Who Is Mattheo Riddle Novels & Stories

like pillows and whatever else she wanted or enjoyed. "Pomelia," the priestess said softly, rubbing her back softly. "You know mates are a gift from our goddess...if this man is your mate you have to be truthful and accept this." War was surprised at how soft and loving the woman's voice came out. She was like a viper when she spoke to him. "Is he?"

Rough fingers entered Grace's mouth, and she whistled loud enough to have Herne and Jack cover their ears, "Sort out your domestic stuff later. We have a gigas to find, Bokken Riders to interrogate, and this young man seeks our help." Theria scowled and sat on the opposite end of the conference table. Her eyes spoke volumes of her displeasure. "This is not over," she hissed. In record time, Warren's hands found his face, "This is so not my day." Time ticked away while Grace waited for her junior members to stop their grumbles. "How can we help you, Mateo?" Mateo fiddled with a gold necklace and took a deep breath, "I heard about you guys on the news. I prayed to god above you could help me."

He was unprepared…but he knew exactly what to say. “I’m sure most of you know me since I grew up in this neighborhood,” he spoke into the mic. “I felt bad about hiding it, but…I’m actually half-werewolf. My father is Dylan Hayes, and my mother is his mate, Isabella Hayes.” Dylan took that as a cue and stepped forward, confirming his identity by removing his gear. The news of his death was all over the news many years ago, but here he was. What was even more shocking, however, is the fact that a werewolf and a human were mates. Gasps were heard and they whispered among themselves once more.

"What?" "Yes, she is the mother of Stefan, her soul was shifted into that woman and now, her time to go back is here, that is the reason she is desperate to make you meet Stefan.' "Have I met Stefan? The stranger that is in the castle is Stefan, right?" "Yes, he is Stefan." "Then why is he lying that he doesn't..." "He is not lying, he had no idea that he is your mate..." "He did kiss me."

I asked. “We have reason to believe that the person involved in your mother’s murder is one Matteo Romero.”

As I glanced at the screen, it was a call from an Unknown Caller. I hesitated, then answered. “Who is this?” There was silence at first. Then… a low chuckle. “Matteo Romenetti. I believe we have something in common.” I straightened. The voice wasn't familiar, so it was difficult to place who it was talking. But whoever this was, he wasn’t calling by mistake. “I don’t play guessing games. Speak.” “Let’s not pretend you don’t know who you’re hunting, Matteo. The detective… the little lamb you lost. I’m afraid she stumbled into something much bigger than your little empire.”

"And then, after the year, you'll vanish?" "Just as I discovered you," he agreed. It was all so cold. So professional. And yet, beneath the surface, the hum of something else vibrated softly, something unnamed. A hidden past. A specter named Matteo. She stretched out for the pen that sat patiently next to the folder, her hands shaking a little. "Elira," Caelan interrupted abruptly. "You don't have to sign it today." She hesitated. "But you want me to." "Yes."

“And what about you? Where do you stand?” Matteo’s jaw clenched. “I’m caught in the middle, like always. But I won’t let them hurt you.” She searched his face for doubt but found none. For the first time, she saw not just the heir to a crime dynasty, but a man burdened by impossible choices. Suddenly, the sharp ring of the phone shattered the moment. Matteo answered, voice low and clipped. His eyes flicked to Isabella before he gestured for her to stay quiet.

That silence was enough to make her heart race. “What order?” she asked. No answer. Adrian nodded knowingly. “I thought so.” He looked at Seraphina once more. “Watch the footage.” Then he walked away. Matteo didn’t stop him. He simply watched until Adrian disappeared through the front gate. The moment he was gone, Seraphina rounded on Matteo. “Who is he really?” Matteo sighed. “A complication.” “That’s not an answer.” “He used to be one of ours.” “Ours?”

How could no one have expected this? Matteo.