Vinny didn't sleep that night either.
The image of her — Matthew's mother floating like a ghost in that glowing blue tank — wouldn't leave his head.
Neither would the scars.
Neither would the words.
I built an empire of blood for you, mama.
He lay in bed, staring at the high ceiling of Matthew's room, the sheets smelling faintly of smoke and cologne. The house was silent again, but this time the silence knew things. It pressed against his chest like it wanted to tell him a story he didn't want to hear.
He should've felt victorious. He'd uncovered a secret no one in the underworld even whispered about. A weakness. A tether.
Instead, guilt gnawed at him.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the empty space next to him. The indentation of Matthew's body was still warm, like he'd been there minutes ago. Vinny touched it unconsciously, then drew his hand back like it burned him.
Get a grip, he told himself.
You're not here to feel sorry for him. You're here to win.
But the line between those things had started to blur the moment Matthew looked at him like he was the only real thing left in his world.
He sat up, pushing his hair from his face, when he felt it — that prickling heat crawling up the back of his neck. A shadow in the doorway.
"Can't sleep?"
Vinny froze.
Matthew leaned against the frame, half in shadow, wearing black pajama pants and nothing else. The faint light caught the sharp angles of his chest, the bruised silver of his eyes. He looked calm — too calm.
"I didn't hear you come in," Vinny said quietly.
"I wasn't trying to be heard."
His tone wasn't angry. It was worse. Controlled. Careful. The kind of calm that comes after anger — the kind that thinks before it burns.
Vinny forced a small smirk. "You make it sound like I did something wrong."
"Didn't you?"
The question landed like a knife on the table between them.
Vinny's heart skipped. "You're talking about earlier."
Matthew's gaze didn't waver. "You were in a room I told you never to open."
"I didn't know that," Vinny said softly, but Matthew's silence said he didn't believe that.
He stepped further into the room, each movement deliberate, like a predator closing the distance between them. "You're not stupid, Vincent. You knew you shouldn't be there."
Vinny's throat went dry. "You're angry."
"I'm thinking," Matthew said simply. "About what you were doing down there. About what you were looking for."
His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. The power was in the restraint.
Vinny met his eyes. "You think I was spying on you."
"I think," Matthew said, stopping a breath away from him, "you're not telling me the truth."
The tension was suffocating — a quiet, electric stillness between them. Matthew's shadow fell across Vinny's lap, his hand coming up to tilt Vinny's chin up.
"Tell me," he murmured, "why you opened that door."
Vinny's pulse thundered. He should lie. Deflect. But the words that came out weren't the ones he planned.
"I wanted to understand you."
Matthew's eyes flickered. The grip on his chin tightened, then loosened. "Understand me?"
Vinny nodded. "You build walls around yourself, Matthew. You say nothing, feel nothing, let no one in — and then you look at me like you want to. I wanted to see what you were hiding from me."
A muscle in Matthew's jaw ticked. "And now you know."
"I saw pain," Vinny whispered. "Not a monster."
The words hit something deep.
Matthew's expression didn't change, but his eyes — those strange silver ones — softened for a heartbeat before turning to steel again.
"You shouldn't have seen that," he said. "I don't want your pity."
"It wasn't pity."
"Then what was it?"
Vinny hesitated. "Curiosity. Empathy. Maybe something worse."
Matthew leaned closer, breath brushing Vinny's lips. "Worse?"
Vinny's eyes flicked down, then up again. "Attachment."
The silence that followed wasn't just heavy — it was dangerous.
Matthew's hand moved from Vinny's chin to his throat, thumb tracing the pulse there. He didn't squeeze. He didn't have to. The gesture alone was a warning, intimate and possessive all at once.
"You like playing with fire," he murmured. "But fire burns, Vinny."
Vinny's lips curved faintly. "Maybe I'm tired of the cold."
Matthew's composure cracked — not fully, but enough to let something raw leak through. He let go of Vinny's throat, only to cup the back of his neck instead, pulling him forward until their foreheads almost touched.
"You shouldn't want to understand me," he said quietly. "It's safer when you don't."
"I don't care about safe."
"That's the problem."
For a moment, neither moved. The air between them was thick — heat, guilt, and something like need. Then, unexpectedly, Matthew's hand trembled.
Vinny caught it.
For the first time, Matthew didn't pull away. He just stared at the place their hands touched, his expression unreadable.
"She's your mother," Vinny said softly. "You're keeping her alive. That's not cruelty, Matthew. That's love."
"Love," Matthew repeated. His voice was sharp, bitter. "Love made me a killer."
Vinny's voice lowered. "Maybe. But it's also the only reason you still feel anything at all."
Matthew looked at him then — really looked. For the first time, Vinny saw confusion flicker across his face, like he didn't know whether to kiss him or destroy him.
"Why do you talk like you know me?" he muttered.
"Because I see you," Vinny said simply. "And you hate that."
Matthew's breath hitched — and then, suddenly, the mask shattered.
He pulled Vinny against him, mouth hovering just a breath away from his. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"You don't see me. You see what you want to fix."
"Then show me the rest," Vinny said. "The parts you don't show anyone."
Something broke in Matthew's eyes. He kissed him — not softly, not gently, but like a man drowning. Vinny responded without hesitation, hands gripping Matthew's shoulders, feeling the tremor beneath his skin.
The kiss wasn't tenderness. It was confession. Desperation. A war fought in silence.
When they finally broke apart, Matthew's forehead rested against his, breath ragged. "You shouldn't be here," he said again, voice fraying at the edges. "You don't understand what I'll do to keep you."
Vinny blinked. "Keep me?"
Matthew's eyes opened — colder now, steadier, but the truth was still burning underneath. "You've seen too much, Vinny. I can't let you leave now."
It should've sounded like a threat. It didn't.
It sounded like a promise.
Vinny forced a small, careful smile. "Then I guess I'm staying."
He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to the corner of Matthew's mouth — a move meant to calm him, to disarm. But inside, his thoughts twisted.
If Matthew's greatest weakness was love, then that was where he'd break him. Slowly. Softly. Intimately.
He would make Matthew trust him, need him — until the empire he built for his mother began to crack from the inside out.
But as Matthew's arms wrapped around him, as that steady heartbeat pressed against his chest, Vinny felt something he hadn't planned for.
Fear.
Not of Matthew — but of himself.
Because somewhere between revenge and seduction, he wasn't sure which part of this was still a lie.