Chapter 6 - The Watcher in the Rain
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The next morning, the sky was a bruised, heavy grey. Lena stood in the kitchen of their suburban home, holding a mug of black coffee, staring out the window at the quiet street.
Normally, she loved Saturday mornings. She would bake, Matteo would read the paper, and they would pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. But today, the illusion of safety was shattered.
Parked across the street, partially hidden beneath the sprawling branches of an old oak tree, was a black SUV with heavily tinted windows. It had been there for two hours. The engine was idling, a steady stream of white exhaust pluming into the cold morning air.
Lena felt a chill crawl down her spine. She turned away from the window just as Matteo walked into the kitchen.
He was wearing a fitted black Henley shirt that exposed the edge of the brutal scar on his abdomen—the bullet wound he had taken three years ago to escape his former life. He moved silently, his eyes instantly catching the tension in Lena’s posture.
“They’re out there,” Lena whispered, nodding toward the window.
Matteo didn't look out the glass. He didn't need to. He walked over to the kitchen counter, opened a hidden false bottom in the breadbox, and pulled out a sleek, fully loaded Glock 19. He checked the chamber with a practiced, mechanical efficiency.
“Matteo, what are you doing?” Lena asked, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“I'm sending a message,” Matteo replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
He tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans, grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, and poured coffee into both. Before Lena could stop him, he walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped out into the freezing drizzle.
Lena watched through the window, holding her breath.
Matteo walked straight across the lawn, his posture relaxed but entirely predatory. He approached the driver’s side of the black SUV and tapped on the tinted glass.
The window rolled down a few inches. Inside, a heavily tattooed man reached inside his jacket, his eyes wide with surprise.
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Matteo didn't draw his gun. He simply smiled, a terrifying, dead-eyed expression, and handed the man a mug of hot coffee through the crack in the window.
“Tell Victor he has one hour to remove his watchers from my street,” Matteo said softly. “Or the next thing I bring to this window won't be in a mug.”
