Chapter 27: CHAPTER 27 – POV MATTEO

The docks smelled like rust, salt, and old sins.

Exactly where this was meant to end.

My boots hit the wooden planks with steady, deliberate steps. Petrov stood thirty feet ahead, framed by the fog, a few of his men scattered around like vultures perched on the bones of the pier.

The moon carved a line of silver down the water, right between us.

“You came alone,” Petrov said, smiling like a knife. “Just as requested.”

“You talk too much,” I replied.

He laughed. “Still arrogant. Still reckless. Still thinking you’re the most dangerous thing in the room.”

I leveled my gun at him. “I am.”

“For now.”

His eyes glinted. “But you won’t pull that trigger, Matteo.”

I didn’t blink. “Try me.”

He tilted his head. “Because if you shoot me… she’ll never learn the truth.”

A cold pulse went through my spine.

He wanted this.

Wanted the reaction.

Wanted the crack.

He got nothing.

I kept my voice flat. “Your leverage is weak.”

“Is it?” Petrov stepped forward. “Three years ago. A warehouse in Palermo. A burning car. A woman bleeding in the passenger seat. A child screaming from the back.”

My grip tightened.

My lungs froze.

“Shut up,” I said quietly.

“No,” Petrov said. “I think I’ll keep going. The past is such an intimate thing, isn't it? Especially when it involves her.”

He knew.

He knew every detail.

He knew enough to destroy everything.

But he wasn’t finished.

“You saved the child,” Petrov continued. “But the man you killed to do it—”

“I said shut up.”

“—was Lilianna’s fiancé.”

A blade of ice ripped through my chest.

Petrov smiled, cruel and slow.

“There it is. The truth.”

My voice was a low growl. “He wasn’t her fiancé.”

“He was to her.” Petrov shrugged. “She kept it secret. Everyone does, in your world. Including you.”

My pulse slammed so hard it felt like the docks moved under me.

He didn’t stop.

“You killed him, Matteo. You killed the father of her child.”

My gun dipped one inch—not because I doubted my aim, but because my heart stuttered once, violently.

Because Petrov wasn’t lying.

Because I had been the shadow Lilianna never saw that night.

Because I had buried that truth so deep inside me I forgot it still bled.

Petrov stepped closer. “And she has no idea.”

His smile widened.

“But she will.”

I heard footsteps behind me.

Light.

Fast.

Desperate.

Her voice cut through the fog like a blade.

“MATTEO!”

No.

No, no, no.

Not here. Not now.

I turned so fast the world blurred.

She stood there—chest heaving, hair wild, eyes filled with something that shattered me instantly.

Fear.

Determination.

Pain she didn’t fully understand yet.

“Lilianna,” I breathed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She walked toward me anyway. “Then tell me why. Tell me the truth before he does.”

Petrov laughed behind me. “Too late.”

She didn’t even look at him.

Her eyes were on me only.

Brown. Burning.

Demanding.

“Matteo,” she whispered. “Is it true?”

The fog pressed in. The waves crashed against the pier. The gun felt heavy in my hand.

“Lilianna—” I started.

“Is it true,” she repeated, voice cracking, “that you killed Callum’s father?”

My heart broke.

Not metaphorically.

Physically.

Violently.

I lowered the gun.

“Listen to me,” I said. “That night—”

A gunshot cracked the air.

Not mine.

Not hers.

Petrov’s.

And it wasn’t aimed at me.

“LILI—!”

I lunged.

My body collided with hers, dragging her down as the bullet sliced the air where her head had been.

She hit the ground beneath me, breath knocked from her lungs. I covered her with my entire weight, shielding her with everything I had.

Petrov’s men started shouting.

More guns lifted.

More shots rang out.

But my world narrowed to the woman beneath me.

“Are you hurt?” I rasped.

She shook her head, wide-eyed. “Matteo—”

Another shot.

Close.

Too close.

I rolled, grabbed her waist, pulled her behind a stack of crates.

“Stay down,” I ordered.

“No!” She grabbed my shirt, pulling me back with frantic strength. “Don’t you dare get yourself killed before you answer me!”

Even in gunfire.

Even with danger surrounding us.

She wanted the truth more than safety.

“Lilianna,” I said, breath breaking, “listen—”

A bullet ripped through the crate near her head, splintering wood.

Her scream tore through me.

I yanked her against my chest, shielding her again, rage burning through every nerve in my body.

Petrov’s voice echoed across the dock.

“Tell her, Matteo! Tell her whose life you ended that night!”

Lilianna pushed up on her elbows, eyes shining with tears and fury. “Tell me!”

The world held its breath.

The fog.

The waves.

The crying steel of pulled triggers.

Everything stopped.

I cupped her face between my hands, forehead pressed against hers, and finally—

finally—

I let the truth break free.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I killed him.”

Her breath shattered.

My voice did too.

“But he wasn’t who you thought he was.”

She flinched like I’d slapped her.

“What?”

“He wasn’t innocent,” I said, voice raw. “He wasn’t your savior. He wasn’t your future. He was working for Petrov. He was delivering you to him.”

She froze.

“He was going to trade you,” I said, choking on the words. “And the baby you carried.”

Everything in her face shifted.

Pain.

Confusion.

Shock.

And a breaking disbelief.

“He—he wouldn’t—” she whispered.

“He already had,” I said. “I heard the call. I intercepted it. He was bringing you to a warehouse. You thought it was an engine fire. But he set the car up. To force you out. To hand you over.”

Her lips parted. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.”

Her tears slipped free, falling hot against my fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

“Because I didn’t want you to see me as the man who took the father of your child.”

My throat tightened.

“I didn’t want you to hate me.”

A sharp cry left her, part anguish, part disbelief.

Petrov shouted something in Russian.

Footsteps pounded.

Shadows closed in.

But Lilianna grabbed my face and forced my eyes on hers.

“You should have told me,” she said, voice trembling. “You should have trusted me.”

“I know.”

God, I knew.

“And you should have let me decide what he meant to me.”

I swallowed hard. “I was wrong.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. It killed me.

“But,” she whispered, “you saved Callum.”

I exhaled shakily. “I would do it again.”

Something flickered in her eyes—pain still, but something else too.

Understanding.

Breaking.

Reforming.

She leaned forward, her voice barely there.

“Matteo… I’m not going anywhere. Not now.”

Hope hit me so fast it hurt.

A shout tore through the dock.

Petrov’s men charged.

I stood in one swift movement, pulling her behind me, gun raised.

“Stay behind me,” I growled.

“Not this time,” she said, lifting her own weapon. “I’m fighting with you.”

And as the first wave of men broke through the fog, I felt it.

Not fear.

Not regret.

But the unmistakable, bone-deep certainty—

We were going to survive this.

Together.