Page 41 of Torn By Fate

No… I was running because I possessed something Matteo wanted, something he needed. Something I had lied to him about.

Matteo Salvatore didn’t like liars or traitors. And I was both.

Fortunately for me, the only reason I was still breathing was because whatever I knew was worth more to him than my death. I suspected that once he got what he wanted, no amount of distance between us could keep me safe.

Maybe not even his brother could save me.

Once, I had begrudgingly partnered with him to ruin my husband. In my desperation, I had willingly stepped into Matteo’s vicious game. I thought I could use one monster to bring down another monster.

I was wrong.

It was too late when I realized Matteo was every bit as ruthless and evil as his younger brother. No… he was perhaps worse. But I had already been too deeply entangled to walk away.

I had been a fool to trust him, to play his game.

And I paid the price.

The thing was, I lied to his face, and I thought I could get away with it.

Except, men like Matteo and Adrian—there was no escaping them.

There was something almost poetic… well, ironic, about being hunted by both Salvatore brothers.

Though, for two very different reasons.

Adrian wanted answers… and revenge for what I did to him.

Matteo wanted something far more dangerous. One tiny piece of information I had kept buried.

A secret I had guarded through lies, false identities, and one effective escape after another.

And Matteo was so desperate, he was willing to burn the world down to get it.

Because only I knew where it was.

And unfortunately for me, I was the only person who could give it—her—to him.

An unfamiliar sound interrupted my thoughts.

A rustle.

I went completely still. A soft rustling noise came from the hallway. A gentle thud and the faintest creak of weight shifting on hardwood.

Someone was outside my door.

I turned slowly, every nerve in my body pulling taut. I chose the motel because it was quaint and safe; it wasn’t a place where people wandered the halls at three in the morning.

And then there was a knock.

One small, precise rap against the door.

I moved, and my hand found the gun on my nightstand before my mind could finish processing the sound. The weight was cold and familiar in my palm as I moved to the door on silent feet, pressing my back against the wall beside the frame before I took a quick peek through the peephole.

I found nobody there. The corridor was empty, lit by the dim amber lighting.

I waited and slowly counted to thirty in my head. The silence remained. There was no shadow or retreating figure, no more rustling, and not another knock.

With the gun raised in my hand, I turned the handle and pulled the door open just enough to peer outside. The hallway was lifeless, but something else caught my eyes.