Colliding Shadows

The echo of gunfire faded into a tense silence. Smoke curled from the barrels, stinging Matteo’s eyes as he crouched behind a stack of crates. His men were shaken, bruised, but alive. Rafael’s soldiers had retreated—but not before leaving a few casualties in their wake.

Matteo’s chest heaved, adrenaline and fury mixing into something raw, something dangerous. He gritted his teeth, scanning the yard for Rafael.

And then he saw him—leaning against a container, chest heaving, blood smeared across his knuckles from the brawl, amber eyes glinting under the floodlight.

“You’re lucky tonight,” Matteo growled, stepping out from his cover, gun trained but trembling slightly—not from fear, but from heat.

Rafael’s smirk was infuriating. “Lucky? I don’t feel lucky. I feel…” He stepped closer, voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “…wanted.”

Matteo froze. Heat surged through his veins, stronger than anger, stronger than anything he’d felt in years. He shoved the thought away, focusing on the mission. “You’re going to regret this, Romano.”

Rafael laughed softly, advancing until they were a hair’s breadth apart. “Do I ever?”

Without thinking, Matteo lunged—not with the gun, but with his body. The clash was brutal. Hands grabbed shoulders, gripping, wrestling, neither willing to back down. Rafael countered, smirking through the struggle, and in that moment, Matteo realized just how close they were—too close. His lips nearly brushed Rafael’s jaw, the heat from his body intoxicating.

“You’re insane,” Matteo growled, shoving him back.

“Maybe,” Rafael whispered, brushing against him deliberately, “…or maybe you just like it.”

Matteo’s blood surged. He shoved him hard against the container, heart hammering as the edge of desire bit sharp. His hand pressed against Rafael’s chest, feeling the heat beneath the thin fabric, the quickened pulse that mirrored his own.

Rafael tilted his head, eyes darkening with challenge and something more primal. “Admit it, De Luca. You want me.”

Matteo’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t going to admit it. Not here. Not now. But his body betrayed him—leaning in, pressed close, muscles coiled and ready. He could smell Rafael’s cologne, a sharp mix of leather, tobacco, and danger. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—deny that it drove him insane.

“Get off me,” he growled, trying to push Rafael away. But Rafael was relentless, a predator in human form, and before Matteo could think, Rafael’s lips were on his neck—teasing, claiming, daring him to lose control.

Matteo froze, then lashed out, catching Rafael by the waist and pulling him in fully. The kiss that followed was violent, desperate, and confusing. Anger, frustration, and desire collided in a tangled mess of teeth and tongue, the heat between them impossible to ignore.

They pulled apart for breath, faces inches apart, chests heaving, eyes locked. Both knew this was wrong. Both knew it could destroy them. But neither could stop the pull, the need, the magnetic collision that refused to be denied.

“Enemy,” Matteo rasped.

“Enemy,” Rafael echoed, smirking despite their closeness.

And yet… they both knew that the next time they touched, the line between hate and something darker, more consuming, would blur even further.

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