CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fault Lines
The safe house was smaller. Quieter. Too clean.
Seraphina hated it instantly.
It sat on the outskirts of the city, hidden behind a shell of normalcy. White walls. Minimal furniture. Security so subtle it screamed paranoia. This place wasn't built to live in. It was built to wait.
And waiting was where people unraveled.
Matteo locked the door behind them and checked the perimeter without a word. He moved like muscle memory and instinct had fused long ago. Efficient. Controlled.
Too controlled.
She watched him from the corner of the room, arms folded.
You can breathe, she said.
He did not turn.
I am breathing.
That is not what I meant.
He finally faced her.
I cannot afford to relax.
She tilted her head.
You reassigned yourself to babysitting duty. That sounds like sacrifice.
That sounds like punishment.
She winced.
Alessandro did not send you away to hurt you.
Matteo's mouth twitched humorlessly.
He sent me away so he would not have to look at what I am thinking.
And what is that.
That if Rome comes through that door, I will kill every man in this house before they reach you.
Her chest tightened.
That is not loyalty.
That is obsession.
He did not deny it.
Outside, rain began to fall. Soft at first. Then harder. Like the sky had finally chosen a side.
She moved closer.
You think he does not feel the same way.
Matteo looked at her sharply.
He feels possession. That is different.
You think love cannot be dangerous.
I think love does not demand silence.
That landed.
He turned away again.
You should not be here with me alone.
She laughed softly.
That ship sailed when he put us in the same car.
Do not tempt fate.
She stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat of him.
You are not fate, Matteo. You are a man making choices.
His voice dropped.
So are you.
The air thickened.
She could feel it now. The tension had teeth.
Do you want me to leave, she asked quietly.
Yes.
Do you want me to stay.
He closed his eyes.
Yes.
The honesty cracked something open between them.
She stepped back.
Then we both need to be smarter.
He opened his eyes.
Being smart does not stop wanting.
No. But it stops acting on it.
He looked at her like that was the cruelest thing she could have said.
Hours passed in a heavy silence.
She sat on the couch with a book she did not read. He stood by the window like a guard statue carved from regret.
Night deepened.
Then the phone rang.
Matteo answered instantly.
Yes.
A pause.
Understood.
He hung up and turned to her.
Alessandro is coming.
Her stomach dropped.
Now.
Yes.
She stood.
Is something wrong.
No, Matteo said carefully. Something shifted.
Alessandro arrived less than thirty minutes later.
He entered without greeting, rain still clinging to his coat, eyes sharp and alive in that way that meant violence had narrowly missed him.
He took in the room in one sweep.
You are unharmed.
She nodded.
Then his gaze cut to Matteo.
Any contact.
No.
Any movement.
Negative.
Good.
He turned back to her.
We leave at dawn.
Again.
She exhaled.
Running forever is not strategy.
No. But it is survival.
She studied him.
You came yourself.
I do not delegate when Rome breathes too close.
Matteo shifted subtly.
Boss, there is something else.
Alessandro's eyes flicked to him.
Speak.
We intercepted a message. Internal channel. Someone inside is leaking movement schedules.
The room went still.
Alessandro's expression did not change.
Names.
Not yet.
Seraphina felt the ground tilt.
You think it is one of your men.
I know it is.
Matteo's jaw clenched.
I will find them.
You will not interrogate anyone alone.
That was an order.
Alessandro looked at Seraphina again.
Pack only essentials.
She did not move.
No.
Both men turned to her.
I am done being moved like cargo, she said. If someone inside is selling us out, then I am the reason they are getting paid.
You are the reason they will die when I find them, Alessandro snapped.
She stepped closer to him.
And until then, I am bait.
Absolutely not.
Then stop lying to yourself.
Her voice softened.
You cannot protect me from everything.
He grabbed her wrist.
I can try.
And in trying, you will destroy everything around you.
Silence stretched.
Matteo watched them like a man watching two fires edge toward the same fuel source.
Alessandro released her.
You think standing still will solve this.
No. But I think hiding will make it worse.
She met his gaze.
Let me help.
He laughed darkly.
You are not built for this war.
I grew up in it.
Not like this.
I watched my father die because men thought women were leverage, she said quietly. I learned early how to survive power games.
That landed harder than shouting.
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
Matteo spoke.
She is right.
Both of them turned.
Boss, Rome is baiting emotional reactions. If we keep running, we look weak. If we anchor and flush the leak, we regain control.
Alessandro stared at him.
You are siding with her.
I am siding with strategy.
A beat.
Then Alessandro nodded once.
We anchor.
Relief and fear crashed through Seraphina simultaneously.
Alessandro stepped close to her.
But hear me clearly.
If you do this, you do it under my rules.
She lifted her chin.
Name them.
You stay in my sight.
Fine.
You do not speak privately to Matteo.
Matteo stiffened.
Her breath caught.
She looked at Alessandro.
That is not strategy. That is insecurity.
He leaned down.
That is survival.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
Fine.
Matteo said nothing.
But something broke quietly in his eyes.
Later, after Alessandro left to coordinate security, Seraphina found Matteo back at the window.
I did not agree to that rule, he said.
I know.
She stood beside him.
I am sorry.
Do not apologize.
He turned to her.
This is not about rules. It is about lines.
I know.
And we are standing on the wrong side of one.
She met his gaze.
Then step back.
He laughed softly.
You first.
They stood there, inches apart, neither moving.
Outside, the rain stopped.
Inside, the fault lines deepened.
And somewhere in the shadows of Alessandro's empire, someone watched the triangle tighten.
Waiting for the moment it snapped.