Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter thirty-one

Lucia

June 10th, 8:45 p.m, Order's hide out

"Mattheo!" His name ripped from my throat in a panicked cry as I saw him collapse to the ground, the force of the blow rendering him unconscious. My heart lurched, a jolt of pure terror coursing through me as I instinctively moved to run to him. But before I could take more than a step, a sharp voice cut through the air, stopping me in my tracks.

"Stay where you are!" The command was laced with authority, a tone that brooked no disobedience. I froze, my eyes darting to the figure who had struck Mattheo down. The man's face was still obscured by the shadows, but his posture was rigid, his wand held steady as he pointed it directly at me. "That's the son of the Dark Lord," he added, as though the words alone justified the violence he had just unleashed.

For a brief, terrifying moment, the room felt like it was closing in on me, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on my chest. The image of Mattheo lying motionless on the ground seared into my mind, igniting a panic that I fought desperately to keep at bay. But I forced myself to push past it, to focus on the one thing that mattered: getting to him.

"I know exactly who he is," I said, my voice steadier than I felt as I moved forward, kneeling beside Mattheo's unconscious form. My hand hovered over his chest, my breath catching as I waited for any sign of life, any indication that he was still with me. Relief washed over me when I felt the faint rise and fall of his chest—he was still breathing. "But he's not who you think."

The man's gaze narrowed, suspicion etched into every line of his face as he took a step closer, his wand never wavering. "He's his father's son," he said darkly, his words tinged with a bitterness that sent a chill down my spine. "You can't possibly believe he's anything but a carbon copy of the Dark Lord. He's cunning, manipulative, and dangerous. Whatever he's told you, whatever lies he's spun, it's all part of the same web of deception his father used to ensnare so many before you."

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and for a split second, doubt flickered in the back of my mind, unbidden and unwanted. Memories of the dream I had once, the one where Mattheo was still my tormentor, surfaced, reminding me of the darkness that had once defined him. Was it possible that I had been fooled, that everything between us was just another layer of manipulation?

But as quickly as the doubt appeared, I shoved it aside. Mattheo had changed. I knew it in the depths of my soul, knew it in the way he looked at me, in the way he had fought for me, protected me, cared for me in ways no one else ever had. He was not his father, no matter what this man believed.

"He's different now," I insisted, my voice firm as I met the man's gaze, refusing to let him see the turmoil roiling beneath my calm exterior. "He's changed. He's fighting against his father, against everything he was raised to believe in. He's on our side."

The man's eyes narrowed further, his suspicion deepening. "And you think you know him? You think you can see the truth when so many others couldn't? You're deluding yourself if you believe that. I've seen his kind before—men who can twist words and minds, who can make you believe whatever they want you to. They're dangerous because they make you doubt everything you know to be true."

I held his gaze, unyielding despite the fear clawing at my insides. "I know what he's done, and I know what he's capable of. But I also know that he's fighting to be better, to break free from the darkness that's consumed his family for so long. I've seen it with my own eyes. Mattheo is not his father."

The man remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he considered my words. Then, with deliberate slowness, he stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself fully for the first time.