Vows in the Dark
1036 Words
They didn’t speak for a long time.
The forest held its breath around them. The sky was beginning to turn grey, and somewhere behind them, smoke curled from the direction of the destroyed cabin. Matteo had a scratch above his brow, and Lena’s arm was soaked with blood. But neither of them noticed the pain—not yet.
They were alive.
Barely.
Matteo stopped when they reached a small stream deep in the woods. He crouched, splashing water over his hands, then gently helped Lena sit on a mossy rock.
“Let me see,” he said, reaching for her arm.
She flinched, more out of reflex than pain. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
He tore a strip from his own shirt and began cleaning the wound, his fingers firm but tender. Lena hissed softly.
“Don’t be gentle,” she whispered. “It’ll hurt anyway.”
Matteo glanced at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “I wasn’t trained to be gentle.”
“You weren’t trained for me.”
A long pause. Then, his voice like gravel, “No. I wasn’t.”
They locked eyes. And for a moment, the woods fell away. The war, the betrayal, the blood—they were just man and woman. Flesh and fire.
But the world didn’t pause for love.
Matteo’s phone buzzed—a burner, one he thought was untraceable. His jaw tightened as he read the message:
“MIA. Target escaped. Orders to capture or kill. Father is en route.”
He crushed the phone in his hand and tossed the pieces into the stream.
“They’re not stopping,” he said.
Lena wiped the blood from her lip. “Who’s coming?”
He hesitated. “My father.”
Her breath caught. “The Don?”
He nodded.
“He’ll kill you,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then why stay with me?”
“Because somewhere along the way, I stopped caring about orders.”
The weight of his words settled between them.
She reached for his hand. “Then let’s finish this. Let’s end it before they end us.”
He looked at her, a storm in his eyes. “You mean go to war?”
She nodded. “You have skills. I have intel. We don’t need an army. Just a target.”
He stared at her like she was something he never deserved. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I’m not afraid anymore.”
Matteo exhaled. “Okay. We take the fight to them.”
---
The plan was simple: fake a meeting, plant a message, draw the elder Ricci out of hiding. Matteo knew the compound layout—he’d grown up there. But Lena had something even better:
Knowledge of her father’s secret deals. Money trails. Corrupt alliances.
They were a deadly pair.
By nightfall, they found a small hideout near the city—an old warehouse once used by the Moretti family before the truce. Dusty, but usable.
Matteo barricaded the doors and cleaned his weapons. Lena sat at a metal desk, scribbling down everything she remembered about both families.
“You ever think about what comes after?” she asked.
“After what?”
“This. The blood. The chaos. Us.”
Matteo paused. “No. I never thought I’d live long enough to have an after.”
She stood, walked over to him, and touched the scar above his collarbone. “Maybe we deserve one.”
He caught her wrist. Held it. Then leaned in.
“Maybe we do.”
Their kiss wasn’t soft this time. It was wild. Desperate. A clash of pain and passion and the ache of stolen time. They tore into each other, hearts racing, fingers grasping.
Clothes hit the floor.
For a while, the world faded.
All that existed were sighs, skin, and the breathless collision of two broken people trying to feel whole again.
Afterward, Lena curled into his chest. “If we die tomorrow, I want to die with your name on my lips.”
He whispered, “And I want to live with yours.”
---
The next morning, they made their move.
Lena hacked into an old Moretti communications channel and broadcasted a message:
“Meet me where it all began. Come alone. You owe me that. —L.M.”
They waited in the warehouse, weapons ready.
But it wasn’t her father who arrived.
It was Matteo’s brother.
Tall. Suave. Deadly. Alessandro Ricci.
“Well, well,” Alessandro drawled, stepping into the warehouse. “I thought the rumors were lies. Matteo Ricci, betraying his blood for a girl.”
“She’s not just a girl,” Matteo said, stepping between him and Lena.
“No. She’s your bullet.”
Matteo raised his gun. “Go home, Ale.”
But Alessandro wasn’t alone.
Two more men emerged. Armed. Trained.
“You won’t walk away from this,” Alessandro said.
Lena moved beside Matteo. “Then we don’t walk. We burn it down.”
Gunfire exploded.
Matteo took a hit to the shoulder. Lena dropped one of the men with two clean shots. Matteo tackled Alessandro, fists flying. Years of buried resentment came pouring out.
“You always wanted to be Father’s favorite,” Matteo snarled.
“And you were too soft!” Alessandro roared.
Their fight was brutal. Blood smeared the floor. Bones cracked.
Finally, Matteo pinned him, gun pressed to his brother’s forehead.
Lena shouted, “Don’t!”
Matteo’s hand trembled.
Alessandro spat blood. “Do it. Prove you’re just like him.”
Matteo closed his eyes… and lowered the gun.
“You’re not worth it,” he whispered.
Lena rushed to him. “We need to go. Now.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone had tipped off the cops.
They ran.
Again.
---
That night, they hid in an abandoned motel on the city’s edge. Matteo stitched his shoulder while Lena cleaned up.
“You saved him,” she whispered.
“I saved myself,” he replied.
She kissed his knuckles. “There’s still good in you.”
“No. There’s only you.”
Outside, the city pulsed with danger.
But inside, they were still fighting—for each other.
- Writer
