beneath her touch. She’s right, and we both know it. The second she’s out of my sight, I’ll be torn between hunting Finn and ensuring she’s safe. And that split-second of distraction could get us both killed.
“I don’t know how long I’ve been here,” she continues, voice cracking but determined. “And I don’t think I want to know. But I’m not going anywhere without you again. I can’t.”
“Raven,” I try again, but she shakes her head.
“P-please don’t make me,” she sniffles. “I love you, Matteo. Don’t send me away.”
Something inside my chest fractures at the naked terror beneath her determination. My Raven—my brave, chaotic, unstoppable Raven—has never been afraid like this. Has never looked so close to breaking. And I put her in this position by not finding her faster.
“Please,” she whispers, so quiet I barely hear it. “Don’t make me leave you again.”
I close my eye, pressing my face against her hair, breathing in the scent of her beneath the blood and sweat. Every instinct screams at me to get her out, to put her somewhere safe where Finn Kearney—no, Salvador Greco—can never touch her again.
But my Little Thief is right. Separating now could be more dangerous than staying together.
“Fine,” I relent, the word rough with reluctance. “But you stay behind me. You do what I say, when I say it. No arguments, no questions. Understand?”
She nods against my chest, relief making her sag further into my arms. “I understand.”
I press a hard kiss to her temple, tasting salt. “And the second—the fucking second—I tell you to run, you run. No matter what’s happening to me. Promise me.”
She doesn’t answer, and I grip her shoulders, forcing her to look at me.
“Promise me, Raven.”
Her eyes meet mine, defiant even now. “I promise to try.” It’s the best I’m going to get, and we both know it.
I take her hand, lacing my fingers with hers, feeling the tremors still running through her body. She’s running on nothing but adrenaline and fear, exhaustion evident in the shadows beneath her eyes and the way she leans into me for support.
“Stay close,” I murmur, pulling her against my side. “And stay quiet.”
We move deeper into the warehouse, the emergency lights cast our shadows in stark relief against the concrete walls. My eyepatch catches the dim red glow, turning the leather into something that gleams wetly in the darkness like fresh blood.
Raven’s breath comes in shallow pants against my side, but she keeps pace, her fingers locked with mine in a grip so tight it borders on painful.
I navigate the warren of hallways like I’ve memorized the floor plan, because I have. Instead of showing up in a blaze of glory, Piper made me study every part of the building. Which I’m glad for now.
We reach the main storage area, a cavernous space filled with stacked crates and industrial shelving that disappears into shadows overhead. Perfect.
I release Raven’s hand just long enough to dig inside my jacket, pulling out what looks like a handful of small cylinders and wires. She watches, her eyes widening as I press one against a support beam and another near a stack of empty pallets.
Her fingers find my arm, questioning without words. “When I’m done, the only exit will be through the loading dock,” I explain, my voice low and matter-of-fact as I thread more devices along the wall behind us. “We’re setting and controlling the cage.”
“With what?” Her voice cracks on the question, raw and barely audible.
I flash her a smile that feels more like baring my teeth. “Fireworks and a few other things I picked up from the wreckage of North Coast Effects.” I slide the last device into place, the small red activation light blinking steadily against the concrete.
Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by something darker—a shadow of the same vengeful hunger that’s been consuming me since she disappeared. She nods once, sharply and decisively.
“Keep close,” I murmur, pulling her against my side again as I retrieve my lighter from my pocket. The familiar weight of it grounds me, centers me. This is what I do best. This is who I’ve always been. “This is going to get very loud and very bright. When it does, we move deeper in.”
Raven’s fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, anchoring herself to me. Her body still trembles, but there’s steel beneath the exhaustion now. “Let’s burn this motherfucker down.”
Pride surges through me, fierce and burning. My Little Thief, afraid but standing her ground. I flick the lighter open, the small flame dancing in the darkness like a promise.
“Stay behind me,” I remind her, then touch the flame to the first detonator.
For three heartbeats, nothing happens—then the world explodes into chaos. The first firework screams to life, shooting across the warehouse floor in a trail of blue-white sparks before exploding against a far wall.
The second and third ignite simultaneously, sending cascades of red fire racing up the walls like living vines.
Then it’s the incendiaries’ turn, and they catch next. Controlled blazes erupting along our path, sealing the exit behind us with a wall of hungry flames. The heat hits us in a wave, and I feel Raven press closer to my back, her breath hot against my neck.
The warehouse transforms with each explosion—darkness retreats, shadows dance and multiply, every surface gleams wet with reflected fire. Smoke gathers near the ceiling, thick and acrid.
More explosions follow, each one precisely timed and placed. I’ve turned the area into an arena of fire and light, a shifting landscape of danger that I control. This is my element. This is where I was forged.
“Jesus,” Raven whispers, her voice almost lost beneath the crackle and roar of the flames. Her hand finds mine again, squeezing hard enough to hurt.
I turn to face her, watching the firelight paint her pale skin in shades of gold and crimson. She looks both terrified and alive, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. For a moment, I almost forget why we’re here—mesmerized by how beautiful she is in this hellscape I’ve created.
Then movement catches my eye. A shadow separating from the darkness behind a stack of crates. I shove Raven behind me, my body automatically positioning itself as her shield.
The gunshot comes a heartbeat later, the sound sharp and definitive even against the backdrop of burning chaos. The bullet misses me by inches, embedding itself in the concrete wall with a spray of dust and fragments.
I feel rather than hear Raven’s sharp intake of breath against my back.
“I was wondering when you’d arrive, Matteo.
” Finn Kearney’s voice cuts through the roar of the flames, eerily calm.
He steps into view, gun held steady in one hand.
But this isn’t Finn anymore—this is Salvador Greco, the boy who lost his family because they took mine.
“Though I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to bring the fire to me. ”
“I thought it would be poetic.” My voice sounds alien to my own ears—flat, almost conversational, despite the inferno raging around us. “Your family killed my parents with fire. I killed your family with fire. And now, here we are again because you had to look a gift horse in the fucking mouth.”