Night did not fall gently.
It collapsed.
The island was quieter than it had ever been, the kind of quiet that didn't belong to nature but to aftermath. Even the sea seemed careful now, its waves pulling back softly, like it didn't want to disturb the dead.
Matt followed Ferus along the reef, barefoot, every step sharp against shells and stone. His body was moving on instinct. His mind hadn't caught up yet. It was still stuck on the sound of gunfire. On his mother's cry. On the way Gabriel fell without even knowing why.
He stopped walking.
Ferus noticed immediately.
"You don't have to say anything," Ferus said softly. "Not yet."
Matt shook his head. His throat burned.
"I do," he said. "If I don't… I think I'll break."
They sat on a fallen palm trunk near the waterline. The moon was high now, pale and unforgiving. It lit the island enough to show what remained — scorch marks near the villa, dark stains the tide hadn't reached yet.
Matt stared at the sand.
"It was yesterday," he said. His voice cracked on the word. "Yesterday, we were laughing."
Ferus didn't respond. He waited. He knew better.
Matt swallowed. His hands trembled in his lap.
"My dad was joking about steaks," he continued. "Like he always did. Acting like food was the most important thing in the world."
A breath hitched. "My mom laughed. She always laughed first. Even when the joke wasn't funny."
His eyes burned. Tears came fast now, hot and humiliating.
"I heard her scream," Matt whispered. "I heard it before I saw anything. And I ran like I could still save her."
He pressed his fists into his eyes, but it didn't help.
"I saw a man shoot her," he said. "I didn't even see his face. Just… a tattoo. That's all I have. A stupid tattoo."
Ferus's jaw tightened. His eyes were wet now too, though he tried to hide it, rubbing his face with the back of his hand like dust had gotten in it.
"They killed Gabriel," Matt went on. "He didn't even fight. He just… called their name. Like they were still his parents and could protect him."
Matt broke then.
His shoulders shook. His chest caved inward. The sound that came out of him wasn't loud, but it was deep — a grief that had nowhere to go.
Ferus pulled him in without asking.
Matt resisted for half a second, pride flaring uselessly, then collapsed against him. He cried into Ferus's shoulder like a child who'd lost the only place that ever felt safe.
Ferus cried too. Silent, contained, the way people cry when they think it's illegal to fall apart. He wiped his face quickly, then held Matt tighter.
"You're not alone," Ferus said hoarsely. "You hear me? Not now. Not ever."
Matt pulled back just enough to look at him.
"Because of what happened," Matt said, his voice low and shaking, "I have to find who did this. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care how many bodies I have to step over."
His eyes hardened, grief sharpening into something dangerous.
"Even if it means killing every living being connected to this."
Ferus let out a short, broken laugh through his tears.
"Including me?"
Matt blinked, then frowned.
"No," he said immediately. "Dummy. You're… you're family. Somehow."
Ferus exhaled, something like relief passing through him.
They sat like that for a while, the sea breathing beside them.
After a long silence, Matt spoke again.
"Tell me about the island," he said. "My grandfather. Why they wanted it."
Ferus nodded slowly.
"Alright. But you're not going to like it."
They walked inland, toward the older part of the island — the places tourists never saw. Ferus led Matt to a stone marker near the reef, half-covered in moss.
"Your grandfather," Ferus began, "wasn't rich. He was stubborn. And brave in a way that scared people."
He pointed out toward the water.
"Years ago, there was a storm. Worse than anything we'd seen. Fishing boats were trapped beyond the reef. The tide was pulling them apart."
Matt listened, quiet.
"The village begged the sea patrol to wait. Said it was suicide. Your grandfather didn't wait. He took a rope, tied it to himself, and swam out."
Matt's chest tightened.
"He pulled three boats back. Lost two fingers. Nearly drowned. But everyone lived."
Ferus looked at the marker again.
"The elders gifted him the island. Not as payment. As trust. Because anyone willing to die for others deserved land no one could take."
"So why now?" Matt asked. "Why kill for it?"
Ferus hesitated.
"Because this island sits on old trade routes," he said. "And because it's clean. No government eyes. No surveillance. A perfect place to move things… or hide them."
Matt's jaw clenched.
"And Don Leonardo."
Ferus nodded.
"He's been expanding. Quietly. Italy wasn't enough."
Matt looked back toward the villa ruins.
"So they didn't just kill my family," he said. "They erased a claim."
"Yes," Ferus said softly. "And now there's a problem."
Matt frowned.
"What problem?"
"You," Ferus said.
Two days later, the engines returned.
Matt heard them first.
Low. Familiar. Wrong.
Ferus was on his feet instantly.
"They came back."
Matt's heart slammed against his ribs.
"They know?" Matt asked.
Ferus didn't answer. He was already moving.
They ran through the brush, ducking low, following paths Ferus had memorized since childhood. The sound of boots hit the sand behind them.
Shouts. Orders.
"Split up!" someone yelled.
Ferus shoved Matt toward a narrow path between rocks.
"Run. Don't look back."
Matt grabbed his arm.
"Ferus—"
"NOW."
Gunfire cracked through the trees.
Matt ran.
He didn't see Ferus fall, but he heard it — the sound of a body hitting earth, the grunt forced out of lungs.
He turned just long enough to see Ferus on his knees, hands forced behind his back.
"Go!" Ferus shouted. "LIVE!"
Matt ran until his chest burned and his vision blurred.
When he finally stopped, he was alone.
The island was silent again.
Too silent.
Far behind him, an engine started.
And this time… it didn't leave empty.
That night, Matt hid beneath a cliff, shaking.
Ferus was gone.
Family ended here.
And whatever Matt became next…
would not be a boy.