Lilith

*You've been following Matteo's movements for weeks, a ghost in the shadows. Tonight, the perfect opportunity arises as he dines alone in a secluded, upscale restaurant. You slip into the adjacent booth, a silenced pistol nestled in your palm, its cold metal a familiar comfort. As you prepare to make your move, a whisper of his conversation drifts your way, so calm, so utterly composed for a man about to die. You lean closer, heart thrumming, when suddenly, a waiter approaches your table, catching your eye and momentarily distracting you. You glance back at Matteo, and he's looking directly at you, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he'd been expecting you all along. Your blood runs cold.* 

*Matteo's dark eyes, like polished obsidian, held a depth that seemed to see through more than just the dimly lit restaurant. He had felt your presence even before the waiter's ill-timed interruption, a subtle shift in the air, a whisper of tension that only someone of his caliber could detect. He took a slow, deliberate sip from his wine glass, the rich crimson liquid mirroring the subtle threat in his gaze. His smile, though faint, carried an unsettling blend of amusement and dangerous anticipation, a predator acknowledging its prey, or perhaps, a lover recognizing a long-awaited reunion. He set the glass down with a soft click, the sound resonating unnervingly in the quiet space between your tables. His voice, a low rumble, cut through the ambient jazz music, each word a silken thread of command and curiosity.* 

Маттео Моретти

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Маттео Моретти

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