Chapter 10
A Moment of Vulnerability
The dim interior of the abandoned storefront felt suffocating. Dust particles swirled in the stagnant air, their slow dance the only sign of life in the otherwise still space. Matteo sat on the floor, back against the cracked brick wall, his legs stretched out, Aldo leaning against him. The distant sounds of the city felt muffled, like they were in a world apart; a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment.
Matteo’s fingers worked with practiced precision as he adjusted the bandages around Aldo’s side. Every movement was deliberate, but his mind wasn’t entirely on the task. The weight of the situation kept pressing down on him, relentless. He couldn’t shake the thought of what had just happened. Sofia’s betrayal.
Aldo’s breathing was shallow, his hand resting against his injured side, pressing to staunch the bleeding as much as he could. His usual sharpness was dulled, the fire that had burned in his eyes now flickering weakly. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else in his gaze; a softness, a rawness that Matteo had never seen before. It was as though the walls Aldo had spent years building around himself were starting to crack.
Matteo didn’t know what to make of it.
"How bad is it?" Aldo asked, his voice strained but laced with a quiet kind of humor that Matteo didn’t understand.
Matteo glanced up, meeting his eyes. “Bad enough,” he muttered, his fingers tightening the cloth a little more than necessary. Aldo winced but didn’t protest.
“Not a death sentence, though.” Aldo’s lips curled into a half-smile, though the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’d like to stick around long enough to make sure you get your show, yeah?”
Matteo gave him a sharp look, his jaw tightening. “I’m not worried about the show right now.”
Aldo’s smirk faltered slightly. “You sure about that? Because I’ve been itching to rip into Sofia since we left that place.”
Matteo didn’t respond at first. “I’m worried about you, you idiot,” Matteo finally said, his voice low. There was a subtle vulnerability in the words, an honesty that caught both of them off guard. “If you die here, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Aldo cut in; his voice rough but not mocking. “You’ll take care of it. “
Matteo met his gaze again, his breath catching for a moment. Aldo was right. He’d always been the one to handle things, to take care of business. But this was different. This wasn’t about keeping the world at arm’s length, about managing everything with a cold, calculating demeanor. This felt… personal.
“I’m not going to let you die,” Matteo said quietly. He almost couldn’t believe he’d said it aloud, the words tasting foreign on his tongue. But as he spoke them, the weight in his chest eased just a little. Aldo wasn’t his enemy anymore; he was something more.
Aldo blinked, his expression shifting for just a fraction of a second. It was as if the armor he wore so well cracked, just for a moment, revealing something softer beneath. But it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Aldo shifted, winced, and gritted his teeth as the pain from his injury flared up again.
“Don’t go soft on me now, Moretti,” Aldo said, trying to force a lightness into his tone.
Matteo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he finished securing the bandages, his hands moving with a tenderness he couldn’t explain. When he was done, he stayed there for a moment longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against Aldo’s shirt, lingering at the hem for just a second.
Aldo’s gaze softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them, the unspoken desire, the challenge in every glance, was there, but now, it was tinged with something else. Something fragile. Something that neither of them had allowed themselves to feel before.
Matteo exhaled sharply, then stood up, glancing toward the cracked window. The shadows outside seemed to pulse with a quiet threat, but the real danger wasn’t out there; it was the uncertainty that hung in the air between them. He could feel it now, thick and suffocating. What they were to each other had always been defined by their families, their names. But in this moment, it was something more.
“You’re gonna be alright,” Matteo said, his voice gruff, as he turned away, needing a moment of distance to steady himself.
Aldo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, the sharp edge of pain still visible in his features. But his voice was steady, despite everything.
“I think you’re just too chicken shit to fight Russo alone.” he muttered, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around to make sure you don’t screw it up.”
Matteo shot him a glance, a faint, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t much; just a flicker of something real. But it was enough.
“Fuck off,” Matteo said, the edge back in his tone, the barrier slipping into place again.
Aldo chuckled, though it was weak, his eyes closing once more as he let his body rest.
Matteo crouched by the door, checking his gun one last time. They weren’t out of danger yet. Russo’s men wouldn’t be far behind.
But for a brief moment, amidst the chaos, amidst the pain and blood and betrayal, they had found something they hadn’t had before; a fragile trust. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep them going.
???
The moon hung high above the darkened skyline, casting a silver glow over the alleyways that snaked through the city. The night was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of cars and the occasional footstep echoing in the streets. Inside the abandoned storefront, the air was thick with the smell of damp concrete and stale air, but for Matteo and Aldo, it was a fleeting moment of peace; a break from the chaos that had plagued their lives for far too long.
Aldo sat against the crumbling wall; his back propped up by a worn wooden crate. He was still pale, his face drawn with exhaustion, but the bleeding had stopped, the makeshift bandages doing their job. The room was dim, the only light coming from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, flickering like it, too, was exhausted by the weight of everything they’d just endured.
Matteo paced slowly, his boots echoing softly on the cracked floor as his mind wandered, the adrenaline of their escape beginning to wear off. He had a million things to think about; Russo’s men, Sofia’s betrayal, the looming threat of the war between their families. But it was something else that lingered in the back of his mind, something he hadn’t expected to come to the surface.
Aldo’s voice cut through the stillness, rough with the remnants of pain but laced with something quieter, more vulnerable. “You ever think about how we got here? How we ended up… like this?”
Matteo paused in his tracks, the question hanging in the air. He didn’t answer immediately, unsure of how to respond. But Aldo wasn’t waiting for an answer. He was lost in his thoughts, his eyes unfocused as if he were seeing something only he could see.
“I didn’t want to be the one who took his place,” Aldo continued, his voice lower now, softer. “But I didn’t have a choice. My old man was weak. He failed us. Failed me.” His words came out in a bitter rasp. “I watched him make mistake after mistake, putting the family at risk... and in the end, he couldn’t protect us. So I did what I had to do. I killed him.”
Matteo froze, the weight of Aldo’s confession pressing down on him like a lead blanket. He’d known Aldo had taken out the former head of the De Luca family, after all, he was there when it happened, but hearing him speak so openly about it… It was raw. The honesty in his voice sent a chill through Matteo’s chest.
Aldo’s eyes met his, the vulnerability in them so stark that it took Matteo a moment to process what he was seeing. “I don’t want to become him,” Aldo added, his voice shaking slightly. “I don't want to let my family down. Every day, I’m afraid I’ll fail. I’ll fuck up like he did. I’ll be weak like he was. And if that happens, if I fail them like he failed us… then what?”
Matteo stood there, speechless for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t imagine the burden Aldo had carried, the weight of the De Luca name pressing down on him every single day. And Matteo realized, in that quiet moment, how much he had misunderstood him. How much of Aldo’s bravado had been a mask for the fear of failure, the fear of becoming the man he despised.
Matteo moved toward him slowly, his boots heavy on the floor. He stood in front of Aldo, eyes soft but focused. “You’re nothing like him,” Matteo said, his voice low but certain. “You’re stronger than he ever was.”
Aldo gave him a wry, tired smile but didn’t respond, his gaze falling to the floor as if the weight of his own thoughts had become too much.
There was a long silence between them, filled with things neither of them was ready to say. Matteo leaned against the wall beside him, the flickering light above casting shadows across the room. He could feel the weight of the conversation pressing in on him, but there was something about Aldo’s vulnerability that made him want to open up as well. To share his own fears, his own burdens.
“I’ve always lived in Enzo’s shadow,” Matteo said suddenly, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Ever since I was a kid, he was the one who held everything together. He took over the Moretti family after our father was murdered; he was seventeen, Aldo. Seventeen. And he did it without blinking. He made sure everything kept running. Made sure we stayed on top. And I…” He paused, glancing down at his hands, fingers curled into fists. “I just followed him. Always in his shadow.”
Aldo turned to look at him, curiosity flickering in his gaze, but Matteo didn’t meet his eyes. His mind wandered back to those early years after their father’s death, the way Enzo had stepped into the role of leader with a cold, unyielding resolve. Enzo had always been the one to make the tough decisions, the one who didn’t hesitate. Matteo had admired him, yes, but also envied him at times; envied him for the way the family had looked to Enzo for everything, while he was left in the background.
“I never resented him for it,” Matteo continued, his voice quieter now, tinged with something almost like gratitude. “He did what had to be done. But I couldn’t help feeling… like I was never good enough. Like I was just the backup. The guy who handled the dirty work but was never really in charge.”
Aldo’s expression softened, and for the first time in a long while, Matteo could see the understanding in his eyes. “Doesn’t sound like a bad spot to be in,” Aldo said, his voice a little lighter. “I mean, being the guy who makes sure everything gets done, right? You kept your family safe, didn’t you?”
Matteo nodded slowly, the weight in his chest easing slightly. “I did. We both did.” He exhaled, feeling the tension finally start to release from his muscles. “But there’s always that part of me that wonders if I could’ve done more. If I could’ve been more like Enzo. Just more.”
Aldo grinned, a weak but genuine smile that tugged at Matteo’s heart. “You’re a hell of a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”
They fell silent again, the bond between them now something deeper, something that went beyond just survival or loyalty to their families. It was something they both understood without needing to say it; two men who had grown up with burdens too heavy to carry alone, but who had carried them anyway.
“I just want to make sure I don’t let anyone down,” Aldo muttered, his voice thick with a mixture of exhaustion and something else, maybe relief. “That’s all I want.”
Matteo’s hand hovered over his shoulder for a moment, then he clapped him firmly on the back. “You won’t. You’ve already proved that.”