The sun had already climbed high when Vinny finally stirred awake. His body felt heavy — not just from exhaustion, but from the ghost of Matthew's touch still imprinted on his skin. He stretched lazily beneath the silk sheets, and as he shifted, the soreness on his neck and collarbone made him hiss.
He dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, blinking at the reflection that stared back at him.
"...oh, hell no," he muttered, leaning closer to the mirror.
Purple and red marks dotted his throat like a constellation. Some faded, some fresh — bold, possessive, impossible to hide. His fingers brushed over one, and his heart skipped at the memory: Matthew's lips pressing against that very spot, his breath uneven, his voice low and rough as he whispered mine.
Vinny sighed. "He's insane."
But the small smile that tugged at his lips betrayed him.
He slipped on a loose white shirt, tugging the collar up in a half-hearted attempt to hide the evidence. Useless — the marks trailed too high. He could already picture Matthew's smirk when he saw him.
Downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with toast and butter. Matthew sat at the long marble table, dressed immaculately in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, a watch gleaming at his wrist. He looked calm — too calm. That kind of stillness that made Vinny's stomach twist.
"Morning," Vinny greeted, voice casual but still husky from sleep.
Matthew's eyes lifted instantly. Sharp. Observant. They flicked over Vinny's face, then dipped lower — catching on the bruises scattered across his throat. His expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened just a little.
Vinny grabbed a plate, pretending not to notice. "You cooked?"
"Had them cook," Matthew corrected smoothly, cutting into his toast with slow precision. "You were... busy recovering."
Vinny rolled his eyes and sat across from him. "You make it sound like I ran a marathon."
"You could barely walk last night," Matthew murmured without looking up.
Vinny froze mid-bite, a flush creeping up his neck. "You—"
"Eat," Matthew interrupted, finally meeting his gaze. "You'll need the energy."
There it was — that teasing undercurrent, wrapped in control. The same tone that made Vinny's pulse quicken and his guard rise.
He tried to shift the conversation. "You don't look tired for someone who barely slept either."
Matthew smirked faintly. "I don't tire easily."
Vinny clicked his tongue. "You're impossible."
Silence settled, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just charged. Matthew's gaze lingered on him — tracing the hickeys, the flushed skin, the way Vinny's collarbone peeked out from the half-buttoned shirt.
Finally, Matthew leaned back in his chair. "You didn't cover them."
Vinny blinked. "What?"
"The marks," he said softly, almost smug. "You didn't bother to hide them."
"I tried," Vinny replied, tone defensive but lips twitching. "You went a little overboard, don't you think?"
Matthew's voice dropped to a murmur, dangerous and intimate.
"I warned you, Vinny. I don't like leaving things... uncertain."
Vinny stared at him, caught between irritation and a strange, fluttering warmth in his chest. "You mean you don't like people touching what you think is yours."
Matthew didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence was the answer.
Vinny leaned forward slightly, smirking. "You really are possessive, you know that?"
Matthew's eyes darkened, the faintest glint of something raw flickering there. "And you really don't seem to mind."
For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them thickened — charged, magnetic, dangerous in its pull. Vinny's heartbeat was loud in his ears, and Matthew's gaze was relentless, stripping away every ounce of composure he had left.
Then, quietly, Matthew added, "You look beautiful in the morning, Vinny."
Vinny's smirk faltered. Just a little. Because it wasn't teasing. Not entirely. There was something genuine beneath the smooth voice — something that made Vinny's chest tighten.
He looked down at his plate, suddenly unsure of what to do with that warmth in his stomach. "You're insane," he said again, but softer this time.
Matthew smiled faintly. "You make me that way."
And for the first time that morning, Vinny didn't know if that was a compliment — or a warning.
The quiet that followed their teasing was strange — not cold, but heavy. Vinny poked idly at his toast, sneaking glances at Matthew every few seconds. The man's calm was unsettling, elegant even in silence, but Vinny could feel something beneath it… an undercurrent of unease, like a storm waiting to break.
Neither spoke for a while. Only the faint clink of silverware filled the space, echoing in the vast dining room. Then, just as Vinny opened his mouth to break the tension—
A shrill alarm tore through the air.
Matthew froze. The fork slipped from his hand, hitting the plate with a sharp clang.
The sound wasn't one of those ordinary alarms — it was deeper, urgent, almost like a mechanical heartbeat gone wrong. And before Vinny could even ask, Matthew was on his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"Matthew—?"
But he was already gone.
Vinny's pulse spiked as he chased after him, barefoot, nearly tripping as he ran down the hallways he barely knew. The alarm grew louder, echoing off the cold marble and glass until it felt like it was pulsing inside his skull.
When he finally reached the end of the corridor — the heavy metallic doors of the lab thrown wide open — Vinny froze.
Inside, chaos.
Sparks flickered from the wall where wires had been ripped out. The glowing blue tube — the one that held Matthew's mother — was hissing, the liquid inside bubbling erratically. Machines flashed red warnings across their screens.
Matthew was already at the tank, hands shaking as he tried to reconnect the disconnected tubes. His voice was raw, desperate — one Vinny had never heard before.
"Come on, come on, not now… please not now—"
His fingers moved fast, expert and trembling, trying to force a connection back into the machinery. Liquid spilled, pooling on the floor. The monitors kept blaring.
"Matthew, what happened—" Vinny started, stepping closer.
"Don't—" Matthew snapped, voice cracking. "Just— stay back!"
But Vinny didn't listen. He crossed the room, ignoring the sharp smell of chemicals and the cold mist from the ruptured tank. Matthew was trying to tighten a clamp, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
The doctor — an older man in a white coat — rushed in seconds later, panic etched across his face. "The stabilizer's down! The life-support module's shutting off—"
"Then fix it!" Matthew shouted, shoving a tool toward him. His hands were slick, blood from where a glass shard had cut his palm. "She doesn't have time— just fix it!"
The doctor's hands moved quickly over the control pad, typing, adjusting — but the beeping turned into one long, flat tone.
The air went still.
"No," Matthew whispered. He turned toward the tank. His mother's body floated still now, the faint glow around her fading. No rise of her chest, no twitch of her fingers. Just silence.
The doctor exhaled shakily. "I'm… I'm so sorry, Mr. Hale. She's—"
Matthew didn't let him finish. He shoved past the man, his hand pressing against the glass. "No. She's not. She's not—" His voice cracked again, breaking into something hollow, feral. "Mom. Mom, please."
The doctor stepped back, quietly shaking his head.
Vinny's throat tightened. He'd seen Matthew angry, cold, manipulative — but this? This was the first time he saw him shatter.
Matthew hit the emergency latch and forced the chamber open. Steam hissed out, spilling into the air. He reached inside and pulled her limp body into his arms, holding her against his chest as if she were fragile porcelain.
"Don't do this," he whispered against her hair. His voice trembled, breaking with each word. "You promised me, you promised you'd stay until I— I fixed everything—"
Vinny stepped forward, instinctively reaching out. "Matthew—"
"Don't." The word came out low, strangled. "Don't come near."
But Vinny did. Slowly, gently, until he was beside him. The sight of Matthew clutching his mother's body, trembling so violently he could barely breathe, punched something deep in his chest.
Vinny crouched down beside him, ignoring the cold floor soaking through his pants, and whispered, "Matthew, please… let her go."
Matthew didn't answer. His fingers were clenched too tight around her, his forehead pressed to her shoulder. Silent sobs racked through him — soundless, suffocating.
The monitors dimmed one by one, each click another nail in the coffin of a hope he'd been holding onto for years.
Vinny's voice shook. "She wouldn't want you to break like this."
"I did everything right," Matthew rasped. "Every experiment. Every deal. Every damn thing I did was for her. And she still—"
His breath hitched, his words dissolving into silence.
Vinny placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. Matthew didn't move. Didn't even seem to feel it. Just kept staring down at the woman he'd lost — his only family, his only anchor — as if the world had gone numb around him.
The doctor quietly backed away, leaving them there — among the hum of dead machines and the smell of sterile failure.
Vinny stayed. He didn't say anything else. He just sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, while Matthew's body shook and his tears hit the floor between them.
When he finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. "She's gone…"
And for the first time since Vinny had met him, Matthew Hale — the man who built walls out of ice and hid behind control — broke completely.