0003

Chapter 3 – Valentina’s POV

I’m sitting on this huge couch that honestly looks like it costs more than my whole student loan pile. Someone threw a blanket at me, and I’m wrapped in it. My hands won’t stop shaking. My legs feel like jelly. My brain is just… noise.

I keep seeing Daniel’s face, Marcus’s brother. The guy who almost shot me in the head ten minutes ago.

We escaped through some underground tunnel thing I didn’t know existed. I swear it looked like the kind of place where crimes happen. Dante dragged me the whole way. Marcus covered us while bleeding from somewhere I still don’t want to think about.

Marcus is in the other room now, pacing and whispering into his phone like he is hiding something from me, snd doesn't want me to hear it.

And Dante?

Dante is standing by the window, back straight and his hands behind him like a soldier waiting to kill something. He took off his jacket. His shirt has blood on itand I'm pretty sure it’s not his. His sleeves are rolled up. His veins are visible. He hasn’t looked at me once since we arrived.

The silence is driving me insane. I clear my throat.

‘Okay… is anyone going to tell me what the hell happened? Or are we all just gonna pretend that nithing happened?’

Marcus stops walking. Dante’s head turns slowly, like he’s a shark smelling blood, and his eyes hit me dead-on. Cold and pale with zero warmth.

‘You want an explanation?’ he says. His voice is calm, but the kind of calm that makes you check if your will is updated.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Because people keep trying to kill me, and I don’t even know why.’

He walks toward me slowly and leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

‘Your real father was Lorenzo Castellano,’ he says. ‘He ruled half of New York before Petrov’s father ordered the hit. They shot him, your mother, and tried to shoot you. Marcus got you out.’

The couch dips because I lean back too hard. ‘And now?’

‘Now you’re the last Castellano.’ He stops right in front of me. ‘Your bloodline means more power, control and territory. Petrov wants you dead because your existence ruins everything he stole.’

‘I don’t want anything,’ I whisper.

‘Doesn’t matter what you want.’ He crouches until we’re eye-level. His face is right there. I can see a scar on his jaw. The hard set to his mouth. The kind of eyes that don’t forgive anything. ‘You’re a target and a threat. You think you can go back to your small job and your tea mugs and your soft little life? You will be already dead. You’re just still breathing.’

My throat closes up. I clench my fist inside the blanket because I need something to hold. ‘You’re trying to scare me.’

‘No. I’m telling you the truth.’ His tone cuts. ‘Scared people get sloppy. Smart people survive.’

‘So what? What do I do now?’ My voice goes thin. ‘Let you… own me?’

‘Yes.’

The word lands like someone threw a brick at me. I laugh. It sounds weird and shaky. ‘Are you serious? You need therapy.’

‘Probably.’ He stands. ‘But I’m still the only one keeping you alive.’

‘Stop calling me yours. I’m not yours.’

His eyes flick to my face like I’m a child arguing with gravity.

‘Little doe—’

‘I said stop calling me that.’

‘Then would you prefer wife?’

My whole spirit leaves my body. I stand up fast, the blanket falling to the floor, my cheeks heating.

‘No. Enough. You can’t just decide my whole life because some Russian mafia freaks want me dead. I’m a human being, not… not some object!’

‘You’re both,’ Dante says. ‘A person and a piece on the board. And the game is already playing. Those people…they're already strategizing their moves, and you're one of the pieces.’

‘Then I quit.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Watch me.’

I march toward the door, except I don’t get far.

Dante is in frong of mr in an instant and grabs my wrist, his grip tight. I feel something run through my body at the contact and I flinched like the touch was fire burning me.

‘Let go,’ I say sharply.

‘No.’

‘I said LET—’

He pulls me back so fast the room spins. The next second my back hits the wall, and his body is blocking my escape. His hands are on the wall beside my head. His breath is warm as it hit my lips. His cologne smells expensive and dangerous.

‘Listen,’ he says, voice dropping. ‘You can hate me. You can fight me. You can scream until your throat breaks. I don’t care. But you WILL stay alive.’

‘I don’t know you,’ I whisper, my voice shaking at his words.

‘You know enough.’ His eyes drop to my mouth, then back to my eyes. The heat there is quick and sharp, and it feels… wrong. Wrong and something else. ‘I killed six men tonight to keep you safe.’

‘Why?’ I gasp. ‘Why do you care?’

His jaw locks. His eyes darken. ‘Because you’re mine.’

‘I’m not—’

‘You are. From the second you got in my car.’

He pushes away from me, and the cold rush hits the spot where his body had been. I hate the way my body reacts. Like I’d gotten used to his heat. Marcus watches us from across the room. His face is tired.

‘Val,’ he says, ‘he’s right.’

‘Don’t,’ I snap. ‘Please don’t.’

Dante’s already texting someone. Typing with the same casual energy someone uses to order food.

‘We’re doing it tomorrow,’ he says.

‘Doing what?’

‘The wedding.’ He doesn’t even look up. ‘It will be a small quick ceremony. It's way safer that way.’

‘Tomorrow?’ My voice cracks into a high-pitched sound I don’t recognize. ‘Have you lost your damn mind?’

‘Every hour we wait is a risk.’ He pockets his phone. ‘You’ll wear white… or something simple. Doesn’t matter.’

‘I’m not a dress-up doll.’

He shrugs. ‘You’re going to be a Valentino. So you're going to start acting like it.’

Something inside me snaps and I start laughing loud like a maniac. ‘This is insane,’ I say, wiping at my face from the tears that are stinging behind my eyes. ‘You’re insane. This whole thing is insane.’

Dante watches me and instantly, he is in front of me, grabbing my neck. ‘Get used to insane, doll. It’s your new life.’