crashing quietly | c.l.

- trigger warning -

It wasn't slow this time.
No drifting. No haze.

Cara woke up like a match being struck.

Her head was pounding.
Her hair felt warm and wet. Blood.
Her mouth was dry.
Her vision tilted for half a second—

But her rage hit first.

And it was blinding.

⸻

The room was cold.
Concrete walls. No windows.
Just a table. One chair. One door.
And the goddamn bracelet box sitting like a trophy on the table, like some twisted reminder of who he thought he was.

Matteo stood near the door, arms crossed, calm in that detached, reptilian way he always wore when he wanted to pretend he was in control.

She tried to stand—
Her legs collapsed.
Pain flared through her shoulder, white-hot.

"What the hell did you give me," she snapped, voice rough and raw.

"A little something," he said, like it was a joke. "You were always too tense."

She let out a rasp of laughter—ugly, broken.

"Still funny, huh? That's why I left you."

He stepped closer.
Too close.

"You didn't leave me," Matteo said, voice tight. "You ran. That's not the same."

⸻

She lunged.

Not with strategy—just pure rage.

Her fist slammed into his jaw.
Sloppy, but loud.
He staggered. His lip split.

She grinned.

"You don't get to rewrite the story," she hissed.

He reached for her.
She ducked.
Threw her elbow back—caught his ribs.
Went for his face again.

But he was faster this time.
He grabbed her by the hair and yanked.

Her head slammed into the wall.

Pain cracked across her skull.
Warmth pooled at her temple—blood.
Her knees gave out, but she didn't drop.

He shoved her against the wall.
Hand at her throat, just enough pressure to scare—not enough to knock her out again.

"I tried to be good to you," he growled. "I gave you everything."

"You gave me scars."
She spat in his face.

Matteo lost it.
His hand flew back—open palm.

The slap echoed.
Loud. Cracked her head sideways.
More blood.
More rage.

"You're not some saint," he snapped. "You're not better than me."

"I'm not you. That's better enough."

He reached for her again—

⸻

The door exploded open.

⸻

Charles.

He didn't register the smell.
Or the blood.
Or the cold concrete.

He just saw her.

Cara.
Slumped against the wall.
Lip split. Blood at her temple.
Eyes wide. Still locked on his.

Then he saw him.

Matteo.
Smirking.
Standing too close.
Still raising his hand like he was entitled to it.