Page 21 of The Price of Mercy

The air in the room seemed to shift, the weight of those words pressing down like an invisible hand. Matteo’s jaw tightened. A trickle of unease slithered into his chest, coiling there like a snake ready to strike.

His tone sharpened, all traces of grogginess vanishing. "What the hell does that mean? Who are you?"

Nothing.

Then a quiet click, and the line went dead.

Matteo pulled the phone from his ear, staring at the darkened screen as if it might suddenly reveal the identity of the caller. No caller ID. No way to trace it. Just a voice, low, distorted, and dripping with malice, that had delivered a single, chilling message before the line went dead.

“Watch your brothers.”

A warning with no name, no face, just a whisper in the dark meant only for him.

His entire body tensed; every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands shook as he threw the sheets off and jumped out of bed, the rush of adrenaline forcing away the last remnants of sleep. The sudden movement jostled the man beside him awake, who blinked up at him in confusion, his dark hair mussed and his face still soft with sleep.

“What’s wrong?” the man mumbled, his voice thick and groggy.

Matteo ignored him, already dialing. His fingers fumbled over the screen, the tremors in his hands making it hard to press the right buttons. He called Luca first. The phone barely rang once before Luca’s voice came through, sharp and alert, as if he’d been waiting for the call.

“Where are you?” Matteo demanded, his voice tight, each word clipped and urgent.

“I’m in the house,” Luca answered immediately, his tone shifting from calm to wary. “Why? What’s going on?”

Matteo exhaled sharply, a rush of relief flooding him for the briefest moment. “Good.” He didn’t waste another second and ended the call before Luca could ask anything else. There was no time for explanations. Not yet.

He was already dialing again. This time, Enzo.

The call rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

His stomach dropped, a cold knot of dread tightening in his chest. He pulled the phone away, stared at the screen as if willing it to ring back, then tried again. Nothing.

“Fuck,” Matteo hissed under his breath, his voice low and strained. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was shallow, ragged, each inhale feeling like it wasn’t enough.

His heart slammed against his ribs like a drum, insistent and frantic, the sound of it roaring in his ears. He shoved a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he paced the room, his bare feet silent against the cold floor.

The man in the bed sat up now, fully awake, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. “Matteo, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

Matteo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mind was racing, scenarios playing out in his head, each one worse than the last. Enzo wasn’t answering. Enzoalwaysanswered. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

The door burst open, and Luca strode in, his presence filling the room like a storm. He was already dressed, his jacket hanging open to reveal the holster strapped to his chest, his expression hard, his posture tense. He didn’t need to say anything; he had seen the look on Matteo’s face before. The look that meant trouble. The look that meant danger.

Luca was already in motion, crossing the room in three long strides and grabbing Matteo’s shoulder to steady him. “Breathe,” he ordered, his voice firm but calm. “Tell me everything.”

Matteo shook him off, his frustration boiling over. “Some bastard calls me, tells me to watch my brothers, then fucking hangs up. Now Enzo’s not answering.” His voice rose, sharp with frustration and fear. “Something’s wrong.”

Luca’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he processed the information. “Could be nothing,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t believe it.

Matteo scoffed, shoving a hand through his hair again. “Or it could be everything.”

A muscle in Luca’s jaw ticked, but he nodded, his mind already shifting into action. “We move now. Get dressed. We’ll find him.”

Matteo barely heard him. His hands trembled as he tried Enzo’s number one more time, his thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before pressing the call button. He held the phone to his ear, his breath catching as it rang.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

And that meant something was very, very wrong.

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