Chapter 34 Reckoning at Midnight
Valentina’s POV
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After dinner, I guide Killian back to our room, his steps slow, exhaustion dragging at every limb. He undresses mechanically, and I slip out of my clothes, sliding under the covers so he can pull me close. His arms band around me, his grip tight as if he’s afraid to let go. We lie in silence, our thoughts heavy and private. I know he isn’t healed yet-some wounds fester where no one can see. Whatever Raptor said must have helped a little, but not enough. I crave him desperately, but instinct warns me he’s not ready, not for touch, not for anything beyond the warmth of holding and being held. I decide I’ll wait. He’ll come to me when he can-until then, I will not risk rejection, nor will I punish myself for needing him.
Time passes; the rhythm of his breathing deepens. His muscles, tense for days, finally loosen as sleep overtakes him. I slip out of his embrace as gently as I can. The clock on my phone reads six p.m. I dress in black jeans and a black tank top, feet slipping into my favorite shit-kicker boots. I shrug on a lightweight black jacket. For a long moment, I watch Killian sleep, his face still, younger somehow in rest. I lean over and brush a kiss across his forehead, savoring the brief flutter of his lashes. Then I kneel, groping beneath the bed until my fingers find the cold edge of the black hard case. Popping it open, I check the contents with practiced calm. I choose my sharpest hunting knife, tucking it into the hidden loop at the small of my back, and close the case, returning it to its hiding place.
“I love you,” I whisper to his sleeping form, soft as a vow. Then I turn and slip from the room.
The common area buzzes with idle laughter and the clink of mugs. Giuliana is curled on Slate’s lap, her smile blooming wide when she spots me. I flash her a signal-a slight tilt of my chin. She reads it instantly. She plants a kiss on Slate, leans in, whispers something. He nods, releasing her with a squeeze. She joins me at the bar, grabs her weapon, slips it into a canvas bag, and fetches her keys.
“You’re coming with me? I was just letting you know I was leaving,” I murmur.
She levels me with a look. “We never run solo, Vale. Not for missions like this.”
I can’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. “Good. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Together we head out to her car, the twilight deepening into night as we cut through back roads to Branford. It’s a long drive, heavy with anticipation.
“What’s the plan?” Giuliana asks, glancing sideways. “Breaking into a jail is a new one for us.”
I think it through, eyes narrowed on the road ahead. “Small station, likely a skeleton crew after dark. Let me get a look inside, then I’ll need a distraction.”
She nods, ready. I hop out and jog to the police station, putting on my best innocent smile for the female officer behind the desk.
“What can I do for you?” she asks, her tone crisp but kind.
“Just wanted to know visiting hours. I have a friend inside.”
She checks a clipboard. “Come back at two. Afternoon visitation.”
I thank her and retreat to the car, reporting the layout. “Two women in the front. No marked cars outside. If you can keep them busy, I’ll come in from the rear.”
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Giuliana gives me five fingers-five minutes-and moves off toward the entrance. I circle around the back, picking the lock in under a minute. The hallway is dim, silent but for the hum of air conditioning. I edge along, heart pounding, listening for any hint of trouble. From the lobby, Giuliana’s voice rises in hysterical sobs. The officers scramble, their voices overlapping as they try to calm her. Perfect.
I slip through a side door into the cellblock. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead. I walk the length of the corridor, shoes soundless, until I spot Ramsey sprawled on a thin mattress, sleeping like the dead. Luck is with me-no one else in these cells tonight.
I pick the lock, slow and silent, grateful for hinges that don’t betray me. I ease inside and draw my knif e. She’s oblivious, arms flung wide, mouth parted in sleep. I slide my hand over her mouth before she can wake enough to scream.
Her eyes fly open, confusion turning instantly to terror when she sees me and the blade. She writhes, but I press the knife to her throat and she freezes, barely breathing.
“Hello, cunt,” I whisper, my voice pure venom. “Didn’t expect to see me, did you? You took what was never yours. Now I bring justice-for my man, for myself.”
I press the blade lightly to her inner thigh, tracing a slow line upward to the hollow of her throat. “You fucked with the wrong woman, Ramsey. I kill for a living. I revel in it. And tonight, I’m going to enjoy making you pay. But first, I’ll make sure you don’t scream.”
At the hollow of Ramsey’s throat, I press the blade, slow and deliberate, the steel slicing her skin as easily as silk. The scream that bursts from her is guttural, but I clamp my hand tight over her mouth. It’s a raw sound, torn away almost as soon as it forms, leaving only a ragged, airless gasp.
When I pull my hand away, Ramseywheezes-wide-eyed, stunned-her mouth opening and closing in silent agony, a fish starving for air. Blood beads from the wound, trailing in dark rivers down her neck, staining the thin mattress beneath her.
“I’ve clipped your vocal cords,” I murmur, my voice low and matter-of-fact. “They’re shallow, easier to find than you’d think. I don’t want you to die-yet. I want you to feel every second.”
She thrashes, panic swelling, but I move with purpose. With one hand I seize her wrists, pinning them above her head while the other wields the knife. The jail-issue shirt is no barrier; the blade glides through fabric, baring her skin. I yank the shreds from beneath her and drive the knife deep into her belly, anchoring her in place as she arches and writhes in pain. In swift, brutal movements, I tie her
wrists to the cold steel rails of the bed.
When I draw the blade out, her body goes slack, shudders wracking her frame. Tears stream down her face, mingling with the snot she can’t wipe away. Her cries are only shuddered whispers now, voiceless and raw.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” I tell her, almost gently. “I’ve been stabbed before-hurts like hell and healing t akes forever.”
Methodical, I hold the knife to her belly as I strip away her pants, then her underwear, leaving her exposed and trembling. For a moment, I look her over-not with desire, but with cold, clinical detachment.
“You really are a pretty girl,” I say softly. “If you’d kept your claws off Killian, if you’d latched onto someone else, maybe you’d be living a very different life right now. But here you are, naked in a cell, about to die.”
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<Chapter 34 Reckoning at Midnight
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She tries to scream again, mouth open in a silent wail. I almost laugh. “No one’s coming for you, Ramsey.”
Time is short. I check the wall clock-three minutes gone. One to finish, one to escape. I lean in close. “I hope hell is everything you deserve.”
The blade sinks deep, lower belly first. She convulses, eyes rolling, but I work quick and merciless, slicing down to her pubic bone, then flipping the blade and carving up through flesh, muscle, and bone -a violent red opening from pelvis to throat. It’s messier than the movies ever show-harder, too. Blood fountains from her, spattering the bedding, the floor. Her body buckles, helpless, her eyes locking on mine in one last, wide, terrified stare. I watch as the light dims, her spirit slipping free.
I wipe my blade on her torn shirt, tuck it back into my belt, and close her eyes with a fingertip. Then I slip out of the cell as quietly as I entered, closing the door with a soft click.
Outside, Giuliana meets my gaze, her own eyes sharp and proud. The officers are still distracted, voices raised in confusion at the front. I’m out the back door in seconds, sliding into the passenger seat as Giuliana fires up the engine.
“All done?” she asks, eyes flicking to me.
“It’s over.”
She grins, shaking her head. “Those idiots at the desk-never seen someone so eager to help a hysterical woman.”
“Lucky for us.” I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling a twisted satisfaction. “Took longer than I wanted. Couldn’t help myself-I wanted her to feel every bit of fear.”
“Don’t blame you. She earned worse, for what she did to Killian. Do you feel better?”
I nod, a hard smile tugging at my lips. “I do. Now I just need to help him feel whole again.”
Giuliana reaches over, squeezes my hand. “You will. He’s strong, and so are you.”
I look at my big sister-my anchor, my blade, my family. “Love you, Gia.”
She squeezes back. “Love you too, Vandal. Let’s get you home to your man.”
