The dull thud of Matthew's boots echoed in the hallway as he stepped into Vinny's apartment, still smelling of rust and blood. His shirt clung to his skin, dried with sweat and crimson splatter, and a fresh gash split open across his cheek. The fight at the warehouse had ended in a brutal victory, but it left him hollow. He didn't knock. He didn't have to.
Vinny was curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled over his head, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't worried at all. But the second he looked up—he froze.
"Matt?" His voice cracked. "What the f—what happened to you?"
Matthew didn't answer right away. He stepped inside, shut the door, and locked it. He was shaking slightly—adrenaline was crashing out of his system—but he didn't let it show.
Vinny stood slowly, eyes wide, taking in the blood, the bruises, the torn knuckles. "You look like you went through hell."
"I did."
There was silence, heavy and sharp.
"Who did this?" Vinny asked, voice lower now.
Matthew didn't respond. His jaw clenched, green eyes stormy with something unreadable. He didn't want to drag Vinny into it—not yet. Not until he figured out how much Vinny knew. If he knew. If he had anything to do with it at all.
Vinny stepped closer, raising a hand to touch Matthew's face gently. "Come on," he murmured. "Let me clean you up."
Elsewhere, across town
Tom stared out the window of his bedroom, one hand playing idly with the lighter he always carried. The flame flicked on, then off. On. Off. His expression was blank—too blank.
"You sent too many men," Kieran said from the corner. He was leaned back on Tom's desk chair, legs crossed, arms folded.
Tom didn't look at him. "I sent enough."
"He walked away."
"Barely."
"That's not the point." Kieran's voice was cool. "The point is you didn't get rid of him. Again."
Tom turned, finally, and the look in his eyes was sharp enough to cut steel. "You think I was trying to get rid of him? If I wanted him dead, he'd be dead. This wasn't about killing him."
"No?" Kieran arched a brow. "Then what was it? Teaching him a lesson?"
"It was a reminder," Tom said simply. "That he doesn't belong in this."
Kieran scoffed. "You really think Vinny's gonna forgive you for this?"
"I don't need him to forgive me. I need him to see." Tom's voice dipped darker. "Matthew's not the one for him. He never was."
Kieran leaned forward, lacing his fingers. "And you are?"
Tom didn't answer.
Kieran laughed under his breath. "God, you're more far gone than I thought."
Back at Vinny's
Matthew sat on the bathroom counter while Vinny dabbed at the wound on his cheek with disinfectant. His expression was unreadable, focused.
"You should be in the hospital," Vinny said. "Or, I don't know, a war camp."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
"I've bled worse."
Vinny looked up at him. "You're avoiding the question."
"What question?"
"What happened."
Matthew's gaze didn't waver. "Don't worry about it."
Vinny's brows pulled together. "Don't worry about it? You're lucky I was home."
"Would've broken in anyway."
Vinny sighed. "You're insufferable."
"Not news."
Vinny leaned back, folding his arms. "Did someone send you there?"
Matthew didn't answer.
Vinny's eyes narrowed. "Was it Tom?"
Silence.
"I swear to God, Matt—"
"It doesn't matter." Matthew's voice was quieter now. "I handled it."
Vinny stared at him, frustration warring with concern. "You shouldn't have to handle anything alone."
"I don't mind the bruises," Matthew said. "I mind the lies."
That shut Vinny up. For a second, he looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar—guilty, vulnerable, speechless.
"Did you know?" Matthew asked, voice a little lower. "About anything?"
Vinny licked his lips, averting his gaze. "No. I mean—Tom doesn't tell me everything."
"But he tells you some things."
"Yeah."
"And you don't stop him?"
Vinny hesitated. "I didn't think he'd go that far."
Matthew laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You didn't think. That's the problem, isn't it?"
Vinny looked up at him, wounded. "Matt—"
"I'm tired," Matthew said, sliding off the counter. "I need a shower. And maybe a new life."
Vinny watched him go, guilt heavy in his chest.
Tom's Apartment – Later that Night
Tom sat in the same place, still playing with his lighter, when his phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
"He survived. You failed."
Tom's jaw clenched. Another text followed.
"Time to escalate."
His eyes flicked up to the mirror, where his reflection stared back—calm, cold, calculating.
"I warned you, Matthew," he murmured. "You should've left when you could."
Vinny's Apartment – Midnight
Matthew stood under the spray of the shower, water stinging every scrape and bruise. Blood mixed with the soap, swirling down the drain. His mind was loud.
Tom knew too much. Did too much.
And Vinny—Vinny had been too quiet. Too complicit.
Matthew wanted to believe Vinny didn't know. That he hadn't had anything to do with it. But the doubt—it dug deep.
When he came out, a towel around his waist, Vinny was sitting on the edge of the bed. Quiet. Waiting.
Matthew crossed the room, slow.
Vinny looked up at him. "Can you sleep?"
"No."
Vinny hesitated. "Do you want me to leave?"
Matthew shook his head. "No."
Vinny stood, walked over to him, and slowly placed his hand over Matthew's heart. "Then let me stay."
There was a moment of silence between them, charged and dangerous.
"Just don't lie to me again," Matthew murmured.
Vinny didn't promise. He just nodded.
And they stood there—bloodstained, broken, bruised—but still choosing each other, even if the ground beneath them was cracked and splintering.