Chapter 24: CHAPTER 24 — MATTEO

The thing about war is that it never explodes all at once.

It creeps.

It slithers under the door, presses its cold fingers against your spine, whispers in your ear before you even register the danger.

Tonight, the whisper was already in my blood.

Nico paced the length of the warehouse, his boots hitting the concrete like impatient punctuation marks. “They hit the southern docks,” he said for the fifth time in under ten minutes. “Petrov’s men. Fast, organized, in-and-out like they rehearsed every second.”

“They did,” I muttered. “They’ve been rehearsing for months.”

My jaw ached from being clenched too long. I rolled my neck, letting the crack soothe nothing.

Nico stopped in front of me. “We need to move. Hit back. Something. Anything.”

“And attack what?” I shot him a look. “A shadow? Petrov hasn’t shown his hand. Until he does, we’re swinging blindly.”

Nico swore under his breath. “Matteo, he’s pressing us from every angle. He’s tightening the net. He’s—”

“I know what he’s doing.”

He shut up because the tone of my voice could’ve cut steel.

I knew exactly what Petrov was doing.

I’d seen this pattern before.

Years ago.

Just before everything went to hell.

Just before I lost Lilianna the first time.

And now?

Now she was back in my life, back in my space, back under my skin in ways that were becoming dangerous not for me—but for her.

Always her.

I dragged a hand down my face. “Any word on the Brooklyn safehouse?”

“Quiet,” Nico said. “Too quiet.”

My stomach tightened.

“Callum?” I asked sharply.

Nico hesitated—just long enough for heat to spike in my bloodstream.

“Spit it out,” I growled.

“He’s fine. I had men check in. Twice.” He exhaled. “It’s Lilianna I’m worried about. She’s not… steady.”

No, she wasn’t.

I saw it earlier—the shake in her hands she tried to hide, the way she kept her arms wrapped around herself like she was holding something inside that threatened to spill out.

Or break her.

Nico continued, “She’s unraveling, Matteo. Too fast. Too deep. You can’t keep pushing her and expect—”

“I’m not pushing her.”

“You are,” he snapped. “You are without realizing it.”

I turned away.

Because he was right.

Because everything I did—everything I said, every way I tried to keep her safe—only dragged her further into the fire. And she didn’t know the worst of it yet. She didn’t know what I’d discovered. She didn’t know what Petrov wanted. She didn’t know what he planned to weaponize against me.

She didn’t know that all of this had started because of something I had done years ago.

And if she found out—

My chest tightened.

Nico’s voice softened. “Matteo… she loves you.”

I froze.

He immediately lifted both hands. “I’m not saying it to piss you off. I’m saying it because it’s true, and because it complicates everything.”

It did.

And it also didn’t change a damn thing.

“Love doesn’t matter in war,” I said quietly.

“Maybe not,” Nico murmured. “But it matters to her. And it matters to you more than you’ll admit.”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because the truth was a sharp thing in my throat.

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. I snatched it up.

Unknown number.

A cold drip of instinct slid down my spine.

I answered. “Who is this?”

A soft breath.

Then—

“Ciao, Matteo.”

Petrov.

My blood went still.

“I was hoping for a warmer welcome,” he purred. “But then again, Italians aren’t known for their manners. Except Lilianna, of course. She’s charming. Disarmingly so.”

Ice replaced every drop of blood in my veins.

“What do you want?” I asked, voice low enough to kill.

“To talk,” Petrov said. “Face to face. You and me. No guns. No men. You choose the place.”

“No,” I said immediately.

“Oh,” he chuckled. “You misunderstand. This was not a request.”

The muscles along my spine turned to wire. “If you touch her—”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, all faux innocence. “She’s a mother now. I respect mothers.”

A pulse detonated behind my eyes.

He knew.

He knew.

“Callum is a lovely name,” Petrov continued lightly. “How old is he—three? Four? Children are so… impressionable at that age. Wouldn’t you agree?”

My hand tightened around the phone until it groaned.

Nico noticed and reached for his gun automatically, reading the danger in my expression.

I forced my voice steady. “If you go near him, I will cut your heart out through your spine.”

Petrov laughed, delighted. “Ah, there he is. The Matteo I’ve missed. The one who makes promises he can’t keep.”

He paused.

“Meet me tonight,” he said, voice turning deadly serious. “Pier 19. Midnight. Come alone—or the boy disappears.”

The call ended.

For a long moment I just stood there, the weight of the phone heavy in my hand, the silence crushing.

Then I whispered, “He knows.”

Nico’s face drained of color. “Knows what?”

“About Callum.”

Nico swore viciously. “How? Matteo, how the f—”

“I don’t know.” My voice came out raw. “But if he knows about the kid, then he knows Lilianna’s connection. And if he knows that…”

Everything spiraled at once.

Lilianna.

Callum.

The past.

My mistake.

My secret.

The one thing I never wanted her to find out.

Nico grabbed my arm. “We’ll take a team—”

“No.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of going alone—”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“They’ll kill you.”

I turned to him, eyes cold. “Then they kill me. But if I don’t go, they take the boy. They take her. You know how Petrov plays. He’ll carve her into pieces just to see me bleed.”

Nico flinched.

“I’m going,” I said.

“And Lilianna?” he asked quietly.

A muscle in my jaw twitched.

I had no answer.

Because telling her would shatter her.

But keeping it from her would destroy her trust.

Nico straightened. “You need to talk to her before you do this. You need to tell her—”

“Tell her what?” I snapped. “That I screwed up years ago? That everything happening now is because of me? That her son is in danger because of my mistake?”

The words tasted like acid.

Nico shook his head. “You don’t get to shield her from the truth because you’re afraid of losing her.”

He didn’t understand.

I wasn’t afraid of losing her.

I was afraid of breaking her.

I stepped back. “Get the car ready. We leave in thirty.”

Nico’s expression twisted with something between anger and worry, but he didn’t argue. He jogged away to get things in motion.

When the warehouse door slammed shut behind him, I let myself breathe for the first time since the phone call.

A long, shuddering inhale.

Then—

“Matteo?”

I turned sharply.

She stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around her middle, eyes red-rimmed like she’d been trying not to cry. Her hair was a mess, her breathing uneven, and her presence cracked straight down the center of my chest.

“Lilianna,” I said quietly.

Something in her expression crumpled. “I felt—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Something in my gut. I knew something was wrong. Tell me what happened.”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something.”

She stepped closer, voice trembling. “Don’t lie to me, Matteo. Not now. Not after everything. Please.”

The plea gutted me.

I swallowed hard. “Petrov called.”

Her face went white. “Is Callum—”

“He’s okay.”

For now.

Those words stayed locked behind my teeth.

She staggered a breath of relief but it was fragile, thin. “Then what did Petrov want?”

My silence gave her the answer.

Her voice cracked. “You’re going to him.”

“Yes.”

“Alone.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, stepping back like I’d struck her. “No. No, you can’t do that. You can’t just walk into a trap—”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice!”

“Not when he threatens the kid.”

Everything froze.

Her lips parted. “He… threatened Callum?”

I forced myself to meet her eyes. “He knows, Lilianna.”

The world fell out from under her.

Her hand flew to her mouth, a strangled sound tearing free. “No… no, he can’t… how—how could he—”

I moved toward her, but she jerked back like my touch burned.

Her voice splintered. “This is because of you. Isn’t it? Something you did. Something you’re not telling me.”

There it was.

The blade I’d been dreading finally pressed against my throat.

“Lilianna…” I began.

She shook her head violently. “Don’t. Don’t you dare. If you know something—if you did something—you tell me right now.”

Silence.

Marrow-deep silence.

“Say it,” she demanded, tears spilling. “Tell me what you did.”

My chest cracked open.

“I made a mistake,” I whispered. “Years ago.”

Her breath hitched. “What mistake?”

A hard, ugly truth pressed against my tongue.

But then an alarm vibrated in my pocket—Nico’s signal.

Time was up.

I stepped closer, cupping her face despite her stiffening. “I will come back to you,” I said roughly. “I swear it.”

She shook her head, tears falling freely. “You can’t promise that.”

“I just did.”

“Matteo—”

I kissed her.

Hard.

Desperate.

Like it was the last thing I’d ever do.

Then I pulled back, letting my forehead rest against hers. “Stay with Nico. Don’t leave his sight. Don’t go anywhere near the safehouse alone. Do you hear me?”

Her voice broke. “Please don’t go.”

But I already had.

Because Petrov wanted a war.

And I was done waiting for the first shot.