Betray Me Gently
996 Words
It was almost beautiful.
The quiet before death.
The morning fog curled around the mountains like a sleeping god, soft and pale. Lena stood on the edge of the safehouse porch wrapped in Matteo’s hoodie, her eyes on the horizon—but her mind was nowhere near it.
Last night still lingered on her skin.
The way he’d touched her like she was both fragile and fire.
But something felt... wrong today.
He hadn't spoken much. He hadn't smiled at all.
She turned as Matteo stepped outside, gun holstered, phone in hand. His expression was unreadable—guarded, like he'd layered steel over his bones again.
“Matteo?”
He stopped beside her. Didn't look her in the eye.
“I have to go,” he said.
Panic surged in her chest. “Go where?”
“I need to throw them off our trail. I’ll head south, plant some things, leave signs. You’ll stay here.”
“No,” she said immediately, gripping his arm. “No, we stay together. You said—”
“I know what I said,” he interrupted, gently but firmly. “But this is bigger than us now.”
She stared at him, heart pounding. “You’re scared.”
He didn’t deny it.
“That call last night… it was from Vincenzo, wasn’t it?”
His jaw clenched. “Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Matteo looked at her then, and there was something in his eyes that made her stomach twist.
“He said he knows.”
The world went still.
“And?” she whispered.
“He’s giving me one last chance.”
Her throat closed. “To kill me.”
He nodded once.
“And will you?” Her voice cracked. “Will you be a soldier or a man?”
He stepped close, lifted her face.
“I already made my choice,” he said. “But if I don’t go now, they’ll find this place. And they won’t hesitate like I did.”
Tears burned behind her eyes.
“When will you come back?”
“Tonight. I swear it.”
“You better,” she whispered. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come find you myself. And I’ll make you fall in love with me all over again.”
His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Too late.”
He kissed her—hard. Like it was goodbye.
Then disappeared into the trees.
---
That night, he didn’t return.
Lena paced the cabin like a caged animal, a knife tucked in her boot and fear rattling in her ribs. The silence outside wasn’t peaceful anymore. It was wrong.
Every creak of the old wood made her flinch.
Every gust of wind sounded like footsteps.
And then—
She heard them.
Engines.
Not one. Three.
Headlights slashed through the trees like knives.
Lena grabbed Matteo’s gun from the dresser, heart hammering. Her fingers trembled as she slid the magazine into place.
The front door exploded open.
And her father walked in.
Giovanni Moretti.
Flanked by armed men, slick in a designer suit, his silver hair slicked back like a serpent.
“Put it down, Lena,” he said smoothly.
She didn’t.
“I said put it down,” he repeated, louder now.
She stared at him—this man she hadn’t seen in months. The man who left her to rot in that cell.
“You didn’t come for me,” she whispered.
“I couldn’t negotiate with terrorists,” he replied coldly. “But I can kill the man who took you.”
Her stomach turned.
“He didn’t take me,” she said. “He saved me.”
Giovanni’s eyes hardened. “You sound like a foolish girl.”
“I sound like someone who knows the truth.”
He stepped forward.
And she pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
Her breath hitched.
Giovanni smiled. “You really thought he left you with a loaded gun?”
Her hands shook.
And then he said it.
“The boy betrayed you, Lena. Just like I said he would.”
---
They didn’t kill her.
They dragged her back to the Moretti estate—her childhood prison—and locked her in her old room like she was a teenager grounded for breaking curfew.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t sleep.
She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, Matteo’s name like a broken prayer in her throat.
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
But he had.
Hadn’t he?
---
Three days later, she found out the truth.
The guards were whispering.
Matteo had been caught.
By his own family.
Dragged back to Ricci territory in chains, beaten half to death.
And yet—
He never gave her up.
Not her location. Not their escape plan. Not even her name.
They tortured him for two days.
On the third day, he escaped.
Alone.
Bleeding.
Raging.
And then—he vanished.
---
That night, Lena stood by her bedroom window, watching the storm roll in.
Rain pounded against the glass like war drums.
She closed her eyes.
“Matteo,” she whispered, “please… come back.”
---
The window shattered.
She screamed—but a hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shh,” came the voice she’d dreamed of for days. “It’s me.”
Her eyes flew open.
Matteo.
Drenched in rain. Bloodied. Eyes blazing. He looked like death and salvation all at once.
“Did you betray me?” she choked.
“No.”
“Did you leave me to die?”
“Never.”
She punched him in the chest. Once. Twice.
Then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like he was oxygen.
He pulled her close, hands in her hair, mouth devouring hers.
“I’m going to burn this entire world down,” he whispered. “But not until I get you out.”
“Then do it,” she said. “Burn it all.”
- Writer
