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Before we could fully process the gunshots that had shattered the quiet, the door crashed open, splintering the peace further.
Panic seized our hearts, and we instinctively clutched the sheets to cover ourselves from the intruder.
What's going on?
The abrupt entrance of a stranger shattered the tranquility that had enveloped us and tore through the serenity like a storm.
He burst into the room in a whirlwind of motion and unknown intentions, his presence starkly contrasting with the intimacy we had shared just moments ago.
Our eyes locked in shared surprise, the unspoken question hanging in the air like a suspended note in a melody.
What had prompted this intrusion, and what chaos was about to follow?
The room that had once been a haven of intimacy now buzzed with a palpable tension, an unspoken acknowledgment that the unexpected had taken hold.
The silence that followed was charged with uncertainty, the air heavy with the weight of the stranger's presence.
As if the scene couldn't become more surreal, the stranger's voice sliced through the tension, a burst of urgent words I couldn't comprehend.
The language sounded foreign yet vaguely familiar, tinged with urgency and a sense of authority.
“Dante! Dobbiamo andare ora! Hanno iniziato ad attaccare prima di quanto ci aspettassimo! Penso che si siano insospettiti e abbiano iniziato a sparare!”
(We have to go now! They started attacking earlier than we expected! I think they got suspicious and started shooting.)
I watched in bewilderment as Matteo reacted to the stranger's words, his features hardening as understanding dawned.
“Qualcuno è stato colpito?” (Has anyone been hit?)
“No. Siamo riusciti a reagire in tempo.” (No. We were able to react in time.)
"Andiamo!" (Let’s go!)
Their conversation held an urgency that matched the stranger's abrupt entry. The realization that they shared a common language – one – that remained foreign to my ears – left me feeling like an outsider in my skin.
As the stranger's words continued to flow, Matteo's demeanor shifted. His movements became purposeful, a blend of urgency and calculation as he untangled himself from the sheets and scrambled into his clothes.
The room had transformed from a haven to a battlefield of unknown intentions, and I found myself frozen in place, caught between the desire to flee and the compulsion to understand.
Matteo's voice, firm and commanding, reached me over the chaos of my thoughts. "Stay here, Sophia. Don't leave the room, no matter what you hear or see."
The weight of his words held a gravity that rooted me to the spot, torn between the desire to obey and the instinct to flee the mounting uncertainty.
Before I could fully process his directive, he was gone, following the stranger out of the room and disappearing from my line of sight.
The room felt suffocating, the walls closing around me as panic tightened. With trembling hands, I quickly began to dress, the urgency of the situation propelling me into motion.
The bed that had been a site of intimacy was now a battleground of emotions. There was no way I was going to listen to Matteo's words and stay here!
End Flashback.
I drained the bathtub and stood up. Even just thinking about that night was enough to make me aroused.
At first, I had thought that would be the last time we would meet, but to my surprise and horror, I saw him immediately in the car park when he appeared later to shoot that man.
As I dressed, I couldn't help but wonder. Was Matteo the man I thought he was?
Chapter 4
