Vinny's pulse thundered in his ears. The sound of the lock clicking echoed louder than it should have, like the walls were mocking him. His wrists trembled as he tugged at the chain around his ankle — the cold metal biting into skin that still felt warm from Matthew's touch earlier.
He didn't understand how everything had fallen apart so fast. Just hours ago, they'd argued, but Matthew's voice had been calm — too calm. The kind of calm that came before the storm. And then darkness, the bitter taste of something in his drink, and now this.
The door opened with a slow groan.
Matthew stepped in, the dim light framing him like something both human and monstrous. His tie was loose, his shirt slightly unbuttoned — not from carelessness, but from exhaustion. Or maybe restraint.
Vinny's breath hitched as those cold eyes landed on him.
Matthew's voice was quiet, dangerous in how even it sounded.
"You really thought I wouldn't find out?"
Vinny flinched at the tone — not because it was loud, but because it wasn't. The softness made it worse.
"You drugged me," Vinny whispered, throat dry. "You chained me."
Matthew stepped closer, his shoes silent against the marble floor.
"Because you were going to leave me."
There it was — the truth. Raw, unvarnished, and sharp enough to cut.
Vinny swallowed hard. "You don't own me, Matthew."
The faintest hint of a smile touched Matthew's lips — small, almost gentle, but terrifying. He crouched down, reaching out until his hand hovered near Vinny's face.
"Don't I?" he murmured, voice like silk over a blade. "I thought I did… after everything."
Vinny jerked his head away, the chain clinking as he moved. "You can't just keep me here like—"
"Like what?" Matthew interrupted softly, leaning in until their foreheads nearly touched. "Like I need to? Like I have no choice?"
Vinny's chest rose and fell too fast. Matthew's presence felt like gravity — suffocating, inescapable. He wanted to shove him away, but every instinct screamed that if he moved wrong, Matthew might shatter completely.
"This isn't love," Vinny said, voice trembling despite himself.
"No," Matthew breathed, his eyes dark and glassy. "It's not love. It's something worse."
His hand brushed Vinny's cheek — a slow, reverent touch that made Vinny's heart twist with confusion. The gentleness hurt more than anger ever could.
"You said you wanted to understand me," Matthew continued, his tone distant. "Then stay. Watch what happens when the only thing keeping me sane tries to run."
Vinny's throat tightened. The anger in him warred with guilt, with the ghost of empathy he didn't want to feel.
"You're scaring me," he whispered.
"Good," Matthew said softly. "Maybe you'll stop trying to leave."
Vinny stared at him — really stared — and for the first time, he saw it. Not madness. Not cruelty. But grief. A loneliness so vast it swallowed everything else.
"You think chaining me will make me stay?" Vinny whispered.
"No," Matthew said after a long pause. "But it'll make me breathe a little longer."
He leaned in, his breath brushing Vinny's skin — close enough to feel, not enough to touch. His gaze flickered between Vinny's eyes and his lips, full of something dark and desperate.
"Don't make me lose you too," he murmured. "Not after her."
That name — the unspoken her — hung between them like a ghost. His mother.
Vinny felt his chest tighten. The cold fury he'd felt minutes ago cracked, letting something almost tender slip through. He wanted to scream, to curse him, but all he could do was whisper,
"Matthew…"
Matthew pressed his forehead against Vinny's shoulder, his voice shaking for the first time.
"I can't bury another person I love."
Vinny froze.
Love. That word again — twisted, broken, and real in a way that scared him more than anything else.
Matthew's hands tightened briefly on Vinny's waist before he pulled back, forcing a strained smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Sleep," he said softly, brushing a thumb under Vinny's eye. "You'll feel better in the morning."
"You mean I'll still be chained in the morning."
Matthew's lips curved. "Then you'll feel better eventually."
He stood, his expression unreadable now — a mask over the chaos burning beneath. Vinny didn't move, didn't speak. The only sound was the quiet rattle of the chain as Matthew turned to leave.
But at the door, he stopped — half in shadow, half in light.
"You said I don't own you," Matthew murmured without turning around. "But tell me, Vinny… if I didn't, why does it hurt this much when you try to run?"
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Vinny sat there, the echo of Matthew's words wrapping around him tighter than the chain ever could. And for the first time, he realized the most dangerous part wasn't the metal around his ankle — it was the thread of emotion Matthew had already wrapped around his heart.
The next morning felt heavier than night.
The air itself seemed thick with unspoken things, the kind that suffocated more than silence ever could.
Vinny sat on the edge of the bed, fingers toying with the cold chain around his ankle. It had been hours since Matthew left, but his scent still lingered in the room — faint traces of his cologne, smoke, and something darker that made Vinny's stomach twist.
He hated that it didn't just make him angry.
He hated that part of him still felt something when he thought of Matthew's eyes last night — the way grief had cracked through all that control.
The door opened without a sound.
Matthew stepped in, his presence filling the room instantly. He was dressed sharply, as always — black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a watch glinting under the soft light. His hair was damp, like he'd just come from the shower.
He didn't speak. Neither did Vinny.
The silence between them wasn't empty — it was alive.
Matthew's gaze dropped briefly to the chain, then back up to Vinny's face. Something flickered behind those eyes — guilt, maybe. Or something close enough to it to look human.
"You didn't eat," Matthew finally said.
"Maybe I wasn't hungry," Vinny replied flatly, not looking at him.
Matthew's jaw tightened. "You need to eat."
"You need to let me go."
That made Matthew's eyes flash — a spark, brief but dangerous. He took a slow step forward. Then another. Vinny didn't move.
"Don't start," Matthew said, voice low, almost pleading. "Not today."
Vinny scoffed softly, though his heart had started to pound. "You think you can keep me here forever? What happens when you get tired of playing house with your prisoner?"
Matthew stopped in front of him. The tension was so sharp it could've drawn blood.
"Do I look tired to you?" he murmured.
Vinny looked up at him — at the faint bruise under his eye, at the exhaustion etched into every perfect line of his face — and hated how much he wanted to touch him.
"You look like someone who doesn't know what he wants anymore," Vinny whispered.
Matthew's eyes darkened. "You're wrong," he said quietly. "I know exactly what I want."
And before Vinny could reply, Matthew leaned down — close enough that their foreheads nearly touched. His breath was warm, his voice a whisper that vibrated between them.
"Stop pretending you don't feel it too."
Vinny's pulse stuttered. His throat tightened.
"You think this is love?" he said, voice trembling. "You think keeping me chained makes what you feel real?"
Matthew's lips ghosted against his cheek — not quite a kiss, just a whisper of one.
"No," he murmured. "But it keeps you here."
Vinny turned his head sharply — meaning to pull away — but Matthew's hand caught his chin, fingers gentle yet unyielding. Their eyes locked.
And then — it happened.
The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't even kind. It was desperate, full of anger, confusion, and years of pain neither of them knew how to name.
Vinny pushed at Matthew's chest, but Matthew only deepened the kiss — not forceful, not cruel, just anchored, like he was trying to breathe through Vinny.
Vinny wanted to hate it. He tried to. But his body betrayed him — trembling not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of wanting something he knew was wrong.
When Matthew finally pulled back, their breaths collided — ragged, uneven.
"You shouldn't have done that," Vinny whispered, voice barely audible.
Matthew's thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, his eyes searching Vinny's like he was trying to memorize him.
"I know," he said softly. "But you didn't stop me either."
Vinny's stomach twisted, shame and longing tangled into something he didn't have words for.
"You're breaking me," he breathed.
"You're the one who started it," Matthew replied quietly. "Walking into my world… then pretending you could walk out."
Vinny's hands clenched in the sheets, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. Matthew's gaze softened, but only slightly.
"Eat something," Matthew said at last, his tone returning to its usual command. "You'll need your strength."
Vinny glared up at him. "For what?"
"To keep fighting me," Matthew said with a faint, broken smile. "You seem to enjoy it."
And then he turned, leaving the room — his control held together by threads, his silence louder than any scream.
Vinny sat there long after he was gone, his lips still burning, his mind spiraling.
He told himself he hated him.
He told himself it was all part of the plan.
But his heart didn't believe a word of it.