Chapter 35: Shadows at the Door

The city hummed beneath them, a living thing pulsing with danger and whispered promises, but inside Matteo's world, it was Emilio's name that thundered the loudest.

It had been days since their last confrontation days of thick, smoldering glances, of touches that barely grazed skin but burned like open flame. Days where Matteo watched Emilio with the sharp patience of a wolf circling a wounded deer.

But tonight, the storm finally broke.

The attack came out of nowhere.

Emilio had just stepped out of the boutique, a package tucked under his arm something stupid Matteo had insisted he have, because "someone like you should be dressed like art, tesoro." Emilio had rolled his eyes at the time, but now, standing alone in the mouth of the alley next to the high-end shops, the box felt like a target painted on his back.

The first thug grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking him back hard. Emilio barely had time to react before another man swung at him, the blow glancing off his ribs. Pain burst through his side as he stumbled, his hands going up instinctively to shield himself.

"Pretty boy," one of them sneered. "Let's see what you're worth without your fancy little protector."

Fear flared white-hot inside Emilio, but beneath it shamefully, stupidly was something else.

Anger.

How dare they touch him?

How dare they think he was weak?

He ducked the next punch, his instincts kicking in hard and fast, but he was outnumbered and unarmed and despite all of Matteo's stupid "training," Emilio was no fighter.

He slammed against the alley wall, his breath rushing out in a gasp, just as one of the men grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back.

"You're gonna send a nice little message for us," the thug growled.

Emilio spat at him, a vicious snarl twisting his lips. "Tell your boss to go to hell."

The thug raised his hand and that's when the world cracked open.

A gunshot split the night.

The man holding Emilio dropped instantly, a look of stunned disbelief frozen on his face as he crumpled to the ground.

The others spun, weapons half-drawn, but it was already too late.

Matteo exploded into the alley like a demon unleashed, his gun barking twice more with deadly precision.

One.

Two.

The thugs fell before they even hit the ground, Matteo's movements smooth and merciless, every inch of him dripping rage.

And then he was there, catching Emilio before he could collapse.

"Tesoro," Matteo hissed, his hands scanning him quickly for injuries. "Where are you hurt? Tell me!"

Emilio blinked up at him, dazed and shaking but stubbornly standing on his own. "I'm fine," he lied through gritted teeth.

Matteo's eyes flashed murder.

"You're not fine," he growled. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," Emilio said, swaying slightly.

With a curse that sounded more like a prayer, Matteo scooped him up into his arms bridal style, without giving Emilio the chance to protest and carried him out of the alley like he weighed nothing.

The drive back to Matteo's penthouse was a blur of flashing lights and furious, muttered threats against every mafia family in the city. Matteo didn't put Emilio down until they were inside the sanctuary of his home.

Then, finally, he let Emilio slide down onto the couch, cupping his face between rough hands.

"If anything had happened to you..." Matteo said hoarsely, his forehead pressing against Emilio's, "I would have burned this city to the ground."

Emilio sucked in a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he fisted them in Matteo's expensive suit jacket. "I didn't need saving," he whispered, half defiant, half broken.

Matteo gave a harsh laugh not mocking, but raw.

"Of course you didn't," he murmured, brushing a kiss across Emilio's forehead. "But you're mine to protect anyway."

Emilio closed his eyes, letting himself lean into Matteo's touch just for a second. Just until the fear in his chest loosened.

Matteo pulled back just enough to look at him, his gaze burning. "You listen to me, bello. From now on, you don't go anywhere without me. You don't breathe without me knowing where you are."

"You sound insane," Emilio rasped.

Matteo smiled, slow and deadly. "I am. When it comes to you."

The words sank into Emilio's chest, heavy and terrifying and addicting all at once.

Maybe he should have been scared.

Maybe he should have run.

But all he did was lean up, fisting his hands in Matteo's shirt, and pull him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

And Matteo kissed him back like he'd been waiting for this moment his entire life.

Like he had no intention of ever letting him go.