Madrid, Spain — Midnight
The blood had dried on his knuckles hours ago.
Matteo Santiago sat in the back of a blacked-out Mercedes, his tailored suit still crisp despite the mess earlier that night. He stared out the window as the neon lights of Madrid blurred by. Another city. Another deal. Another dead man who thought he could outsmart him.
He didn't flinch when his phone buzzed.
Ramón: The body's been dumped in the river. No trace.
Matteo: Burn the rest. Fly the pilot back tonight.
His jaw clenched. Efficiency was everything.
Still, none of it brought him peace. Not the control. Not the money. Not the blood.
The silence inside him had grown louder over the years. Women came and went bought, begged, or sent none of them stayed. They wanted the man they saw in tabloids. The one who walked into rooms like he owned the world. None of them knew the man who couldn't sleep. The man who hadn't felt warmth in a decade.
The car pulled to a stop outside his penthouse. Top floor. Bulletproof glass. Triple security. A fortress built to protect a man no one dared to touch but who was already long dead inside.
He stepped out, greeted by the cool Madrid air. The city hummed beneath him, vibrant and alive.
He hated it.
Everything about this world bored him now.
Same faces. Same lies. Same fucking routine.
He lit a cigarette and leaned against the balcony once inside.
Took a long drag. Exhaled.
Until something no, someone flickered into memory. A waitress earlier that day. Café down on Calle de Bailén. He'd walked in for espresso. She'd walked in from the back, apron tied, hair falling into her eyes.
Young. Too young.
She hadn't even looked up at him when she took his order. But he'd looked.
And for the first time in years, he hadn't been bored.
Not annoyed. Not numb. Just… still.
Her voice had been soft when she spoke.
Her hands had trembled when she gave him the change.
He could smell her honey, soap, something innocent.
She didn't belong in his world.
She didn't even know who he was.
But something in him something savage had stirred.
Matteo exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the stars.
He shouldn't go back there.
But wolves never stayed away from prey.
Especially when it smelled like her.