Chapter 8 Waiting for Her Eyes
Killian’s POV
Four days. Four fucking miserable days without those emerald eyes opening, without her voice, without any sign my angel is still in there. Every minute feels endless. The doctors run another scan, slip a feeding tube in, and finally reassure us-no brain injuries, just a battered body that needs time. But time is cruel.
Gia takes her father home after the first night, but I refuse to leave. Her dad gets a second bed brought into the room. I make them wedge it right next to Valentina’s so I can fall asleep holding her hand. The second night, I do the same-won’t budge. I can’t risk not being here when she wakes.
By the third day, Blaise swings by, takes one look at me and shakes his head. Tries to convince me to go back to the clubhouse, clean up, take a break. I won’t hear it. I’m not missing a second. Today, Slate shows up, a duffel in hand.
“Sarge said you look like shit,” he grunts, tossing the bag onto the bed.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Thanks, man.”
“She hasn’t woken up? Not once?” Slate’s usually unflappable, but there’s worry in his eyes.
I shake my head. “No. Four days and nothing.”
He glances around. “Where’s G
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“She had to drive her dad to some appointment. He apparently refuses to drive himself anywhere, and since she was here before sunrise, he guilt-tripped her into it.”
Slate’s mouth quirks. “What’s her old man like?”
I smirk. “Straight out of The Godfather, man. Thick Italian accent, never seen him out of a suit. Gives off that ‘I’ll skin you alive if you cross me’ energy. I kind of respect it.”
Slate grunts, half amused, half intimidated.
He changes the subject. “So, you and Gia?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What about us?”
He shrugs, leans against the wall, arms folded. “She gives incredible head, rides cock like a champion. Not your usual type though-you go for the stick-thin blondes with fake tits and too much makeup. She’s got legs for days, but those curves are something else. Barely wears makeup, all natural.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “I know. I can’t stop staring at her. That night you hooked up with Luna Fiera was my first with Gia.”
He grins. “Luna Fiera. Little Fierce Moon. The brothers gave her that nickname after she put Ramsey in her place. That knife was out so fast, right to Ramsey’s face. The way she told her off was legendary. Ramsey always oversteps, but Valentina? She doesn’t play. Then she threw that knife at the bar- landed it perfectly between the limes. I ran over to check on Gia, and she just laughed, told me her sister’s got mad skills. Brothers heard, and started calling her Luna Fiera.”
I laugh, picturing Valentina’s reaction when she hears the name.
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The door opens, and Gia walks in with her father. She freezes a moment, catching sight of Slate.
Her father eyes him. “Who are you?”
“Slate,” he says, steady.
Her father looks at Gia, sighs. “Why do all your friends have such strange names? Don’t you know anyone with a normal name?”
Gia grins. “Oh really? Mietitore.”(Harvester)
Her father scowls. “Silenzio.”(hush/silence)
Slate blinks, glances my way. “What the fuck was that?”
I smirk. “They’re all fluent in Italian.”
Slate’s gaze lingers on Gia, heat in his eyes. Her father bristles. “Don’t look at my daughter like that. Have some respect. She’s a lady. I’ve seen Riders of Perdition, you all treat women like puttana.”
“Papa!” Gia shrieks, mortified.
Slate and I crack up. That’s a word everyone knows.
Slate grins, wicked. “She was my little puttana the other night.”
“Slate!” Gia’s face turns crimson, and her father nearly combusts.
He turns to her, voice low and cold. “E’ questo il tipo di uomo con cui vai a letto?” (This is the type of man you sleep with?)
She fires back, just as sharp. “Sì papà, non credere che non abbia visto le troie uscite dal tuo condominio. Sei altrettanto cattivo.” (Yes, papa. Don’t think I haven’t seen the sluts leaving your condo. You’re just as bad.)
Her father scoffs and drops into his usual chair, arms crossed.
Slate leans down, kisses Gia quick and hard on the lips. “I don’t know what you just said, but it was sexy as hell. I’ll see you later, hotness.” With a parting nod to me, he’s out the door.
I grab my bag, tell Gia and her dad I’m hitting the shower. Gia nods. Her father doesn’t bother to look up. Yeah, I really do like the old man.
I shower as fast as I can, scrub off four days of worry and sweat, then pull on black jeans and a grey t- shirt. I ditch my cut, dump everything on the coffee table, then drag my bed right up against
Valentina’s. I wedge a chair between them, sit, and lace my fingers with hers, thumb tracing her knuckles.
I’m not a praying man, but I close my eyes, and I beg. I beg God to let her wake up. Just open her eyes, that’s all I need.
An hour passes. Suddenly, Valentina moans. All three of us-me, Gia, her father-jump to our feet, crowd around her. She moans again, lids fluttering. And then those eyes-those wild, emerald eyes- find mine. My heart lurches, relief and joy crashing into each other.
She turns, finds her sister, then her father. “What-?” Her voice is raw, broken. She tries again. “What’s going on?”
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Her mouth is dry as dust. I grab the little cup of water with a straw, bring it to her lips. She drinks, thanks me with her eyes, then leans back.
She’s awake. She’s back. And for the first time in days, I let myself hope.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “Gia found you four days ago-bloodied and bruised in your apartment.”
Her eyes widen with shock, then shift quickly to panic. “Where’s Sterling?” she croaks, voice raw from
disuse.
I feel the sting in my chest. Of course she asks for him first-he’s her boyfriend, even if he’s scum. The bastard hasn’t so much as called, hasn’t shown his face. Her phone’s been charging by the bed for days, silent as a grave.
“We don’t know,” Gia says, her voice flat.
Relief washes across Valentina’s battered face, a flicker of hope beneath the fading bruises and swelling that finally eased up yesterday. We all see it.
“Did that asshole do this to you, Vandal?” Gia asks, her tone brittle and sharp.
The name hangs between them. Vandal.
Valentina’s gaze darts to her father, who stands silent, his expression carved from granite. He gives a slow, solemn nod. Gia doesn’t notice-she’s too busy searching her sister’s eyes for the truth. Their father leans down, brushes a kiss to Valentina’s forehead, and whispers, “Ti amo.” Then he straightens, face set, and heads for the door.
“Papa, where are you going?” Gia calls, alarm flaring in her voice.
“Hunting,” he replies, no trace of softness in the word.
“Quella madre, figlio di puttana del cazzo,” Gia spits, fury burning in her eyes. (That mother fucking son of a bitch.)
“What the hell is going on?” I demand, looking between them.
“Sterling did this to her,” Gia says. “No wonder he’s disappeared.”
I meet Valentina’s gaze, searching for confirmation. “Is it true? Is that why you looked so relieved when you heard he hadn’t called?”
She nods, voice scraping out, “Yes.”
I lean over and press a kiss to her lips-gentle, reverent. “I’ll be back, babe.”
“Now where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Gia asks as I stride across the room, pulling on my c
“I’m going to hunt down that piece of shit and end him.”
Gia blocks the door, arms folded. “Didn’t you hear Papa? He’s already on it.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
She gives me a hard look. “Papa’s hunting him. Once he finds Sterling, he’ll be gone for good.”
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My mind reels. “Is that why he said ‘hunting’ before he left?”
Gia nods, her eyes never leaving mine. Valentina studies me, silent, watchful.
“You two act like your father isn’t just some old Italian man in retirement. What can he actually do?”
“Trust me,” Gia says, voice low. “Our father is capable of things you can’t imagine. Stay here with Valentina. I’ll be back soon.”
She’s halfway out the door when Valentina rasps, “Sniper!” She winces, every word scraping her throat.
Gia spins back, her voice gentler now. “Don’t worry, Vandal. I’m grabbing the doctor so he can pull that damn feeding tube. Then I’m getting Killian and me some burgers, and you some Pho.”
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Valentina smiles faintly. “I love you.”
“Ti amo, mia sorella,” Gia replies softly, squeezing her hand. (I love you, my sister)
When the room settles, I take Valentina’s hand in mine, stroking her knuckles. “Hey, Angel. Why does your sister call you Vandal and you call her Sniper?”
She gives me a sly, tired smile. “It’s a long story-one I’m not supposed to share. Maybe someday I’ll tell you all my secrets. For now, just think of them like road names.”
I grin, squeezing her fingers. “We really don’t know shit about each other yet, do we?”
The doctor sweeps in, and I step out into the hall, pulling out my phone to call Blaise.
He picks up on the first ring. “Killian, how is she?”
“She woke up half an hour ago. Said her boyfriend did this. I want to find the bastard and do to him everything he did to her.”
“On it. We’ll handle it. You stay there-get to know your girl. I’ll let you know when we have him. Got a name?”
“Sterling. Gia says he works at Schuster Investments.”
“Copy that, brother. We’ll make him pay.”
“Thanks, brother,” I say, and hang up, my mind already running red with the promise of vengeance.
