Chapter 35 Vengeance in the Commons
Valentina’s POV
“What did you do?” Killian’s voice is a blade drawn tight, every syllable trembling with fury.
Tears slip down my cheeks before I can even answer.
“I broke into her cell,” I confess, voice ragged. “I cut her vocal cords. I tied her to the bed after ripping off her clothes. Then-after stabbing her in the stomach-I gutted her. From that rotten cunt all the way to the hollow at her throat.”
His chest heaves. I see the pulse hammering in his neck. My own breath catches-panic tightening in my lungs. “Killian?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he spins away, throws open the door, and disappears into the hallway, the slam of wood echoing like a gunshot. I drop to the floor, sobbing so hard my bones shake. What have I done? Why didn’t I see this coming? Of course he’d want closure. Of course he’d want to face her, to decide her fate for himself. My insides twist with regret-I can’t breathe, can’t move. My forehead presses against the cold floor, and I let the grief wrack through me.
Suddenly, strong arms gather me up. For a split second, I hope it’s him, but it isn’t. It’s Raptor, who carries me to the bed and just holds me as I fall apart. The mattress dips; Giuliana sits beside us and begins rubbing soothing circles into my back.
“What happened?” she asks quietly.
“He’s furious,” I choke. “I shouldn’t have done it. I think I took away his closure. I’ve never seen him
look at me like that-like I’m a stranger. Or worse, an enemy.
Raptor shakes his head, voice steady and deep. “Vale, he doesn’t hate you. He’s just lost right now- angry at what was done to him, not you. Men and women don’t grieve the same way after-after something like this. Give him time.”
I nod numbly, but nothing feels real except the ache in my chest. Giuliana’s gaze is calm, determined. She already knows what I need to do, even before I do.
“I should leave for a while,” I murmur. “Give him space. Maybe I’m just a reminder now. Maybe I made
everything worse.”
Raptor stands and gives me room, and Giuliana starts packing my duffle without a word-clothes, my favorite blades, nothing sentimental. I watch her, hollow and drifting.
“How long will you be gone?” she asks. “Want me to come with you? You’re not going to do anything stupid, right?” Her questions tumble out in a rush.
I manage a weak smile. “No, I need you to stay here and look after him. I’m going to find Papa. He hasn’t answered my texts. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Killian doesn’t need me around right now
-not like this.”
She sets her jaw. “Valentina, you’re his Old Lady. That means for life.”
A bitter laugh slips out. “Maybe not for us. Maybe we jumped in too fast. Don’t pack my vest. Leave it on the hook.” The words cut even as I speak them, doubt swarming my head and heart.
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Giuliana bristles. “You’re wrong, and you know it.”
“I’m in love, Gia. I think he was just in lust. Now all he sees is the monster in me.” The sting of my own words hurts more than any wound.
“Caterina!” she snaps, using my real name. I flinch. The old pain between us simmers beneath the surface.
I hug her, tight and desperate. “I love you. Be safe. Have that baby with Slate-live the life you always dreamed about.”
Her tears flow freely now. “You’re acting like you’re never coming back.”
I force a smile, pick up my bag, and walk out before she can see me break. The commons is full- Blaise, Raptor, Slate, everyone. My family, even if just for a while.
“Valentina, where you headed?” Blaise calls out.
“Some errands. Gotta find my dad,” I say. He just nods, not pushing. Raptor watches me go, concern etched on his face. I blow him a kiss and let my brightest smile mask the ache.
Outside, I walk past the prospects. They give me a curious wave as I shoulder my bag and keep moving, tears tracking down my cheeks. The cool air bites. I wonder if there’s any way to fix what I’ve broken, or if Killian even wants me now. I stole his closure. I made myself a symbol of his pain.
At a phone store, I buy a cheap phone and text Papa and Giuliana my new number. I tell them both I need time and space. Then I text Papa directly: Please, answer me. Let me know you’re okay. I need to hear from you. Almost immediately, he replies with a thumbs up and a simple: Ti amo, mia bellissima figlia. (I love you, my beautiful daughter.)
For a moment, I let myself breathe. But the ache of what I’ve lost remains, sharp as any blade.
< Ride the Wildfire
