The moment Tom's eyes locked onto Vinny again, that sickening smile stretched across his lips.
Not admiration.
Not affection.
Obsession—pure, twisted, ravenous.
"Vinny…" Tom breathed, almost reverent. "I knew you'd come with him. You always follow him around like a shadow."
Vinny scoffed, crossing his arms.
"Or maybe I just wanted to see the idiot who keeps trying to buy what he can't have."
Matthew tensed beside him, pride flickering through his eyes despite the fury boiling beneath his skin.
Tom chuckled.
"Oh, Vinny… that edge. That fire. That's what I've always liked about you."
Matthew moved before Vinny could blink—stepping in front of him, fist drawn back, ready to flatten Tom's skull.
"Say one more word like that," Matthew growled, "and I'll—"
But Tom didn't flinch.
He didn't step back.
He didn't even blink.
He simply said one word.
"Aiden."
Everything stopped.
Vinny's breath froze in his chest.
Matthew's fist lowered.
Even the guards stiffened.
Tom grinned wider, delighted by the reaction.
Vinny's voice cracked out.
"Don't. Say. His name."
"Oh?" Tom stepped closer, completely ignoring the way Matthew blocked him. "Why not? He talks about you constantly."
Vinny's world tilted.
Matthew snapped. "You don't know his brother. Don't lie just to get under his skin."
Tom raised a brow.
"Oh, but I do."
Vinny felt his stomach drop.
Tom's next words sliced the air like a knife.
"In fact… he's at my mansion."
Vinny went white.
Matthew inhaled sharply.
No.
No, that wasn't possible.
Aiden was missing—yes—but dead, gone, vanished…
Not this.
Vinny forced out the words, voice trembling despite the fury beneath.
"What did you do to him?"
Tom tilted his head, as if amused by the question.
"What haven't I done?"
Matthew lunged at him—but Vinny grabbed Matthew's arm, stopping him.
His voice was ragged.
"Let him talk."
Matthew stared at him—tormented—but stopped.
Tom's eyes shined with something sick.
"He's in my guest wing. Very comfortable accommodations. Warm. Quiet. He never causes trouble anymore."
Vinny's nails dug into his palms.
"You chained him," Vinny whispered. Not a question. A certainty.
Tom smiled like it was a compliment.
"I had to. He kept trying to run. Kept screaming your name." He shrugged casually. "He wouldn't calm down until I sedated him."
Matthew's hand shook. Shook.
The calmest man in the room looked ready to commit murder.
Tom continued—because of course he did.
"And the resemblance is uncanny… especially when he cries. Sometimes, when the light hits him right, I almost forget he's not you."
Vinny's vision blurred with red.
Matthew stepped forward, voice shaking with unleashed rage.
"You sick—"
Tom pressed a finger to his own lips.
"Let me finish."
Vinny couldn't breathe.
Aiden.
Drugged.
Chained.
Alone.
The images were too much.
Tom spoke softly now, almost tender.
"I even dress him in your style. Your colors. Your silhouette. But…"
His smile twisted.
"It's not the same thing."
Vinny broke then—not into tears—but into pure, boiling, murderous fury.
"You're dead," Vinny whispered. "You're actually dead, Tom. I will burn your mansion to the ground with you in it."
Tom laughed, delighted.
"There it is. The passion I wanted."
Matthew grabbed Vinny's wrist—not to restrain him, but to steady him.
He was shaking violently.
Tom leaned back casually.
"If you want him alive," Tom said, "you'll come to me. Both of you."
Matthew stepped forward slowly—quietly—his voice lower than Vinny had ever heard.
"You'll give me his location. Now."
Tom smiled like a cat with a throat in its teeth.
"Oh, Matthew… Mercato king or not, you don't get to demand anything from me."
He leaned in, whispering.
"I hold your lover's brother. I hold the leash. Not you."
Vinny's eyes snapped up—fiery, furious.
"Matthew," Vinny breathed, trembling, "let me go."
Matthew's grip didn't loosen.
"No."
Vinny looked up sharply.
"You think I can just stand here and listen to him talk about Aiden like that?!"
Matthew's jaw twitched.
"I'm not letting you throw yourself at him. He wants that."
Tom clapped once, amused.
"Ah, Matthew… always so protectively adorable."
Vinny lunged at him—Matthew caught him around the waist, dragging him back.
"Vinny—stop—"
"LET GO! LET ME AT HIM—"
Tom grinned, enjoying every second of it.
"Careful, Matthew," Tom sang, "If you hold him too tightly, he might prefer my chains again."
Matthew lost it.
He shoved Vinny behind him—actually shoved—and slammed Tom into the wall with both hands around his throat.
"You ever say his name again," Matthew hissed, "and I'll gut you."
Tom didn't fight back.
He just smiled.
"You'll come for him," Tom rasped, voice tight from Matthew's grip. "You won't have a choice. Not if you want Aiden breathing."
Vinny stepped forward, voice low and deadly.
"I'm coming," he whispered.
"And when I take Aiden back, you better pray Matthew gets to you before I do."
Tom's eyes glimmered.
"I look forward to it."
Matthew shoved him away in disgust.
As Tom exited the room—escorted by guards who looked like they'd seen a demon—Vinny finally collapsed onto his knees, breath shaking violently.
Matthew was on the ground beside him instantly, hands on his shoulders.
"Vinny—Vinny, look at me—"
Vinny looked up, eyes burning with something Matthew had never seen before.
"I'm getting Aiden back," Vinny said. "Even if I die doing it."
Matthew cupped his face, voice fierce.
"You're not dying," he said.
"Because I'm going with you."
Vinny swallowed hard.
For the first time…
He didn't argue.
Vinny spread the blueprints across the enormous desk with trembling hands.
Every hallway, every escape route, every security camera in Tom's mansion was printed in red ink.
His eyes scanned every line with cold, burning focus.
Matthew watched him from the doorway.
Vinny hadn't slept.
He hadn't eaten.
His skin held a faint tremor—rage, terror, exhaustion—yet he still forced himself to stand tall.
Matthew exhaled slowly.
"Vinny. Sit for a moment."
"We don't have time—"
"We do," Matthew cut in gently.
"We have the whole night to plan. You can breathe."
But Vinny shook his head sharply.
"If I stop, I'll picture Aiden chained in some room—drugged—alone. And I'm going to lose it."
Matthew's jaw tightened.
He walked forward without another word, took Vinny's wrist, and guided him toward the couch.
Vinny resisted at first.
Then something in him cracked—just a little—and he let Matthew pull him down.
Matthew left the room for exactly ten seconds.
When he came back, he was holding two steaming mugs.
Vinny blinked.
"Is that… coffee?"
Matthew gave a small nod.
"I made it myself."
Vinny stared.
"You don't even drink coffee."
"No." Matthew sat beside him, pushing the warm mug into his hands. "But you do."
Vinny swallowed, throat tight.
The aroma alone made his eyes sting.
He held the cup with both hands, staring into it like it was some fragile miracle.
Matthew spoke first.
"We'll enter from the east wing. The guards rotate every thirteen minutes. Tom switched his pattern two weeks ago—it's predictable."
Vinny nodded, sipping shakily.
"Okay… okay, that's good. We can use—"
His voice wavered.
The mug clinked against the saucer from the tremor in his fingers.
Matthew set his own coffee aside and leaned closer.
"Vinny."
Vinny's eyes snapped shut.
"I can't…" His voice cracked. "I keep seeing him. Scared. Calling for me. And I—I wasn't there—"
Matthew cupped his cheek gently.
"Stop."
Vinny opened his eyes, breath shattering.
"You're here now," Matthew said softly. "And we'll get him back. Alive."
Vinny tried to hold it together.
He failed.
A single tear escaped.
Then another.
He wiped them quickly, almost angrily.
"I don't cry," Vinny muttered, huffing. "I don't—this is stupid—"
Matthew caught his wrists before he could scrub harder.
"Let them fall," Matthew whispered. "Just this once."
Vinny's breath hitched—and suddenly tears slid silently down his cheeks.
Matthew pulled him in.
Vinny stiffened for a heartbeat before his forehead dropped against Matthew's shoulder, his fingers clutching the man's shirt.
Matthew wrapped both arms around him firmly.
Protective.
Possessive.
Steady.
Vinny's tears soaked into Matthew's collarbone, but Matthew didn't flinch.
He held him like a man holding the only thing anchoring him to sanity.
After a long, trembling minute, Vinny whispered:
"You really think we can save him?"
Matthew's lips brushed the top of his head.
"I swear it."
Vinny leaned back, looking up at him.
His face was still wet, but his eyes were blazing with determination and grief.
Matthew wiped a tear from his cheek with his thumb.
"I hate seeing you cry," he murmured.
Vinny rolled his eyes faintly, still shaky.
"Then stop making me do it."
Matthew actually smiled—soft, aching.
Then he leaned down.
The kiss wasn't frantic.
Wasn't heated.
Not like before.
It was slow.
Steady.
A promise pressed into skin.
Vinny's breath stilled as Matthew's lips brushed his—once, twice—then deepened the kiss gently, coaxing him into it.
Vinny's trembling stopped.
His hands slid up Matthew's chest, gripping lightly as he kissed back, steady but desperate.
When they finally parted, Matthew rested his forehead against Vinny's.
"Tomorrow," Matthew whispered, "I'm going to take back everything Tom stole from you."
Vinny exhaled shakily.
"Not for me," he said.
"For Aiden."
Matthew gave a quiet nod.
"Then for him."
Vinny's lips brushed Matthew's lightly again—short, trembling—before they both returned to the desk.
For the rest of the night, they planned together silently, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
Every glance between them held a quiet fire.
Every second built tension.
Every breath was a promise.
Meanwhile — Tom's Mansion
The heavy door clicked open.
Aiden flinched at the sound of footsteps entering the dim room.
Tom stepped inside with a slow, pleased smile—carrying a glass of something clear and cold.
The chain around Aiden's ankle rattled when he unconsciously backed away.
Tom crouched in front of him, setting the glass down.
"You know," he said conversationally, "Vinny came to see me today."
Aiden's breath hitched.
Tom smiled wider—sickeningly gentle.
"He looked beautiful when I told him about you. He didn't cry at all. He smiled, actually."
Tom leaned in closer.
"He was happy to hear you were suffering."
Aiden shook his head weakly.
"N-No… that's not true…"
Tom stroked his cheek almost tenderly.
"Oh, but it is. He said it was better this way. Better for him if you stayed with me."
Aiden's eyes filled with terror.
Tom stood, rolling up his sleeves.
"Now," he said softly.
"You know what to do."
Aiden trembled but obeyed, because the consequences of refusing were worse than the obedience.
Tom smiled in satisfaction.
"Good boy."
The door shut behind them.