Chapter 28

**G R A C E**


I stare at Matt, still clutching the half-eaten dessert like it’s the only thing grounding me in this surreal situation. The throbbing pain in my foot is making it hard to think clearly, and my nerves are frayed from all the running, the stress, and the strange turn of events. The thought of getting into his car is unsettling, but I can't deny that my body is pleading for a break, for some relief from this chaos.
Matt’s gaze is steady, his expression a calm mask that hides whatever's simmering beneath. “Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the alley. “My car is right around the corner. You can sit down, have your dessert, and I’ll take care of that foot of yours.”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of his car, and I glance at the darkened alley. There’s something about following him into that space, so close yet so foreign, that makes my skin prickle. But then again, the idea of waiting here for Alex, with my foot aching and no clear plan, is even less appealing.

I bite my lip, trying to steel myself. “You just said you’re Alex’s friend. I don’t think getting in your car is a good idea if you’re on his side.”

Matt’s smile doesn’t waver; it only seems to grow, twisting into something I can’t quite place. “Friend is a strong word,” he says smoothly. “Let’s say ‘acquaintance’ or ‘business partner.’ I’m not here to drag you back to him. In fact, if you prefer, I can keep you away from him. The choice is yours.”

His tone is almost too smooth, like he's carefully selecting every word to manipulate or soothe. My mind races, trying to process his offer. It’s clear that he's aware of the delicate nature of our situation, but that only makes me more uneasy.

Matt continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Since you’re not exactly on the best terms with him right now, I should let you know that he probably received a notification about the card getting declined with enough information to track you down. He’s likely on his way here as we speak. Unless you’re ready to patch things up with him right now, it might be best to get moving.”

I swallow hard. The idea of Alex finding me here, in this state, makes my stomach churn. My foot throbs insistently, and the thought of limping away with no clear destination makes me feel trapped. Matt’s offer, though unsettling, suddenly seems like the only option that makes sense.

I nod slowly, resigned. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

Matt’s smile is almost satisfied, like he’s just won a victory but it is one he knew he'd win anyway. He steps aside, gesturing toward the limousine. “Good choice. After we sort out your foot, and you’ve had something to eat, if you decide you’d rather not stay with me, I’ll make sure you get to where you need to go. After the lady.” He adds as he opens the door for me in a very unnatural gentlemanly gesture.

When I step out of the tiny dessert shop, my eyes are immediately drawn to the sheer scale of the security Matt’s got trailing him. A pair of men in dark suits follow closely behind us, their eyes scanning the street with practiced vigilance. As we approach the limousine, I notice there are four more men stationed around the vehicle, a tight security perimeter that makes me feel like I’m walking into a fortress.

I gulp, feeling a twinge of anxiety. The limousine’s sleek black exterior seems almost intimidating, and the two men already seated inside it look like they’re as much a part of the car’s décor as the plush leather seats. Matt gestures for them to step out, his voice calm but commanding. “Everyone out. I need a moment of privacy.”

The men nod and exit the car, leaving me and Matt alone in the confined space. The moment the door shuts behind us, I’m acutely aware of how enclosed we are. The air feels thicker, more charged, and Matt’s presence next to me only amplifies the sensation. The limousine is opulent and spacious, but right now it feels like a cage. His proximity is unsettling, a jarring contrast to the loneliness I’ve felt all day.

Matt’s movement is smooth and deliberate as he takes a seat beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I shift uncomfortably, trying to put as much distance between us as the seat will allow. His presence is almost oppressive, a constant reminder that I’m in a situation I can’t control.

He pulls out a first aid kit with a practiced efficiency that makes me wary. The way his hands move is almost methodical, as if he’s done this countless times before. As he starts to clean and bandage my wounded foot, I try not to flinch. His touch is surprisingly gentle, but there’s a precision to it that makes me think he’s had a lot of practice.

I watch him closely, noting how his fingers work with a steady skill that speaks of experience, how his tone softens as he talks me through it, almost as if distracting a child while administering an injection. Each motion is deliberate, as if he’s done this more times than he can count. I can’t help but glance at the scars on his jaw and throat, the marks of past wounds that must have once needed the very same care he’s now giving me. It’s a grim reminder of the violence and danger that seems to follow him.

As Matt focuses on my foot, I wonder how many times he’s had to tend to his own injuries. His quick, practised movements suggest he’s no stranger to pain or bloodshed. The thought makes me uneasy, and I try to push it away, focusing instead on the discomfort of my own injuries.

Finally, he finishes the bandage and takes a seat next to me again, this time with an air of casual ease that contrasts sharply with my own apprehension. His smile is faint, almost mocking, as if he finds my discomfort amusing.

“So,” he starts, his voice smooth and almost syrupy, “I’m guessing you’re here for little Sophie’s birthday?”