I barely registered my own feet moving as Matteo and I carried Eli’s lifeless body out of the basement. He felt weightless in my arms, his body unnervingly cold, his skin ashen, lips tinted blue. My heart was dying in my chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed.
Matteo’s grip on Eli was almost too tight, his knuckles were white as he supported Eli’s legs, his own face was filled with pure horror. “Luca, he’s barely breathing,” he choked out. “Fucking hell, what have we done?” I didn’t answer—I couldn’t. My mouth parted but no words came. My mind was filled with so much emotions like that of self-hatred, guilt, and fear. I had done this. My rage. My fucking insecurities. My need for control. I had locked him down there like an animal, left him alone in the dark. I thought I was proving a point. Instead, I had nearly killed him. We stormed into the living room, laying him on the couch. Matteo iEli's povI didn’t leave the room.Not that day. Not the one after. Or the one after that.The cake ingredients would still be sitting untouched in a bag downstairs or maybe Ricardo must’ve unpacked them. I imagined the eggs had gone bad by now, the flour left forgotten in some cupboard. Like me. Forgotten. Pushed aside. An inconvenience. Again.Luca’s voice haunted the hallway on that first night. His words were soft and aching as it slipped through the wooden door. I sat with my back pressed to the other side of the door, knees pulled close to my chest, shaking.He said he loved me.I didn’t believe him.No, that wasn’t true. I believed he wanted to mean it. But words didn’t fix what was broken. They didn’t erase the venomous words Matteo spat. They didn’t erase the shame that burned inside me when I realized just how they saw me.A servant. A coward. A mistake.I didn’t cry that first night. I
Luca's povThe guest room door stayed shut.I came back.I stood in front of it for almost an hour, hand hovering over the doorknob, willing it to open. Willing him to open it. But there was nothing but silence behind it, the kind that weighed heavy on your chest and whispered, you messed up again.I hated this kind of quiet. It reminded me too much of the nights after Matteo’s mother died, when I’d sneak into his room just to make sure he hadn’t stopped breathing from the suffocation of grief. This silence felt like that. Like something fragile had cracked and I didn’t know how to fix it.I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, swallowing the guilt burning up my throat.“I didn’t mean it,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean any of that.”But Eli wouldn’t hear me. Not now. Maybe not ever.And could I even blame him?****Ricardo had walked back into the estate with Eli at his side, and in that mom
Eli's pov The hummingbird cake was supposed to be a surprise. I’d Googled the recipe at midnight, unable to sleep, thinking maybe—just maybe—I could bring a little sweetness into a house that had grown so cold toward me. I needed some bananas that were soft enough to mash. The cinnamon in the cabinet still smelled like warmth. And for a moment, I’d thought… that could be something. I shouldn’t have gone alone. I knew that the second I stepped outside that damn gate. Ricardo offered to drive me. Said he needed to pick up smokes anyway. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t smirk or pry. Just opened the car door and let me sit in silence. I should’ve left a note. Should’ve said something. But after last nigh
Luca's pov “Eli left with the car this morning. Said he was going to get some groceries with—” “You let him leave?” I barked, not hearing the rest. “I—he said Ricardo was taking him, I didn’t—” Matteo turned on me. “Ricardo? I find that hard to believe because they barely talk.God forbid he ever tells us a damn thing.” “Like you’d have listened?” I spat. “This whole thing wouldn’t be a fucking disaster if you hadn’t treated him like an outsider from the start!” “You’re blaming me?” “Yes.” “How's all this my fault when he left. Without telling anyone. Again.” “And where the fuck were you when he was walking out the goddamn door?” I snapped. “Too busy sulking to even
Luca's pov I knew something was wrong the second my hand reached for the other side of the bed and found nothing. The first thing I noticed was the cold. Not from the air, but from the space beside me. Empty sheets. No warmth. No Eli. “Eli?” I whispered, eyes still adjusting to the morning light spilling in through the curtains. No response. I sat up, glancing around the room. His clothes were gone. The bathroom door was open. My chest tightened. “Eli?” I called louder this time, getting out of bed. Nothing. Something sharp twisted in my chest. I pulled on a pair of pants and jogged downstairs, barefoot and edgy. Each step tightened the knot in my stomach. This wasn’t like him. Not after last night. Not after what we shared. Not after
Eli's pov I don't remember how long we stayed like that, me in his arms, head on his shoulder, breathing in that mix of cedarwood and whiskey that always clung to him. Time blurred. My thoughts were a mess of guilt and longing and fear. But under it all… was this soft ache for him. For us. For them. For something that felt real in a world where everything else had shattered. His hand moved slowly up and down my back. Not possessive, not rough. Just there. Just steady. Grounding me. I shifted, barely an inch, just enough to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against my side. Still steady. Still mine. Still Luca. He looked down at me. I looked up at him. There was nothing lustful in the first few seconds of silence only that lingering question in both our eyes. Are we still safe here? And then I said the one thing I hadn’t d