Chapter 9 Confessions in the Dark
Valentina’s POV
Another endless day in this hospital bed, and I feel myself going insane with boredom and restless
energy.
“Gia, can you run by my apartment and grab my laptop?” I ask, shifting against the stiff sheets. “I haven’t gotten any pings, but I need to check on work-make sure everyone’s networks are still locked down and no one’s losing millions while I’m stuck here.”
She nods, already pulling her jacket on. “I’ll be back in an hour, tops.”
As soon as the door closes, Killian turns to me. He’s been a steady presence-sleeping in the cot beside me, never more than a whisper away. I still can’t decide what that means for us, but I know I
don’t want him to leave.
“So who do you work for?” he asks, voice low and warm. “What exactly do you do?”
I grin, loving the curiosity in his eyes. “I work for three different companies: Paradise Travels, Warren and Dobbs Investments, and Posh Entertainment. I do all their web design, security, the whole nine yards. I build the walls, catch the hackers, keep the money and secrets where they belong. I make sure no one gets in unless I want them to.”
“That’s fucking badass. You work from home?”
“Anywhere. Sometimes I’m coding in bed, sometimes in a hotel in Paris. It’s all remote. I like it that
way.’
He leans in, eyes intense. “When you get out of here, I want you to come stay with me at the clubhouse. My room’s safe.”
I blink, surprised. “Why? I mean… I get it, but-”
“Until Sterling is found, you’re not safe. He’s still out there, and I don’t trust the cops to get to him first.”
A strange comfort settles in my chest. “Don’t worry. My dad will find him. It’s been less than twenty- four hours. Dad’s never missed a mark in his life.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Mark’? That’s a hell of a word, Angel.”
Damn these pain meds. They make me too honest, too unguarded. “I keep forgetting to filter myself around you. In six years, I never let anything slip with Sterling.”
He flashes that crooked smile, the one that always makes my heart race. “You know you can trust me, right?”
I nod, feeling the weight of truth press against my tongue. “You know we’re Italian. Grew up in Naples. My father did a lot of… jobs for certain people.”
He tilts his head. “What kind of jobs? Which people?”
I meet his gaze, searching for judgment and finding none. “Same as you, but on a different scale. For organizations like yours, but bigger. Older. More dangerous.”
He lets out a slow breath. “Stop dancing around it, Angel. Just tell me. Whatever your father did, his
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secret’s safe with me.”
I hesitate, then sigh. “Telling you puts all of us at risk. You have to understand-if this gets out, we die.
All of us.”
He leans closer, voice grave. “I get it. But you’re not the only one with blood on your hands. I’m the enforcer. Killian isn’t just a name. I take care of the club’s problems. Anyone who crosses us, who betrays us-they see me last. That’s why they call me Killian. The guy before me was called Harvester -he did the same, but died in a bar fight. He was my best friend.”
A hush falls over the room. “I’m sorry you lost him,” I whisper.
He studies me. “That’s what you hear? Not the part where I admit to murder?”
“You’re not the only killer in this room-or in my family, Killian.”
His eyes burn with questions, with longing. I know he wants all of me.
“Fine. You want secrets? Here’s one.” I lower my voice, heart pounding. “You probably ran background
on Giuliana, right?”
He shrugs. “I assume so. Blaise handles all that.”
“If I did your background checks, I’d know every detail from birth. I can break into any life, any system. But that’s not the point. My father worked for the Calvetti Family-the oldest, richest Mafia in Italy. He was their best assassin, their Fixer, but he worked for others too. Thirty years in the darkness. Until they murdered my mother.”
Killian’s gaze sharpens, but I press on, voice shaking only a little. “He did a hit for the Bastiani Family. Killed the father of Lorenzo Marzano-favorite cousin to Alessio Volterra, wife of Domenico Calvetti. When Domenico found out my father was the assassin, he sent men to take us. I was ten. Giuliana was twenty. We were out shopping for a vacation Papa planned-just a girls’ day. Four bodyguards dead in seconds. They dragged us to some compound. I watched them rape my mother. I watched them rape Giuliana. They filmed it, sent it to my father. We were only there a day, maybe two-then the blood started.”
I stare at the ceiling, memory sharp as glass. “My father came for us, a blur of knives and vengeance. He killed every man who touched us. There was a knife beside me, and I grabbed it when three more burst in. I gutted one. Climbed another’s back, slit his throat. I got pinned under his corpse. My dad took out the rest. When it was over, he found me, covered in blood. He just looked at me and said, ‘You did well.’ He made me sit with my mother, told me to watch over Giuliana.”
My father returns to the business of survival, extracting every last secret from the men who held us. When it’s over, he uncovers the reason behind our abduction-a twisted knot of vendetta and power. He knows he can’t bring down the Calvetti Family himself, so he hands everything over to the FBI and CIA. Years of secrets, stacks of files, evidence of every crime they ever orchestrated. That’s how we land in Witness Protection, buried under new identities and old ghosts.
My real name is Caterina Tagliani. Gia is Rosalinda. Our father is Riccardo-though to the old world, he’s always been Harvester, the bringer of death in Mafia legend.
Killian sits across from me, silent, eyes wide, his mouth half open as if the words stick to his tongue. After a moment, he shuts his mouth and clears his throat, an awkward, crooked smile tugging at his li ps.
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“You’ve got me beat on the age of my first kill. I was sixteen,” he says, voice rough but laced with something close to admiration.
I can’t help it—a laugh bursts out of me, genuine and ragged. He chuckles, the sound grounding me, pulling me back from the edge of memory.
“All that, and what sticks out to you is how old I was when I killed someone for the first time?” I tease, shaking my head.
He grins. “Priorities, Angel. Besides, I’m starting to think you might be more dangerous than half my club.”
He leans back, curiosity sharp in his gaze. “So why does Gia call you Vandal and you call her Sniper?”
I relax, letting the hospital room fade away as old stories spill free. “When we first got placed in New York, the feds stashed us on a farm with a cover family. We were there for six years. Papa trained Gia to hunt-she was a natural, right from the start. He had her shooting pistols, rifles, automatics, you name it. She’s the best shot I’ve ever seen. Papa never stopped being impressed.”
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I run my thumb along the edge of the hospital blanket, remembering. “He saw what I did with a blade as a kid, so he trained me on every weapon with an edge. Throwing knives, axes, short swords, even hatchets. He drilled me until handling them felt as easy as breathing.”
I glance at Killian, letting him in on the truth. “Even in WitSec, Papa still picked up work on the side. One job came when I was eighteen-at a wedding, of all places. The contract was for eight men. It should have been quiet, clean, quick. But Alessio Calvetti was there, and so was her brother Giovanni Volterra. When I saw them, I lost control. Discipline vanished. After we took out the contract targets, I snapped. I decapitated Alessio. Everything spiraled. Forty more people tried to fight back. Gia sniped our marks and took out ten of the forty. I carved my way through fifteen. Papa handled the rest. When it was done, I was soaked in blood. Papa scolded me for the chaos I left behind.”
I laugh, dark and wry. “The three of us spent the whole night cleaning up that mess. To this day, no one knows what really happened at the Ropello wedding.”
