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12: AMAYA’S POV
publish date:
2026-03-30 00:59:31
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THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 37: Roman’s POV
The air in Sicily was too sweet. It tasted of citrus and I inhaled it deeply while my mind ran in different directions. I sat in the back of the black sedan as it wound through the mountain passes, the folded photograph of Amaya Vancouver neatly in my breast pocket.Her father, Victor Vancouver, unfortunately for her was a pathetic creature. A man who had once commanded legions, now reduced to selling his daughter’s life in a damp basement. He talked about "currency" and "legacy," but all I saw was a coward trying to hide behind my shadow while I handled the dirty work he was too afraid to."He’s desperate,Don Roman," my driver, Elias, said, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. Elias had been with me since before the exile. He was the only one who knew where the bodies were buried—mostly because he’d helped dig the holes. He was also the only person that still referred to me as a DON even if I no longer officially held that position.Regardless, I was still a feared man."A de
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 36: Victor’s POV
The safehouse felt smaller now that he was here. Even the walls that was nothing but damp concrete, seemed to sweat under the pressure of his presence. He was just so dominating.Roman didn't sit even when I offered him a seat; He didn't pace either. He simply stood by the narrow, barred window, watching me. He looked like a statue carved from volcanic rock.I watched him from across the table, while my fingers nervously drummed an uneven rhythm against the wood. I had spent my life around dangerous men. I had eaten with them, did business with them, and buried them. But Roman was a different breed. If Bane Valak was a shark; Roman was the deep water itself."You’ve been staring at me for twenty minutes, Roman," I said, my voice sounding thin even to my own ears. "I’m certain I have not annoyed you enough for you to want to kill me."Roman smiled. "I’m not looking to kill you, Don Victor. I just can’t believe you’ve been reduced this low in ranking?" He finally sat, his eyes
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 35: VICTOR’S POV
I sat behind my large desk in Sicily and stared at the grainy, long-lens photograph spread across the wooden table. In all my life, I have never felt more shocked, insulted and infuriated. In the photo, the sun was setting over a private stretch of white sand. A woman stood there, her jet black hair unmistakable even from a distance. She wasn't a corpse in a ditch. She wasn't charred remains in the ruins of Raul’s estate. My daughter, Amaya Vancouver. She was alive. And she was smiling at Bane Valak. "I thought she was dead," I said quietly, my voice a jagged rasp in the quiet room. "I mourned her. I burned a goddamn empty casket for her so the papers would stop hounding me, and all this time, she’s been playing house with this bastard?" Martin, my captain a man whose loyalty was more about lack of options than actual devotion shifted uncomfortably in the shadows. "The intel is solid, Don Victor. He’s been keeping her in the East wing of the Rome estate for months. Thes
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 34: BANE’S POV
The Tyrrhenian Sea was a dark, silent, beauty under the moon. It had a healing effect that nothing could ever compare with. I suppose hat was why I’d bought this place. No city noise, no sirens, no filtered reports from captains or underlings. Just the rhythmic crush of salt water against white sand. I stood on the glass-walled deck, a glass of vintage scotch in my hand. Behind me, in the open-concept living area, the soft, melancholic notes of a piano drifted through the air. Amaya was playing a tune. I recognized it from somewhere but I couldn’t place it. I enjoyed the piece all the same. She’d been different since we arrived. The irritated, annoyed young woman had been softened up by a quiet, almost ethereal curiosity. She spent hours walking the shoreline, letting the hem of her white dress get ruined by the brine, looking at the horizon. I heard the piano stop. A moment later, the sliding glass door hissed open. "The wind is changing," she said. Her voice was
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 33: AMAYA’S POV
I had a spring in my step as I made my way down the hallway that led to Bane’s office. Usually there was a crushing weight of dread that usually accompanied my walk there but today, that dread had shifted. For the first time, I was happy? Could you believe that? Me? Amaya Vancouver? Glorified prisoner of the Valak head, happy to see Bane Valak of all people? Who would have seen that coming? I pushed open the heavy oak doors without waiting for a guard’s permission. I don’t think they were even willing to deal with anymore of my shenanigans. Bane was seated behind his desk, the glow of the desk lamp casting sharp, geometric shadows across his face. He didn't look up as I entered. He was signing papers with a fountain pen, the scratching of the nib the only sound in the room. When he did look up he let out a small, exhausted sigh. Like a tired parent coming face to face with their hyperactive toddler. "I don't recall inviting you back, Amaya," he said, his voice as
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 32: AMAYA’S POV
The food on the silver tray on the bedside table had gone cold hours ago. I had no appetite whatsoever. How was I supposed to eat when Nathaniel could be getting killed at this very moment and for what? It was so unfair. "Please, Miss Amaya," Sofia pleaded, her voice trembling as she hovered near the foot of the bed. "Just a few bites. I beg of you. The Master has already asked the kitchen three times if you’ve finished. If he finds out you’re on a hunger strike, we are the ones who will pay the price." "I don't care," I whispered, my eyes fixed on the grain of the floorboards. "Let him be mad. Let him add 'starvation' to the list of things he controls in this house." "Miss, please," Maria added, her hands twisting nervously in her apron. "He’s been in a foul state since you left his office. The whole West wing is walking on glass. If you don't eat, he’ll think we aren't serving you properly." I turned my head away, burying my face in the silk pillow. "I’m not hungry.
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 17: AMAYA’S POV
The velvet curtains of my suite were pulled back, allowing the sun to spill across the floor. It’s been a week since the incident with the guard and for the first time I had been brought to this place, I didn’t wake up with the immediate urge to vomit. The weight of everything that happened
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 16: BANE’S POV
The hallway to the East wing felt longer than usual or maybe that was just me dragging my feet.I never would admit this out loud but going to see Amaya made me feel nervous.I have done all that I can to change that and get over whatever was wrong with me when it came to her.However, I fear tha
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 20: NATHANIEL’S POV
The hotel room in Milan was perfect. I sat by the window, the city lights blurred by a steady, relentless drizzle. My laptop was open, glowing with spreadsheets of shipments and laundered accounts, but my mind was three hundred miles south. There was a sharp, rhythmic knock at the door. I didn
THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED ME 15: BANE’S POV
The iron door of the holding cell groaned on its hinges, a tortured sound that set the tone for the room beyond. I stepped into the dim, subterranean space. The smell of damp concrete and metallic blood hit me instantly. In the center of the room, strapped to a heavy wooden chair, was the ma
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