The Devil You know

Chapter 5: The Devil You Know

(First-Person POV: Alessia)

By the time I returned to the estate after my strange, smoke-filled conversation with Matteo, my thoughts were a mess. His words—everything is at stake—played on an endless loop in my mind. What exactly did he mean by "everything"? Was he referring to his empire? His family? His precious sense of control?

Somehow, I doubted Matteo De Luca had anything resembling a personal side.

And yet, I couldn't shake the memory of the brief flicker of vulnerability I'd seen behind his cold mask. It had been so fleeting that I almost questioned if I'd imagined it. But no, it had been there, and it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

The grand hall of the estate was quiet when I walked inside. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. The massive chandelier above cast shimmering patterns on the marble floor as I wandered aimlessly through the labyrinth of opulence.

Nico, ever the dutiful shadow, trailed a few paces behind me. His footsteps were softer than mine, a silent reminder that I was never truly alone.

"Do you ever get tired of this?" I asked suddenly, turning to face him.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Of what?"

"Of watching me. Following orders. Being Matteo's lapdog."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Careful, Signorina," he said evenly. "I may follow orders, but that doesn't mean I don't have a mind of my own."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's advice."

I arched a brow, crossing my arms. "Advice," I repeated, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Why does everyone in this house talk in riddles?"

"Because nothing is as simple as it seems." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning I couldn't quite decipher.

Before I could press him further, the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hall.

Matteo.

He strode into the room like he owned not just the house, but the very air we breathed. His tailored suit clung to his frame in a way that made him look both regal and predatory, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Nico, leave us," Matteo commanded without looking in his direction.

Nico inclined his head and slipped out silently, leaving me alone with Matteo.

I crossed my arms tighter, bracing myself for whatever came next. "Let me guess—you've got another cryptic warning for me."

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Do you ever stop talking, or do you enjoy pushing people until they snap?"

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze with mock innocence. "I wasn't aware I had that much power over you."

For a fleeting moment, something flashed in his eyes—amusement? Frustration? I couldn't tell. But when he spoke again, his voice was low, almost a growl. "You'd be surprised."

The intensity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, but I refused to let him see it.

"What do you want, Matteo?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I want you to listen," he said, his gaze locking onto mine. "You've spent every moment since you got here fighting me, but you don't understand the game you're playing. This isn't about you or me. It's about survival."

"I didn't ask to be part of your game," I snapped, my frustration bubbling over.

"Neither did I," he shot back, his voice sharp as a blade. "But here we are. And if you don't start acting like you belong here, you're going to get both of us killed."

The weight of his words settled in my chest like a stone, but I refused to back down. "Why do you care?" I challenged. "You've made it clear I'm just another piece on your chessboard."

For a moment, Matteo didn't respond. He simply stared at me, his dark eyes scanning my face as if searching for something. Then, in a voice so quiet it barely reached my ears, he said, "Because I'm the one who has to keep you alive."

That night, I lay awake in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling as Matteo's words echoed in my mind. I'm the one who has to keep you alive.

Was that supposed to be comforting? Or was it just another reminder of how trapped I was?

Luca's earlier warning came back to me—She's a loose thread. Was that how Matteo saw me? A burden to be managed?

And yet… there had been something in his voice tonight, something I couldn't quite name. It wasn't affection, but it wasn't indifference, either. It was as if I mattered to him—not as a person, necessarily, but as a responsibility.

The thought made me sick to my stomach.

The next morning, Matteo was gone.

I noticed it immediately when I came downstairs. The dining room was empty, the usual tension that clung to his presence replaced by an unsettling calm.

"Where is he?" I asked Nico when he appeared in the doorway.

"Business," he said curtly.

"What kind of business?"

"The kind you don't ask about."

I rolled my eyes, irritation bubbling to the surface. "Of course."

Still, I couldn't shake the unease that crept into my chest. Matteo had been a constant presence since I arrived, for better or worse. His sudden absence felt… wrong.

Hours passed, and I tried to distract myself with books, aimless walks in the garden, anything to keep my mind from wandering. But as the sun began to set, the sound of raised voices broke through the quiet.

I followed the noise, rounding the corner of the house just in time to see Matteo stepping out of a sleek black car.

My breath caught.

Blood spattered his crisp white shirt, staining the fabric in dark, ominous patches. His face was a storm of fury, his usual controlled demeanor shattered. Flanking him were two men, both armed and grim-faced.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He stopped mid-stride, his eyes snapping to mine. For a moment, I thought he might ignore me, but then he spoke, his voice low and rough.

"A reminder," he said, "that peace is always temporary."

My chest tightened. "Are you hurt?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it, and Matteo's eyes narrowed in surprise.

"No," he said after a moment, his tone softer. "It's not my blood."

I swallowed hard. "Then whose is it?"

He stepped closer, his dark presence overwhelming. "The kind of people who thought they could cross me."

There was no bravado in his words, no trace of his usual smirk. Just cold, hard truth.

For the first time, I realized just how dangerous Matteo De Luca truly was.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I was more afraid of him… or for him.