Page 96 of Cavaliere

I smash the top of my head on the roof as I try to sit up, making me cry out as I lay back down. The pounding in my ears intensifies to a new level that I didn’t even think was possible.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Wren,” I mumble to myself, and I try to feel out the lump that has formed on my head. “You know you’re in the trunk. Why would you try to sit up?”

I hope Matteo finds me.

I’m a fighter. You have to be living on my side of the city. But even a fighter can only fight for so long when you’re dealing with an unhinged lunatic.

And that’s exactly what this guy is.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why he thinks I need to die because I helped Matteo and saw his car. Does he know how many people still drive his car around? Maybe not on Matteo’s side of the city, but definitely on mine.

I’m pissed at myself for not having better aim with the letter opener. In a perfect world, I would have fucking killed him, but when has my life ever gone the way I wanted it to? I live in a constant state of ‘welcome to the shit show.’

I couldn’t have done that much damage if he’s still able to drive a car. Assuming that idiot is alone.

My body tenses up as I start to feel the car slow down to turn into what feels like a parking lot from the small dip the car took before going up again. The adrenaline is running through my body at an all-time high as I feel him park the car. I hold my breath as I feel the shocks of the car rise up slightly as he gets out, slamming his door shut behind him. The loud steps of his boots on the pavement echo throughout the trunk as he slowly makes his way toward me. My heart pounds with every step.

The trunk pops open, and my eyes take a moment to adjust, going from pitch-black darkness to one dimly lit by the street lamps. A shadowy figure comes into my line of sight, making me tense from the uncertainty of what’s to come.

He grunts as he bends over, reaching his hand out and pulling me out by my hair. I bite my tongue until it bleeds, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing my cries.

“You can struggle to get away from me all you want out here. No one is going to help you,” he sneers as he tightens his grip on my hair.

It takes me a few seconds to blink away the white dots that cloud my vision from him yanking my head around before I can focus on my surroundings.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye after I take in my old apartment building. The one place I never wanted to come back to. Even if after all of this mess was over and Matteo changed his mind, I wouldn’t come back to this shithole.

What kind of sick game is he playing?

“Go,” he says, shoving me forward. I don’t have enough time to pick up my feet before I’m toppling over the curb, landing hard on my hands and knees. I bite my tongue again, feeling more blood ooze out into my mouth as I try to contain another hiss from the sting. The metallic taste is almost enough to make me throw up, but I swallow it down.

I lift my head up, hoping and praying that Mark is sitting in his spot and not two sheets to the wind yet.

It takes everything in me to not laugh because, of course, out of all of the times I’ve come and gone, the one time I need him here, he’s not.

Fuck.

“Get the fuck up,” he growls, roughly grabbing me by the hair again and yanking me up, sending another jolt of pain through my throbbing head. The cool nighttime air feels like it’s slicing across my skin as it hits the cuts on my palms and knees.

I force myself to place one foot in front of the other with no other choice but to enter the building.

“What are you stopping for?”

I swallow as I quickly try to figure out how to answer in a way that won’t push him out of crazy town and into murder city. “I don’t have a place here anymore,” I say as slowly as possible, hoping something will penetrate.

The laugh he lets out is sickening. “Oh, I know. Good ‘ole Matteo just swoops in and saves the day. Everyone wants to be Matteo. I’m fucking sick of it. Matteo this. Matteo that,” he rants. “I don’t get it. What’s so great about fucking Matteo? I try and try to climb the ranks, and no one fucking notices me. No one fucking pays attention. Do you want to know how I’m rewarded for my hard work?”

I decide to stay silent because I get the feeling he doesn’t actually want to hear my answer.

“I’m cast aside and made to do a job that’s meant for a fucking kid.” He spits on the ground. “It’s fucking beneath me. Beneath me!” he yells. “Go.”

“Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His angry whisper is sickening, sending a chill down my spine.

“I’m not playing dumb,” I grit out. “I don’t have the keys.”

“Why would I need a key? I didn’t need one the last time I visited.” He smirks. A wave of nausea hits as the memory of him dragging me out of the bedroom comes flooding back. I hear a click just before I feel something cool and hard press into my side. “Now, I’m not going to repeat myself again, so you better get fucking moving.”