Page 132 of Ruined By Protection
Hazel
My thoughts tumble head over tush as I attempt to read the emotions wrangling in Matteo's eyes. The storm of rage is tempered not only by what he wants to do to Elliott, how he wants to make him pay. But with Vanessa’s unexpected presence, I can tell he’s berating himself, for being a man who also harms a woman by tossing her to one side without a thought.
“Don’t blame yourself for any of this,” I say, my free hand moving to his stubbled cheek. He visibly relaxes the instant I let him know that I get the turmoil he’s battling inside.
But then his jaw pinches. "I want to make him suffer, Hazel. He deserves agonizing pain for every mark he put on your body, for every nightmare he gave you."
I shake my head, grabbing his wrists as his hands cup my face. "No. I can't do this. I can't be party to torture, no matter what he's done."
"He buried a pregnant woman under a tree and made you tend her grave," Matteo says, his voice dropping dangerously low. "He deserves worse than a quick painless death."
"And then what does that make us?" I ask, tears welling in my eyes. "If we become like him, he wins. He scars me all over again. Don't you see that?"
Matteo's eyes search mine, his breath coming hard and fast. “In my world we have a code for assholes like Elliott.”
"Please," I beg, squeezing his wrists tighter. "Do it as justice, not revenge. Clean. Quick. I know you have to deal with him but I can't live with knowing we made him suffer. I can't carry that with everything else."
His expression transforms—the rage still burns but it's now tempered by respect. Or understanding.
"Okay," he says finally, pressing his forehead against mine. "For you. We do it clean."
I exhale, relief flooding through me. "Thank you."
"You're nothing like him," Matteo husks. "You know that, right? Even now, you're showing mercy he never deserved."
“Ditto,” I say, echoing some old romantic movie we watched a few nights ago. My eyes glint with a much-needed touch of promise for the future once we get through this ghastly nightmare. Oh, there’ll be others, I have no doubts or illusions but I can’t help feeling that together we’ll navigate whatever Matteo’s crazy world throws in our path.
“You have so much compassion,” Matteo says. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”
I laugh ruefully, surprised at my next thought: “I even want Vanessa to be free. She’s only acting this way because…”
“Becasue I was a bastard.”
“Not intentionally, not callously,” I remind him not to blame himself. “I believe everyone deserves compassion, especially you.”
He drops his face to capture my mouth under his. The passion in our kiss releases the pent up tension caught in our bodies but I disentangle before it goes too far.
“Okay soldier, let’s get this mission completed and get the hell outta here.”
"Yes ma’am. Clean and quick, like you said.” He stands to attention then turns serious. “But you need to stay here while we handle this. I don't want you anywhere near… when it happens."
"I can't just sit here twiddling my thumbs while…you…" My lips stop functioning as revulsion courses through me. Elliott's confession about killing Melissa and their child, his glee at having me dig in her grave, his plan to murder me, Vanessa, both of us—it's too much. And now we’re about to do the same.
Matteo takes my phone from my pocket. "Do you have a special song that can always take you somewhere else?"
I consider all the songs that have ever helped me to forget for a while. "When I was small Mum used to play an old one by Florence and the Machine calledDog Days Are Over. We'd dance around the kitchen, clapping our hands with it."
"That's the one then. Good old Mum." He plugs his own AirPods into the device and gently brushes back tendrils of my hair to insert them. The tenderness in his gesture contrasts with the violence I know he's about to commit.
I grab his wrist before he can pull away. "Matteo..."
"I know," he says. “When I leave, turn it up loud. Think about dancing with your mom. Think about being free. Because after tonight the dog dayswillbe over and you will be." He leans down for a lingering kiss, as though he’s drawing inspiration from my body. When he pulls back his eyes are dark with purpose. "I won't be long."
I observe the transformation in him—the tender man who protects and caresses every inch of my body morphs into the deadly enforcer as he moves to the door with lethal grace.
I press the play button and try to remember the feeling of carefree innocence.
Matteo
