The flames rose faster than Matthew expected.
He threw Tom's lighter onto the oil-soaked carpet and stepped back as fire devoured the room in a hungry roar. Orange light reflected in Matthew's eyes—unblinking, cold, merciless.
Tom's body lay at the center of the inferno like a discarded piece of trash.
A fitting end.
The heat washed over Matthew's face.
He didn't flinch.
"Burn," he whispered.
He turned without looking back.
He had something—no, someone—far more precious to run to.
The rain had stopped by the time Matthew kicked open the mansion's front doors and rushed into the night, Vinny in the arms of his men. Aiden was draped over another guard's shoulder, unconscious from blood loss and trauma. Matthew threw open the passenger door of the car and climbed inside, drenched, wild, shaking.
"DRIVE!" he shouted. "NOW!"
The car sped off like a bullet.
Matthew didn't blink the entire way.
He held Vinny's bloodied shirt pressed against his chest, fingers trembling as he whispered Vinny's name over and over—as if repeating it kept him alive.
"He took a bullet for me," he muttered, voice cracking, almost to himself. "He took a bullet for me."
The driver didn't dare speak.
By the time the car screeched to a stop in front of the hospital, there were already doctors waiting with stretchers.
Vinny was taken first.
"I'm coming with him," Matthew said, voice razor-sharp.
"Sir, you can't enter the operating block—"
"He's MINE," Matthew growled, grabbing the doctor's coat. "Let me in—"
Security immediately rushed over.
"Mr. Leonetti, please! You must release him—"
Matthew felt hands dragging him back, and he snapped, ripping himself free.
"VINNY!" he shouted as the doors closed between them.
The red 'Surgery In Progress' light clicked on.
And Vinny disappeared behind it.
Matthew slammed his fist against the glass so hard it shook.
"VINNY!"
"Matthew."
The voice behind him made Matthew freeze.
He turned and found Kieran standing there—coat still open from rushing, hair messy from travel, chest rising and falling like he'd sprinted from the airport.
"Where is he?" Kieran demanded. "Is Vinny—"
"He's in the operating room," Matthew said through clenched teeth. "And they won't let me in."
Kieran stepped forward and grabbed Matthew's shoulders.
"Then you need to breathe."
"I can't," Matthew said. "Not while he's— not while I—"
His voice broke.
Kieran's expression softened, but he didn't let go.
"Listen to me," Kieran said. "If you make a scene, they'll kick you out. Sit down. Now."
Matthew didn't move.
"Matthew," Kieran said again, firmer. "He needs you calm when he wakes up."
That worked.
The fight drained from Matthew's limbs, and he stumbled backward into the waiting room chairs, dropping into one like all the bones in his body had suddenly given up.
His hands were still covered in Tom's blood.
His shirt was torn, soaked in Vinny's.
He stared at them as if he didn't recognize the hands attached to him.
"He took a bullet for me," Matthew whispered again, voice hoarse. "Do you understand what that means, Kieran?"
Kieran sat beside him. "Yeah. It means he cares."
Matthew shook his head slowly.
"No. It means I didn't protect him."
A commotion sounded from the hallway.
Aiden.
He was being wheeled rapidly toward another room, oxygen mask strapped to his face, heart monitor flashing too fast.
"Vinny…" Aiden mumbled, voice shaking. "Where's Vinny…? Let me… let me see him—"
"Aiden!" Matthew stood instantly.
One of the doctors blocked him. "Sir, he can't see anyone now. He's losing consciousness."
Aiden's hand slipped from the stretcher, reaching for nothing.
Then he went limp.
Matthew felt something like ice crawl up his spine.
Kieran put a hand on his shoulder. "They'll take care of him. Both of them."
Matthew didn't answer.
He sat back down.
Stared at the operating room doors.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe right.
His leg shook violently, his hands tight in his hair, elbows resting on his knees as he slowly unraveled.
Minutes crawled.
Then hours.
Every nurse who passed cast a wary glance at the bloodstained, hollow-eyed mafia lord who looked ready to kill the entire hospital if anyone brought bad news.
"Matthew," Kieran said quietly. "You're hyperventilating."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"I said I'm FINE." Matthew's voice cracked as he looked up. "I just… I don't know what I am if he dies."
Kieran paused.
Matthew stared at the floor as if something terrifying were written there.
"He walked into a bullet meant for me," Matthew whispered. "He took the hit because he thought— that he—"
His voice thinned into air.
Kieran let out a slow, controlled breath.
"You love him."
Matthew didn't deny it.
Didn't admit it either.
He only closed his eyes… and the strongest man in the Mercato del Muerte looked like a lost child, shivering under the bright hospital lights.
After nearly four hours—
—the red light over the operating room turned off.
Matthew's body snapped upright like someone had pulled a wire through his spine.
A doctor stepped out, mask removed, gloves bloody.
Matthew nearly lunged at him.
"What happened?" he demanded. "Is he alive?"
Kieran put a hand on Matthew's arm in case Matthew tried something reckless again.
The doctor exhaled deeply and met Matthew's eyes.
"He's alive."
Matthew's knees nearly gave out.
The doctor continued, "The bullet missed his lung by less than an inch. We removed it. He lost a dangerous amount of blood but stabilized. He's sedated and will remain unconscious for a few hours."
Matthew's breathing stuttered.
"Can I… see him?"
"Once we transfer him to recovery."
Matthew nodded repeatedly—too fast—like he was convincing himself this wasn't a dream.
Kieran placed a steady hand on his back.
"See? He made it," he said softly.
Matthew dragged a hand over his face, letting out a shaky exhale.
He didn't cry.
He never cried.
But his shoulders shook once, hard.
"Tell me the moment he's moved," Matthew ordered the doctor, straightening again, cold control snapping back into place like armor re-locking.
"Yes, sir."
Kieran waited until the doctor left.
"You look like hell."
Matthew didn't look away from the doors.
"He's alive," he whispered.
The way he said it sounded like a prayer he didn't realize he had spoken aloud.
Kieran sighed. "You know, Matt… you're allowed to sit back down."
"I can't sit," Matthew said. "Not until I see him. Not until I touch him and know he's real."
Kieran looked at him a long moment.
Then nodded.
"Then we wait."
And Matthew did.
He stood there, unmoving, staring at the door with a devotion that bordered on terrifying, as if daring the universe to take Vinny away again.
Because if it tried—
—it would have to go through him.
And after tonight…
Matthew Leonetti had nothing left to lose.