CHAPTER 19 – Hide and Seek
1051 Words
The journey to Matteo’s secret stronghold began before dawn.
Elena helped Rosa pack supplies while Luca loaded weapons, fuel, and emergency bags into the armored SUV. Matteo insisted on walking to the car himself, even though every step strained his freshly stitched wounds.
“Stubborn,” Elena muttered under her breath as she hurried to support him.
“Determined,” Matteo corrected, wincing as she helped him into the back seat.
“Stubborn is when I ignore you. Determined is when I listen enough to survive.”
She crossed her arms. “You call this listening?”
He smirked—just slightly. “It’s progress.”
Donatella fastened her seatbelt, rolling her eyes. “If the two of you start flirting again, I’m throwing myself out of the car.”
The drive lasted hours.
They passed through silent industrial zones, through abandoned farmlands, down dirt paths that barely qualified as roads. The farther they went, the more the world disappeared—until modern life was nothing but a memory behind them.
Finally, they reached a rusted gate hidden beneath overgrown vine.
Luca punched in a long code.
Gears clanked.
Metal groaned.
The gate slid open.
Elena’s eyes widened.
Beyond the walls was a sprawling stone compound, surrounded by cliffs, mountains, and thick forest. It looked ancient—yet fortified with modern defenses: cameras nestled in trees, motion sensors, reinforced shutters.
“Welcome,” Matteo murmured, “to the one place even gods would have trouble breaking into.”
She shivered.
“Does Il Corvo know it exists?”
“No,” Donatella said. “The only people who do are sitting in this car.”
Rosa added quietly, “Not even some of Matteo’s men have clearance here.”
Elena swallowed.
So this was more than a hideout.
More than a safe house.
It was Matteo’s deepest secret.
His final sanctuary.
And he had brought her here.
Inside the Fortress
The interior was surprisingly warm.
Fireplaces.
Dark wood.
Soft, worn rugs.
A kitchen that smelled faintly of rosemary and old stories.
An entire wing that seemed intended for children—books, toys, soft blankets, untouched for years.
She hesitated at the doorway.
Matteo watched her.
Carefully.
Quietly.
“You built this?” she asked softly.
He looked away. “Not exactly.”
Rosa stepped in. “This was your mother’s safe house.”
Elena gasped. “Your mother?”
Matteo nodded once.
Emotion flickered across his eyes—quick, guarded.
“She wanted a place where her children could grow up without the shadow of the world we were born into,” he said quietly.
“She didn’t get the chance.”
Elena touched the wall.
It felt heavy with memory.
“You’re bringing us here,” she whispered, “because you want our child safe.”
He met her gaze steadily.
“And because I trust you with the only place in my life that still feels like home.”
Her breath caught.
Matteo looked at her like she was something he never expected to deserve.
By evening, Rosa settled Matteo in one of the large bedrooms. Elena insisted on staying with him, but Matteo shook his head.
“You need rest,” he said.
“You’re carrying our child. You should sleep.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re injured.”
“I’ve been shot before.”
“Not on my watch,” she snapped. “Move over.”
He blinked—caught off guard.
“Elena, I can’t—”
“It’s a big bed,” she said, already climbing onto it.
“And you can’t even sit up without groaning, so don’t argue.”
He stared at her, stunned… then amused.
“You’re bossy.”
“You deserve it.”
He exhaled, half-laughing, half pained.
“Fair enough.”
She tucked the blankets around him, but when she tried to sleep a few inches away, he reached out weakly and caught her wrist.
“Elena,” he murmured, voice low, warm, aching.
“…Stay close.”
Her heart stumbled.
She moved toward him until her forehead rested against his shoulder. His arm wrapped protectively around her waist—careful of her belly.
Their breathing synced.
His scent… familiar.
His warmth… grounding.
His presence… everything she had missed.
She whispered, “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” he said truthfully.
“But you being here makes it bearable.”
She lifted her head slowly.
Their faces were inches apart.
“Matteo…” she breathed.
His eyes softened.
Darkened.
“Elena,” he whispered, voice thick, “I thought I lost you.”
“You almost did,” she whispered back.
Silence settled—heavy, charged, intimate.
She reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
He caught her hand, brought her palm to his lips, and kissed it long and slow.
Her breath hitched.
“Don’t leave again,” he said softly, his forehead touching hers.
“I can survive bullets. I can survive wars.
But I cannot survive losing you a second time.”
She whispered into his lips,
“You won’t.”
Their mouths met.
Gentle at first—
careful, slow, a promise.
Then deeper, fuller, desperate, hungry from months of separation.
Her fingers slid into his hair.
His hand cupped her cheek.
He kissed her like he needed the memory of her to stay alive.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Matteo brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.
“I love you,” he whispered—finally saying the truth he’d locked away for too long.
“I loved you even before I had the right to.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“And I loved you long before I admitted it,” she whispered back.
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth.
“Then stay,” he breathed.
“Through the danger. Through the war. Through everything.”
“I will,” she said. “Always.”
She nestled against him, his arm securing her protectively as sleep pulled them under.
For the first time in months, they slept without fear.
But outside the fortress walls a figure watched from the forest—shadowed, patient, waiting.
And by morning, a new threat would arrive that would shatter the fragile peace they had found.
- Writer
