Chapter 29: CHAPTER 29 – POV Lilianna

The first time Matteo’s eyes opened, I didn’t even notice at first. My hands were shaking from hours of adrenaline, stitches, and terror, my vision blurred from unshed tears. I was staring at the ceiling of the safehouse, waiting, praying, willing him to breathe. Then, slowly, the dark green eyes I knew so well cracked open.

“Lilianna…” His voice was barely above a whisper, ragged with pain and exhaustion. My heart stopped, then thudded so loudly it felt like it would explode through my chest.

“I’m here,” I breathed, leaning closer, letting him feel the warmth of my presence, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

He blinked, eyes trying to focus, and then, with an effort that made me ache in sympathy, he shifted his head just enough to see me. “You… you’re here,” he rasped.

“Always,” I said softly, brushing the damp strands of hair off his forehead. “I’m never leaving. Not now, not ever.”

A weak, humorless smile tugged at his lips. “You look… awful.”

I laughed through the tension, a short, broken sound. “And you look like hell. But I’ll fix that too.”

He tried to speak again, but a wave of pain made him flinch. I gently pressed my hand to his side, feeling the stiff stitches and the bruising that still marked his skin. “Easy,” I whispered. “Rest for a second. Just breathe.”

Matteo’s gaze softened, almost vulnerable for the first time in months. “I… scared you, didn’t I?”

“You can’t imagine,” I admitted. My voice cracked. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the faint scent of him, the mix of leather, gunpowder, and something unmistakably him. I clung to him like he was the last piece of solid ground left in my crumbling world.

“I thought… I’d lost you,” he murmured. “Lost both of you.”

“No. Never,” I whispered. “You’re here. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

A long silence settled between us, the storm outside mirroring the one inside my chest. My hands never left him, tracing the outline of his jaw, feeling the shallow rise and fall of his chest, memorizing every detail I had nearly lost forever.

“Tell me,” I said softly, “tell me you’re going to fight. That you’re not done yet.”

Matteo’s fingers twitched, brushing lightly over mine. “I… am not done.”

I swallowed a sob, relief and lingering fear tangling into one tight knot. “Good,” I breathed. “Because neither am I.”

\---

By the time we had Matteo stabilized—blood loss under control, wounds patched as best as possible in a safehouse that wasn’t a hospital—the rain had slowed to a drizzle, leaving the streets glistening with the aftermath. But there was no time to rest. Petrov had to be stopped, and we were dangerously exposed.

Louis and I worked in careful silence, loading weapons, checking the car, reviewing escape routes. Matteo had slumped against the wall, leaning heavily, every movement slow and deliberate, but his eyes never left mine.

“You’re not allowed to fight like that again,” I said, voice low, almost fierce.

“I don’t… make rules,” he murmured, a shadow of that smirk playing across his bruised lips. “You know me.”

I shook my head, exasperation and fear warring in my chest. “I do know you. And I also know that if you die, I don’t think I’ll survive.”

He looked at me then, really looked, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The danger, the fear, the violence—it all faded. It was just us, and the unspoken confessions hanging between us like fragile glass.

“You’ve got fire,” he said softly. “I’ve seen it since the moment I met you. Never let it go out.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. “I won’t. Not while you’re alive.”

His hand, trembling slightly, reached for mine. The gesture was small, but it carried more weight than anything he had ever said. “You keep me alive,” he murmured, “just by being here.”

I pressed my forehead to his, words catching in my throat. “You’re staying. You have to stay.”

\---

Hours passed, and Matteo finally slept, exhaustion claiming him like a tide. I sat beside him, vigil held with unwavering focus, until the first hints of dawn crept through the cracked blinds of the safehouse.

Callum stirred then, wandering down the stairs, clutching his wolf plush, eyes wide and anxious. “Momma… Matteo?”

I lifted him into my lap, holding him close. “He’s sleeping, baby. He’s going to be okay.”

“But he’s hurt,” Callum whispered, brow furrowed. “He’s bleeding…”

“Yes,” I admitted, pressing a kiss to his curls. “But he’s strong. He’s going to be okay because we’re going to take care of him.”

Callum hugged me tightly, and I could feel the weight of the world pressing down through him too. He was just a child, but he already bore more than any child should. And yet, in that moment, I felt something fragile but unbreakable. The bond between us. Between all three of us.

I glanced down at Matteo, his dark hair damp, face pale but peaceful. My chest ached with love, fear, and something I’d spent months denying: hope.

We didn’t have long. Petrov would be back on the move. His network had been crippled tonight, but revenge was only a matter of time. And I knew, deep in my bones, that we had to finish this—once and for all.

\---

Later that morning, Matteo stirred again. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the weak sunlight filtering through the blinds. “I feel… like hell,” he rasped.

“You look like it,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the exhaustion and tension. “But we fixed you… mostly.”

He coughed, wincing at the stitches and bruising, then leaned back against the wall. “I should’ve… listened.”

“You always think you can handle it alone,” I said, voice sharp but not unkind. “But not this time. Not with him,” I said, brushing a hand over Callum’s curls.

He followed my gesture, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I see him… in you. Fire, determination… and stubbornness.”

I laughed softly, a sound that felt almost foreign in the aftermath of terror. “You’re not wrong.”

He leaned closer, pain and resolve etched across his face. “We finish this today,” he murmured. “No more hiding. No more ambushes. Petrov… it ends tonight.”

I nodded, heart hammering. “Agreed. But first…” My voice softened, heavy with emotion. “We make sure Callum is safe. That’s non-negotiable.”

Matteo’s eyes softened, the faintest shimmer of something unspoken passing between us. “Always.”

\---

By late afternoon, we had regrouped. Weapons reloaded. Maps spread across the table. Surveillance reports reviewed. Louis, exhausted but alert, looked at us like we were either utterly insane or the most determined people on the planet.

“He’s moving his remaining assets to the West Side,” Louis reported. “We’ve got a window. Small, but it’s there. If we hit fast and precise, we can cut him off before he regroups.”

I exchanged a glance with Matteo, the bond unspoken but undeniable. “We do this together,” I said. “All of us.”

“All of us,” Matteo echoed, voice firm, dark, unwavering.

The plan was simple in its brutality: isolate Petrov, take out his lieutenants, destroy his remaining resources, and force him into a corner. But simple didn’t mean easy. And nothing about our world was ever easy.

\---

Night fell again, the city cloaked in shadows. Matteo, though still fragile, moved with careful precision, every step calculated. I stayed close, side by side, our movements silent but synchronized. Louis and the remaining men flanked us, weapons ready, nerves taut.

We approached the warehouse district where Petrov had holed up. The air was thick with rain-soaked fog, every shadow a potential threat, every distant sound a warning.

“Ready?” Matteo asked, voice low, steady.

I nodded, gripping my weapon tightly. “Ready.”

He glanced at me, eyes lingering just long enough for a flicker of something intimate—trust, fear, and a promise all tangled together. Then the world contracted, and all that mattered was the next step, the next target, the next breath.

And I knew, without a doubt, that whatever came next, we faced it together. Fire, blood, and love interwoven in a tapestry of survival, vengeance, and something dangerously tender between us.

Because tonight… Petrov would either fall… or we would.

And I wasn’t about to let him survive.