The silence in the room felt heavy, almost alive. Vinny could hear the faint hum of the security system behind the walls, the subtle whirring of cameras hidden in the corners. His ankle throbbed where the chain met skin — cold metal against warm flesh. Every sound echoed too loud: his breath, the creak of the floor, his pulse hammering in his ears.
He didn't scream or kick the door again.
He just stood there, staring at the faint shimmer of sunlight slipping through the curtains, thinking about how far things had gone.
The doorknob clicked.
Matthew stepped in quietly, like a ghost that had been waiting. His black shirt was half-unbuttoned, his hair slightly disheveled as though he hadn't slept. His eyes — stormy, sharp, haunted — found Vinny immediately.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
"You shouldn't have tried the door," Matthew finally said, his voice a low command. "The lock is there for a reason."
Vinny turned slowly. "A reason?" His tone cracked into something fragile and sharp all at once. "You chained me, Matthew. I'm not your prisoner."
Matthew's jaw clenched. He moved closer, measured, controlled, the air between them tightening with every step. "You think I want to do this?" His hand brushed the air, as if he wanted to touch Vinny but didn't dare. "After what happened to my mother, after—" He stopped himself, breathing uneven. "I can't lose someone else."
Vinny swallowed. "So, this is your solution? Cage me? You think that keeps people from leaving? That's not love, Matthew."
A muscle jumped in Matthew's jaw. "Love makes people desperate, Vinny."
Their gazes locked — burning, defiant. For a moment, neither was sure who the real danger was.
Vinny took a step closer, the chain rattling softly. "You're desperate because you care," he said, voice quieter now. "I get that. But if you really do… then remove it. Let me walk to you because I want to, not because I'm trapped."
Matthew's breath hitched. The logic hit him harder than any threat could.
But his eyes stayed dark. "And if you leave?"
Vinny's lips curled into something between defiance and tenderness. "Then you'll know I wasn't yours to begin with."
A pause.
The storm between them shifted — not gone, just quieter.
Matthew reached out finally, fingers brushing Vinny's cheek. His touch trembled — not from fear, but from restraint. "You make it sound so easy," he whispered. "But everything I touch disappears."
Vinny tilted his head slightly into his hand, his voice soft but steady. "Then stop crushing what you want to keep."
That broke something in him.
Matthew leaned closer, his forehead resting against Vinny's for a heartbeat — just a heartbeat. Their breath tangled, shallow and charged, and the tension that had been brewing for days pulsed between them. His thumb traced Vinny's jaw, slow, reverent, but heavy with possession.
"Don't test me, Vinny," he murmured. "You don't understand what I'd do for you."
"I think I do," Vinny replied, his tone steady despite the warmth rushing through his chest. "And that's what scares me."
Their words hung there — fragile, magnetic, impossible. The silence afterward was filled with unsaid apologies and a thousand threats neither of them dared voice.
Matthew's hand finally fell away. He stood there for a moment, gaze flicking to the chain, then back to Vinny's eyes.
"Give me time," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Just… give me time to trust again."
Vinny nodded slowly. "Then start by unlocking the chain."
Matthew's expression darkened, not from anger but from conflict — the constant war between the man he was and the man he wanted to be for Vinny. He didn't answer. He turned away instead, his silence heavier than words.
As he walked to the door, Vinny's voice cut through the air:
"I'm not running, Matthew. But if you keep holding me like this… I might start wanting to."
That made him stop.
For a second, it looked like he might turn back — might unlock the chain, or say something human. But then he just whispered, "Don't make me doubt you," and left.
The door locked again with a faint click.
Vinny sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the window, heart pounding.
He wasn't sure if he felt pity for Matthew… or fear for himself.
But one thing he knew:
Whatever was between them — it wasn't love anymore.
It was something darker, something dangerous.
And it was only just beginning to unravel.
Morning in Matthew's estate never felt gentle.
The sun bled in through half-drawn curtains, turning the polished marble floor into sheets of cold gold. Somewhere far below, guards moved in careful rhythm, radios whispering in clipped tones. The sound was meant to reassure Matthew, but lately it only reminded him that nothing was safe unless he controlled it.
He hadn't slept. The argument with Vinny kept replaying—his voice, the chain, the tremor in his own hands when he'd almost unlocked it. He'd told himself he'd done it to keep Vinny safe, that the world outside these walls wanted to steal him away, but deep down he knew it was more than that.
He was afraid.
Afraid of losing what little he had left, afraid of seeing another body he loved fade away in front of him.
He stood by the window of his study, untouched coffee growing cold beside a stack of papers he hadn't read. His reflection in the glass looked nothing like the man who ran the Mercato del Muerte. The kingpin who could silence a city with a word was gone—what remained was a man who couldn't let go of one person.
"Sir?" a voice came from the door. It was one of his lieutenants, nervous to interrupt. "The lab's final report on the tampering… nothing conclusive yet."
Matthew's jaw tightened. "Keep digging. Someone did this, and they'll bleed for it."
"Yes, sir." The man left quickly.
When the door shut, Matthew pressed his palms against the desk and exhaled, eyes unfocused. Someone tampered with her tubes. Someone reached past my walls.
And if they could reach her, they could reach Vinny.
That thought was a spark to gunpowder.
He picked up his phone, sending a new order: double the guards on every entrance, restrict staff movement, report anything unusual. By the time he finished typing, guilt had already started whispering in his chest.
Vinny woke up to the metallic whisper of the chain again.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before sitting up. The room smelled faintly of cedar and smoke—Matthew's scent, soaked into every surface. He flexed his ankle, testing the length of the chain; it reached far enough to let him cross to the bathroom, not far enough to touch the window.
It wasn't just restraint. It was a reminder.
You're inside his world now. His rules, his fears.
He washed his face, letting cold water clear the fog in his head. He needed to think.
Anger wouldn't help. Pity wouldn't help either. Matthew was dangerous precisely because he believed he was protecting what he loved.
When the door clicked open behind him, Vinny didn't turn.
He could see Matthew's reflection in the mirror: shoulders rigid, expression unreadable.
"You didn't eat," Matthew said quietly. "You need to."
Vinny met his gaze through the mirror. "You think I can eat while chained?"
Something flickered in Matthew's eyes—shame, maybe. "I'll remove it soon."
"When?" Vinny asked, turning slowly. "You keep saying that, but nothing changes."
Matthew's silence said everything.
Vinny stepped closer, closing the distance until only inches remained. The tension between them hummed like static. "If you really want to protect me," he said softly, "then let me breathe. Let me stand next to you without a leash."
Matthew's throat worked as he swallowed. "You think I don't want that? Every time you look at me like that—like I'm something you have to escape—it feels like the floor disappears under me."
Vinny's voice lowered, calm but edged. "Then stop digging the hole."
For a second, it looked as if Matthew might break again. His fingers brushed the chain as if the touch alone could undo it. Instead, he drew back. "Not yet," he murmured. "Not until I know you're safe."
Vinny smiled faintly, masking the twist in his chest. "Then I'll have to make you believe it."
The rest of the day passed in a strange rhythm.
Matthew threw himself into work, barking orders, reviewing reports, anything to bury the noise in his head. Yet every time he looked up from a document, his mind went back to Vinny—what he'd said, how his voice had trembled between defiance and something tender. The memory dug into him, blurring anger into longing.
Vinny, meanwhile, studied every guard rotation, every hallway camera. He moved with careful obedience, never loud enough to trigger suspicion, never soft enough to look defeated.
Every small freedom he earned—extra minutes in the library, a walk to the balcony—he used to map exits in his mind.
But at night, when Matthew stopped pretending to be the cold ruler and lingered near him, the distance between them felt less clear. The chain gleamed faintly in the lamplight, yet somehow their shadows still touched on the wall.
"Do you ever stop thinking?" Matthew asked once, voice a rough whisper.
"Only when you stop watching," Vinny answered, and the line between threat and affection vanished again.
They stood there for a long moment, both knowing the walls were closing in and neither quite ready to break them down.