Page 113 of Shadows of Steel
Smart.
I turn back to Mattia, but he’s already storming off, his shoulders rigid, his small frame vibrating with rage.
I follow him, the guards flanking us as we move toward the car. Mattia wrenches the door open, slamming it shut behind him.
Piero steps forward to take the driver’s seat, but I hold up a hand. “I’ll drive.”
His brow furrows. “Mrs. Salvatore, I—”
I cut him off, my voice flat, absolute. “We have three cars tailing us. A security team in the front, one in the back. I think I’ll manage.”
He pauses. And I raise a brow, daring him to argue. Finally, he hands me the keys, stepping aside.
I slide into the driver’s seat, starting the engine, glancing at Mattia. He’s silent, his jaw set. I pull out of the lot, the other cars following behind. For a few minutes, there’s only silence.
Then, I speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Silence.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on the window. His scowl is deep, lips pressed into a firm, stubborn line.
I sigh, adjusting my grip on the wheel. “I’m not going to force you. But I’m here.”
More silence.
Just as I think he’s going to ignore me completely, a small voice mutters, “He was talking shit.”
I keep my tone even. “About what? And watch your language, you’re far too young to speak that way.”
He falls silent for a moment, hesitation hanging heavy in the air. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmurs, “You.”
A warmth blooms in my chest, unexpected and unbidden. Did he just protect me? This boy, so small, yet so fierce.
I say nothing, allowing him the space to continue. Mattia inhales sharply through his nose, his hands curling into fists in his lap. “He said…” His jaw tightens, his small body coiling with rage. “He said you’re just some whore my dad picked up. And that I finally got myself a mommy.”
My grip tightens on the wheel, rage coiling hot and sharp along my spine. There’s no way a boy his age came up with this on his own, he must have heard it from an adult. Beside me, Mattia’s voice quiets, his small shoulders curling inward.
I hate seeing him like this.
“It's been happening for a while,” he mumbles, kicking at nothing. “They know I don't have a mom. They always say stuff. Mean stuff.”
His tone drops even further, almost as if he's trying to convince himself. “I don’t care. It’s stupid anyway.”
I don’t get the chance to reply because he scoffs, shaking his head, but there’s something raw beneath the bravado. “I don’t need a mom anyway.” His voice turns rigid, like he’s trying to force himself to believe it. “She left me. I don’t need her.”
A slow breath pushes past my lips as I swallow down the ache in my throat.
I want to tell him she didn’t deserve him.
I want to tell him he’s allowed to be angry.
But instead, I keep my voice soft. “I’ll be here for you, Mattia. Always.”
He stiffens, his small hands balling into fists in his lap. But I don’t stop.
“I’m not asking you to see me as a mother or a replacement.” My voice remains steady. “All I’m saying is that I can be whatever you need, a friend, a confidante, someone who will always stand in your corner.”
He stares out the window, silent.
