Morning came late in Matthew's house.
The curtains were drawn, blocking out the daylight, and the air felt too still — like the mansion itself was holding its breath. Vinny woke up slowly, the silk sheets heavy against his skin, Matthew's arm draped around his waist like a claim more than a comfort.
He blinked against the dim light.
For a long moment, he didn't move. The rise and fall of Matthew's chest against his back was steady, calm — but too calm. The kind of calm that hides calculation.
Vinny had learned to read that silence.
It wasn't peace. It was containment.
He turned slightly, just enough to see Matthew's face — all sharp lines softened by sleep, lashes dark against his skin. He looked younger like this. Human. Almost innocent. But even in sleep, his grip didn't loosen.
Vinny tried to slip free. The arm around his waist tightened instantly.
Matthew's voice, still rough with sleep, cut through the quiet.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Vinny froze, then forced a faint smile over his shoulder. "Bathroom. Unless you've locked that too."
Matthew's eyes opened — silver catching the dim light like frost. He didn't smile back. "You've been exploring enough rooms lately."
Vinny's breath hitched. He hadn't expected him to say it out loud.
"I wasn't—"
Matthew leaned closer, lips brushing the back of his neck. "You were," he murmured. "And now I have to make sure you don't wander again."
The words were soft. The meaning wasn't.
He let go then, sitting up, running a hand through his messy curls. The light caught the faint scars on his shoulders. Vinny sat up too, clutching the sheets around his waist.
"You're overreacting," he said carefully. "I just—"
"Don't lie."
Matthew turned his gaze on him — sharp, deliberate. "You saw something you shouldn't have, Vinny. And instead of leaving it alone, you're thinking about it. I can see it in your face."
Vinny exhaled slowly. "You think everything is a threat."
"Because it usually is."
They stared at each other — two liars caught in the same truth.
Then Matthew stood, grabbing a shirt from a nearby chair. "You'll stay here today."
Vinny blinked. "Excuse me?"
Matthew buttoned his shirt calmly. "No meetings. No errands. No 'walks around the property.' You stay in this room until I get back."
Vinny's pulse spiked. "You're serious."
Matthew's tone didn't waver. "I'm protecting you."
Vinny laughed — not because it was funny, but because it was insane. "From what? The outside world? Or from the truth you don't want me to find?"
Matthew's gaze snapped toward him. "Watch your tone."
Vinny smirked faintly, hiding the flicker of fear in his chest. "You can't lock me away, Matthew. I'm not your prisoner."
Matthew crossed the room in two strides. His hand caught Vinny's chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes were no longer calm — they burned.
"You think this is a prison?" he said quietly. "It's safety. You don't realize how many people would kill to have you right where you are."
Vinny's heartbeat thudded painfully. "And how many people would kill for you?"
Matthew didn't answer. He leaned down instead, voice low and dark against Vinny's ear.
"I don't like being questioned. Especially not by someone who's supposed to trust me."
Vinny's voice came out quieter. "You don't make it easy."
For a long, tense moment, neither spoke. Then Matthew exhaled and stepped back, the mask sliding into place again.
"I'll have food brought up. Stay put."
He turned and left before Vinny could respond, the heavy click of the lock echoing in the silence.
The day stretched long.
Vinny paced the room, barefoot, restless. Every sound in the hall made him stop. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like surveillance. The mansion's stillness had teeth now.
He tried the door once — locked.
Of course it was.
He looked out the window. High walls. Iron gates. Security cameras. Guards posted discreetly along the gardens. The house wasn't just guarded — it was a fortress.
A beautiful cage.
He sighed, sitting back on the bed, fingers tracing the patterns on the sheets. Matthew's scent still lingered in the fabric — cedar, smoke, control. It was suffocating and addictive at once.
He's testing you, Vinny thought.
He wants to see if you'll obey.
But obedience had never been his strength.
He looked around — at the books on the shelf, the stack of papers on the desk, the half-open drawer. His curiosity burned hotter than his fear.
If Matthew wanted him to stay put… then fine. He'd stay put.
But he'd look.
Vinny crossed to the desk. Inside the drawer were files — crisp, organized, labeled with coded initials. He flipped through them quickly, careful not to disturb the order.
Medical reports. Financial transfers. Lab records.
One caught his eye:
"Project Elysium — Phase 4."
His pulse quickened.
He opened it — pages filled with chemical formulas, cell samples, treatment cycles. The same serum he'd seen glowing in the glass tank. He skimmed until a word stopped him cold.
"Subject's genetic stabilization achieved through donor grafting. Compatibility: 82%. Host response: improving."
Donor grafting?
Vinny's fingers trembled. He flipped another page. There — a column labeled "Donor Source." But the name was blacked out.
Then, in a smaller note scribbled by hand, one word remained legible:
"Vincent."
He froze.
His stomach dropped, a cold rush spreading through his chest.
No.
That couldn't—
"Looking for something?"
Vinny's head snapped up.
Matthew stood in the doorway — silent, expression unreadable. He hadn't even heard the door unlock.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Matthew's gaze lowered to the open folder in Vinny's hands.
The calm was gone now.
"Put it down," Matthew said quietly.
Vinny didn't move. "You're using me."
Matthew's jaw tightened. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Silence.
Then Matthew took a slow step forward. "When I found you," he said, voice low, almost soft, "you were dying in that alley. You remember?"
Vinny's throat constricted. "You saved me."
"I rebuilt you," Matthew corrected. "The drugs in your system had already destroyed your immune profile. You were a corpse waiting to happen. I fixed you."
Vinny's pulse hammered. "With what?"
Matthew looked at the file, then back at him. "With her research."
Vinny's hand clenched. "You used me as part of her experiment?"
"I saved your life," Matthew said. "And hers. You're connected now, Vinny. You're the only compatible donor I've ever found."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"So that's it?" Vinny said, voice trembling. "That's why I'm here? Because my blood keeps your mother breathing?"
Matthew's silence was the answer.
Vinny's chest ached. The edges of anger, guilt, and betrayal all twisted together until he couldn't tell them apart.
"You said you cared about me."
"I do."
"Then what is this?" Vinny demanded, stepping closer. "Love? Or ownership?"
Matthew's eyes darkened. "Both."
It was too honest. Too real.
Vinny laughed — a sharp, broken sound. "You're insane."
"Maybe," Matthew said. "But I never lie to you."
Vinny shook his head. "You should've let me die."
Matthew closed the distance between them, voice quiet but lethal. "Don't ever say that again."
Vinny met his gaze — fire against ice. "What are you going to do? Lock me in here forever?"
"If that's what it takes."
"Then I'll find a way out."
Matthew's lips curved slightly, something almost like a smile. "I'd like to see you try."
He turned and walked to the door again — but before he left, he looked back once more, and the softness that flickered in his eyes was almost unbearable.
"I told you," he said. "Curiosity gets you caged."
The door shut. The lock clicked again.
Vinny stood frozen, heart racing, the word Vincent still burned behind his eyes.
He looked around the room — the silk sheets, the gold walls, the bookshelves.
All of it suddenly felt like chains.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, hands shaking.
You wanted to play him, he thought.
But maybe he's been playing you all along.
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance. The storm was coming.
And this time, neither of them would walk out of it unchanged.