Page 114 of Shadows of Steel
And I let him sit with it. With the truth. Because I won’t force him to say anything he isn’t ready to.
But I hope, one day, he believes me.
After a few minutes, he finally exhales. With a dramatic huff, he mutters, “I saw how you grabbed that boy. If the coach and parents weren’t there, I think you were about to fight for me.”
A smirk tugs at my lips as I focus back on the road.
Damn right, I almost did.
If those little shits think they can mess with my kid.
They’re about to learn exactly who they’re dealing with.
The ride home is short, the silence between us comfortable. Mattia feels lighter, visibly better, even trying to lift the mood.
But I’m still furious.
Furious at the woman who left him.
How fucking dare she abandon him, leave this gaping wound in his chest, one he tries so desperately to pretend isn’t there?
I hate the way he hardens himself, fists always at the ready, walls built far too high for a child his age.
And I hate her for making him this way.
Pulling into the estate, I shift the car into park just as Mattia pushes the door open and dashes inside.
A slow breath escapes me, an attempt to steady the anger still burning beneath my skin. Once inside, I head straight for Dante’s office, knowing he’ll be there.
I don’t knock.
I burst in, and within a second, his gun is pointed at me. I don’t even flinch. I just lift a brow, arms crossing as I stare him down.
Dante exhales, lowering his weapon. A flicker of amusement dances beneath the icy veneer of his expression. “If you were anyone else,” he muses, his tone edged with quiet menace, “you’d be dead for barging in like that.”
“Yeah, yeah. No one ever taught me manners.” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I stride further inside, utterly unfazed.
Dante watches me carefully as I sink into the chair across from him, one leg crossing over the other. His sharp gaze narrows, studying me. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I let my eyes flick over the organized chaos of his desk, the stacks of documents, the gun beside his laptop, the faint smell of his cologne blending with the scent of leather and smoke.
Finally, I meet his gaze. “Mattia got into a fight today.”
Dante doesn’t react right away. Then, slowly, he leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest. “Oh?”
I glare. That’s it? “Yes, oh. And from what I gather, it’s not the first time.”
He exhales, a quiet breath of contemplation, shaking his head. “I’m well aware. But things have been markedly better since you came into our lives.”
The casual way he says it shouldn’t make my heart clench, but it fucking does.
I push past it. “If you know he’s been struggling, Dante, why haven’t you done anything?”
His gaze sharpens. “I can’t get involved.”
I scoff. “He’s a child.”
“He’smychild.” His tone darkens. “And he was born intomyworld, Harlow. You know how it works.”
