Chapter 36: CHAPTER 36 — POV: Lilianna
The world outside Matteo’s safehouse felt unnaturally still. As if the city itself were holding its breath, waiting for a gunshot, a scream, a collapse. Waiting for us to fall apart.
Inside, everything vibrated with tension.
Matteo’s men cleaned weapons in the living room. Louis stalked the halls with his jaw clenched and murder simmering beneath his skin. Even the air tasted metallic, sharp, like the storm of violence gathering on the horizon.
And Matteo…
God.
Matteo stood in the center of the bedroom, hands braced on the edge of the dresser, eyes locked on his reflection like he was studying a stranger. The healing wounds across his chest were visible beneath the half-open shirt he refused to button. His hair was damp from the shower. His breathing shallow and controlled.
Too controlled.
Controlled men were always one second away from breaking.
I lingered in the doorway, watching him. Studying the rigid line of his spine. The subtle tremor in his hands. The storm behind his eyes.
He sensed me before I spoke, head lifting, gaze flicking to the mirror—catching mine.
“You’re awake,” I said softly.
His shoulders rose and fell. “Sleep isn’t an option tonight.”
Neither was peace. Not for either of us.
I moved closer, slow, careful. As if approaching a wounded animal—one with teeth sharp enough to tear me open and a heart I was terrified of losing.
“You shouldn’t be standing,” I murmured.
Matteo’s mouth curved into a humorless smile. “I’ve been shot worse.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is, Lilianna?” His voice roughened, something dark and dangerous threading through it. “Tell me. Because I’m starting to think you won’t unless I drag it out of you.”
I swallowed.
This was the moment I’d been trying to avoid since he collapsed on that kitchen table. Since the words he’d whispered—I know he’s mine—burned themselves into my memory.
“You almost died,” I said, the words trembling despite my best effort to hide it.
“And yet I didn’t.”
“That’s not a comfort.”
“It should be,” Matteo muttered. “It means I’m still here. It means I can handle what comes next.”
I stepped beside him, meeting his reflection head-on.
“You think this is about Petrov,” I whispered. “Or the warehouse. Or the ambush. Or the shots you took.”
His jaw tightened.
“And it’s not?” he asked.
“It’s about the truth.”
Silence. Heavy. Thick.
Matteo turned from the mirror, facing me fully now, eyes burning with a heat that made my knees weak.
“The truth,” he echoed. “Finally.”
I exhaled, my chest tight, my heart pounding so violently it hurt.
“I should have told you about Callum sooner,” I began.
“No,” Matteo said sharply, stepping close enough that I felt his breath on my lips. “You should’ve told me from the beginning.”
Anger pulsed under his tone—not explosive, not cruel. Controlled. Twisted with hurt. And somehow, that was worse.
I didn’t flinch. “I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?” His voice cracked, just slightly. “Why did you think I didn’t deserve to know he existed?”
My breath hitched.
“I didn’t say you didn’t deserve it. I said you weren’t ready.”
“Not ready?” Matteo barked a cold laugh. “I’ve taken bullets without blinking. I’ve walked into fire for you. But I wasn’t ready to know I had a son?”
My throat tightened. “You didn’t want a family then. You said it yourself. You didn’t want any kind of life outside the business.”
“That was before you left.”
“And Callum was conceived before I left,” I said quietly. “I found out after everything exploded. After the betrayal. After the blood. After you burned the last bridge we had.”
Matteo froze.
His eyes softened. Barely. But I saw it.
“Lilianna…” he murmured.
“I didn’t hide him to punish you,” I whispered. “I hid him because I loved him. And because I knew if you knew he existed, he’d be a target. He’d have a mark on his back before he even took his first breath.”
Matteo’s throat worked.
“And now?” he asked hoarsely. “Now that I know? Does the threat go away? Or do you think I can’t protect my own child?”
Tears burned behind my eyes. I forced them back.
“It’s not about what you can do,” I murmured. “It’s about what I couldn’t risk.”
Matteo reached for me—slow, deliberate—fingers brushing my jaw. The slightest touch, but it shattered me.
“Do you know what killed me the most?” he whispered. “Lying there, bleeding out, thinking I wouldn’t make it?”
I shook my head, breath unsteady.
“That I’d die before I got to look him in the eyes and tell him he’s mine.”
My heart splintered.
“Matteo…”
He leaned in, forehead touching mine, breath hot and uneven.
“You kept him from me,” he murmured. “But I understand why. And I’m angry. And I’m relieved. And I’m terrified.” His voice lowered. “But more than anything, I’m not letting you run from me again.”
“I’m not running,” I said softly.
“You will,” he muttered. “When things get worse. And they will.” His fingers gripped my chin gently, forcing my eyes to stay matched with his. “But this time, I’m running with you.”
A shaky laugh escaped me.
“That’s not how running works.”
“It is for us.”
I felt it—something shifting between us. Something deep and dangerous and inevitable.
But the moment broke when Louis slammed the bedroom door open.
“Matteo—we have a problem.”
Matteo didn’t look away from me immediately. His hand stayed on my jaw for a beat too long. And when he finally turned, the softness vanished. The don slid back into place.
“What now?” Matteo asked.
Louis exhaled, face grim. “Petrov’s men. A whole convoy. Heading this way.”
My stomach dropped.
“How long?” Matteo asked.
“Fifteen minutes. Twenty at most.”
Matteo straightened, grabbed his gun, and turned to me.
“You stay with Callum. Louis will barricade the room.”
“No,” I snapped. “I’m fighting.”
“Lilianna,” Matteo warned.
“I’m fighting,” I repeated. “This is my war too.”
His expression hardened—anger and fear battling inside him.
Then, slowly, Matteo nodded.
“Fine. Stay close to me.”
His fingers brushed mine, almost unconsciously.
And I knew—
The night was about to drown in blood.
But this time, we weren’t standing on opposite sides of the fire.
We were stepping into it together.