Page 35 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Hazel

I must have dozed off on the sofa after Evelyn left. My neck aches from the awkward angle, and the mansion is quiet around me. A sharp buzzing sound jolts me awake. The phone vibrates on the coffee table, screen lighting up with a new message notification.

My heart lurches into my throat. Only a handful of people have this number—Evelyn, Maria, my mother. And Elliott.

I reach for the phone with trembling fingers, already knowing what I'll find. The number displayed on the screen makes my stomach drop.

Elliott.

I swipe open the message, my breath catching.

Hazel, baby. I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you run. I love you. I miss you. I just want you to come home.

My fingers grip the phone as I read, bile rising in my throat. Classic Elliott—apologizing without acknowledging what he actually did. Making it seem like I'm overreacting.

The message continues:

I'll wait for you, darling. Take the time you need. I know married couples always find their way back to each other. We took vows, remember? For better or worse.

I can almost hear his voice, that silky, reasonable tone he uses when he's trying to manipulate me. The same voice he used after the first time he hit me, when he brought me twelve dozen roses and promised it would never happen again.

Then my eyes catch the last part of his message and the room tilts around me.

Your father's next surgery is scheduled for Tuesday.

Would be a shame if something went wrong.

Your mother seems stressed at work lately—Montgomery Industries can be so demanding.

And Jake... well, you know how dangerous sports practice can be for a fifteen-year-old boy. Accidents happen all the time.

I'll be waiting, sweetheart. Don't make me wait too long.

The phone slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I can't breathe. My chest feels like it's being crushed under an enormous weight.

He's threatening my family.

I press my hand against my mouth to stifle the sob that tears from my throat. The walls of the room seem to close in around me. I need air. I need to think.

Standing up too quickly makes my head spin. I stumble toward the French doors leading to the garden, fumbling with the handle before pushing them open. The cool night air hits my face but it doesn't soothe the panic clawing at my chest.

I pace the garden path, gravel crunching beneath my feet. Elliott's threats echo in my mind.

I stop abruptly, my hands balling into fists at my sides. What am I doing? I can’t leave this compound. Running away in the middle of the night won't solve anything. Hiding at my mother’s house will only draw down more vengeance on my family.

For two years I've been reacting to Elliott—tiptoeing around his moods, anticipating his anger, trying to make myself invisible. Even now I'm letting him dictate my actions with his threats.

I take a deep breath, forcing my lungs to expand despite the tightness in my chest. I'm not that woman anymore. I was independent before Elliott. I supported my family. I made my own decisions. I survived.

Going back to him isn't an option. It would only lead to worse abuse—punishment for daring to leave. And next time he might not stop before putting me in the hospital. Or worse.

My family needs me alive and free, not trapped and broken.

I pull out the phone and stare at Elliott's message again. The threat is clear, calculated to hit me where I'm most vulnerable. He knows exactly how to manipulate me.

But I'm not alone anymore.

My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before I open a new message. I type Matteo's name then pause, considering what to say. Pride and fear battle inside me—pride that wants to handle this myself, fear of what might happen if I don't ask for help.

I think of my brother's face. Jake is just fifteen. He doesn't deserve to pay for my decisions.

I start typing.

Elliott texted me. He's threatening my family.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

The response comes almost immediately.

Where are you?

Garden .

Don't move.

I hug my arms around myself, shivering in the night air. The mansion looms behind me, its windows like dark eyes watching.

Matteo

I jolt awake to the phone buzzing, disoriented in the darkness of my room at the Feretti mansion. The screen reads 2:17 a.m. Every muscle in my body goes rigid when I read Hazel's message.

Fuck.

I'm on my feet before I even finish reading, pulling on jeans and grabbing my gun from the nightstand drawer. Blood gushes in my veins with the adrenaline of rage. That bastard Montgomery is going to die. It's just a matter of when and how painful I make it.

I move silently through the mansion's dark hallways. The security system recognizes my fingerprint as I disable the alarm for the garden entrance and I step outside, scanning the shadows.

I spot her immediately—a small figure standing alone beneath an oak tree, arms hugging herself, face tilted toward the sky. Even from this distance I can read the tension in her shoulders, the slight tremble in her frame.

A sharp ache blooms in my chest at the sight of her looking so vulnerable and yet so fucking brave at the same time.

I approach quietly, not wanting to startle her. "Hazel."

She turns, moonlight catching the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her eyes are wide, haunted. "He's going to hurt them if I don't go back," she whispers.

"Let me see," I say, holding out my hand for her phone.

She hesitates before passing it to me. I read Montgomery's messages, each word stoking the fire burning inside me. The casual way he threatens her family, the manipulative endearments—it's textbook abuser bullshit.

"He's bluffing," I say, though I'm not entirely sure. "Trying to scare you into running back to him."

"You don't know that." Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. "My dad's surgery is real. My brother really does have sports practice. These aren't empty threats."

I close the distance between us, unable to stand seeing her cry. My hands cup her face, thumbs brushing away the tears that keep falling. Her skin is chilled from the night air but soft beneath my calloused fingers.

"Hey, look at me." I wait until her eyes meet mine. "I've got you. You hear me? I've got you."

She trembles under my touch, more tears spilling over. I press my lips to her wet cheek, tasting the salt of her fear. "He's not going to hurt your family. He's not going to hurt you. "

"You can't promise that," she whispers.

"Watch me." I hold her face between my hands, making her see the truth in my eyes. "I protect what's mine, Hazel. And right now that includes your family."

She opens her mouth to argue, probably to tell me I'm not hers and she's not mine but I don't give her the chance.

"I know we're complicated. I know you've got every reason not to trust men, especially men like me. But I need you to believe me when I say Elliott Montgomery will never touch you or your family again."

She nods in a way that speaks louder than words could ever do.

I press my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "I'm going to take care of everything. You don’t need to go."

"I'm not going anywhere," she says like she can read me like a fucking open book.

"Good." I brush my lips across her forehead. "Because I'm not letting you go again."

Hazel pulls away from me, her body stiffening. "Don't say things like that when you already have a girlfriend."

“Whoa.” I freeze, my hands still hovering where her face had been seconds ago. "What?"

"I know about her." Her voice cracks slightly. "You could at least be honest about seeing other women."

My brain scrambles to make sense of her words. Girlfriend? What the fuck is she talking about?

"Hazel, I don't have a girlfriend. I've never had a girlfriend in my entire life."

She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Don't lie to me. Not after everything." She pulls the phone out once more, tapping the screen with trembling fingers before turning it toward me. "This came yesterday morning."

The image strikes me like lightning. I’m in bed with Vanessa, naked and tangled in sheets. The timestamp reads 7:13 a.m.—about an hour after I left Hazel's room yesterday.

"What the fuck?" I growl, my grip tightening on the phone until I picture the screen shattering.

"There was a message too," Hazel says quietly, taking the phone and scrolling to show me.

"Fucking Vanessa," I spit. My mind races, piecing it all together. "This is bullshit, Hazel. That picture is from months ago."

"The timestamp?—"

"Can be faked. Look at me." I step closer, my tone deadly serious. "I was with you that night. I left your bed and went straight to my apartment to shower before meeting Daniel."

Her eyes scour mine, looking for deception. "Who is she?"

"Nobody important. Someone I used to sleep with occasionally." I don't sugarcoat it. "She showed up at the casino the other day, trying to pick up where we left off. I turned her down. Told her I wasn't interested."

"And she didn't take rejection well?" Hazel asks, doubt still lacing her voice.

"Apparently not." That's when it hits me and anger pulses hard enough that I may blow. "So this is why you were pushing me away? You thought I fucked someone else right after being with you?"

She nods, looking away. "It wouldn't be the first time a man told me I was special while continuing to hurt me."

The grief in her voice slices through me. I reach for her hand, glad she doesn't pull away.

"Listen to me. I don't do relationships. Never have. But I also don't lie. Never have." I squeeze her hand with all the support I can gather.

Hazel

I stare at Matteo, analysing his words. The conviction in his eyes makes me want to believe him, but I've been fooled before. Elliott could sound just as sincere while he lied to my face.

I feel so stupid . Exhaustion drags over me like a physical weight. I'm tired of running, tired of being afraid, tired of not knowing who to trust.

I tilt my face upward, seeking refuge in the vast expanse above us. The night sky stretches endlessly, scattered with countless stars that shimmer against the darkness.

"They're beautiful tonight," I murmur, grateful for something pure and uncomplicated to focus on. "So bright out here, away from the city lights."

Matteo moves beside me, his presence warm in the cool night air. "Beautiful," he agrees, his voice low.

I turn to find his eyes fixed on me, not the sky.

"Stars burn for billions of years before they die," he continues, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "That's what I see when I look at you, Hazel. Someone who keeps burning despite everything trying to extinguish her light."

The lump in my throat grows huge. "I'm not?—"

"You are," he interrupts gently. "Montgomery tried to dim you. He tried to own your light. But here you are, still shining."

The tears come without warning, hot trails pour down my cold cheeks. I'm so tired of crying, of this constant emotional whiplash. Yet I can't stop the flood once it starts.

"I'm sorry," I manage, wiping at my face. "I'm always crying like a baby these days. Over everything. Big things, small things... I never used to cry at all."

Matteo's calloused fingers find my chin, tilting my face up to his. "Don't apologize for feeling," he says, his thumb brushing away a tear. "Not to me. Not ever."

His lips press softly against my wet cheek, kissing away the tears on one side, then the other. Each touch is gentle, reverent almost, as if he's handling something precious.

"I thought I was being smart," I confess as his lips brush my temple. "Pushing you away after seeing that photo. Protecting myself."

"I know," he murmurs against my skin.

"But I was just running scared again." My hands find the front of his shirt, clutching the fabric. "I'm so tired of being afraid, Matteo."

His arms encircle me, pulling me against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, as he rests his chin on top of my head.

"Then let me be afraid for you," he says, his voice rumbling through his chest wall. "Let me carry that for a while."

I close my eyes, breathing in his scent. For this moment I allow myself to believe it's possible. That I can hand over my fear to someone else, just for a little while.

More tears slip free, soaking into his shirt. He strokes my hair, patient and soothing as I cry out the confusion, the hurt, the exhaustion of the past days.

When I finally quieten he pulls back just enough to look at my face. His thumb traces the curve of my cheek, wiping away the lingering wetness.

"Better?" he asks softly.

I nod, suddenly self-conscious about my tear-stained face and red eyes. "I must look a mess."

The corner of his mouth lifts in that half-smile that makes my heart skip. "You look like a goddess warrior who's been through battle."

"Some warrior," I say with a watery laugh. "Warriors don't break down crying in gardens at two in the morning."

"The best ones do," he counters, his eyes never leaving mine. "It means they're still human under all that armor."

For the first time in what feels like forever, my mind clears and it feels like the puzzle pieces are finally clicking into place.

"I'm done running," I say, my voice steadier than I expected.

"Elliott's threatening my family because he knows it's the one thing that will make me fold.

" My voice grows stronger with each word.

"He knows I'd sacrifice myself to keep them safe.

That's what he's counting on. That ends now," I say with finality. "Whatever it takes."