Chapter 5 – The Hunter’s Shadow

Valentina’s POV

After I sent a message to Raffaele, I bolted upright, my chair scraping against the stone floor. My hand seized Maria’s wrist—fingers tight, face rigid with urgency.

“Valentina, what’s wrong?” Maria’s voice trembled, her eyes searching mine. Fear flickered there, mirroring the dread I couldn’t hide.

“No questions. Move.” I pulled her into the chaos of the crowd.

We vanished into Baghdad’s dying Souk al-Safafeer—once a haven of craftsmanship and copper artistry. Now, it was a whisper of its former self, clinging to life in the shadow of the American invasion.

The market had once throbbed with the heartbeat of Iraq—metal against metal, families bargaining, the scent of tradition hanging thick in the air.

Now, it was only echoes.

Saffron. Smoke. The sharp scent of heated copper.

Somewhere, a hammer struck rhythmically against a dish. My pulse synced to that beat—frantic, erratic.

Only the rich could still afford what this place offered. People like the Ricchezzas. People like me, now. That thought sat bitter on my tongue.

Normal people were just trying to survive. And here I was, dragging my best friend through their struggle, hunted by shadows that refused to die.

Tuillo was close. I could feel it.

His obsession with Maria had always been a sickness—possessive, unhinged, a warped claim disguised as love.

The way he looked at her—like she wasn’t a person, but property.

How had he found us?

Had he followed me? Or did he have someone watching her? Either answer chilled me.

I wished he’d moved on. But monsters never do.

And then there was Tariq—another ghost swirling in Baghdad’s haze. Invisible, but always there.

If I wanted to find him, I’d need bait. Men like Tariq chased power, leverage, benefits.

Maybe if I let the right rumors slip into the right circles, he’d find me.

And if he did, I’d be ready.

I had Ricchezza’s name now. His resources. His wealth. His damn blood on my skin every time I let him touch me.

The thought of Tuillo—his charm, his cruelty—made my skin crawl.

I had to be flawless. No mistakes. As Maria once said, no fuck-ups.

“Valentina?” Maria gasped, breathless. “Why are we running?”

I slowed. She was pale, her voice cracking.

“I can’t keep this pace up.”

I stopped. Looked her dead in the eyes.

“Tuillo,” I said. “You were right. He’s been watching you.”

Her face went white.

Tears welled before she could stop them. Her hand flew to her wrist, rubbing at phantom bruises long faded from Tuillo’s grip. But her mind still remembered.

“All the things he did…” she whispered. “I thought I’d never have to see him again.”

Tuillo hadn’t just hurt her—he’d dismantled her, piece by piece, until she was a shell. Maria had clawed her way back from the edge, but now she unraveled, shaking in the street, her breath shallow and ragged.

I pulled her into a fierce hug, anchoring her. “You’re safe,” I murmured, lips against her hair. “He won’t touch you. Not while I’m here.”

The lie tasted bitter. Safety was an illusion with Tuillo near.

And then—I saw him.

His walk was calm. Casual.

He moved through the crowd with predatory ease, his tailored suit absurdly pristine against the market’s grit.

Tuillo Cavaliere—a charming sociopath, a man who left ruin in his wake.

Maria froze behind me.

I stepped forward, placing myself between them.

Tuillo smiled—slow, deliberate—like we were playing a game he’d already won. “Valentina. Always so protective. Step aside. Maria needs me.”

“She doesn’t,” I said, planting my feet. “And you’re not getting near her.”

He tilted his head, like a curious child. “You don’t understand. I love her. I’d do anything for her. I’d burn down the whole world for her.”

I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

His smile twisted. “Scaring her? Me? Don’t be dramatic.”

“Tuillo, she’s terrified. Leave Maria alone,” I said, my voice firm, unmoving.

“Only I can save her. From herself. From people like you, whispering doubts in her ear.” He leaned closer, voice dripping with calculated softness.

“She’s fragile, Valentina. You know that. She needs someone who understands her.”

“She needs someone to protect her,” I snapped.

His eyes narrowed. “And you think that’s you?”

“I think it’s anyone but you.”

Tuillo’s voice dropped into that poison-slick charm. “Maria, don’t listen to her. You know I never meant to hurt you. That was never my intention. I was trying to protect you—from yourself, from the world. You don’t need to run anymore. I can take care of you. I always have.”

Maria whimpered, her grip on my arm tightening. She couldn’t speak, pinned beneath the weight of his lies.

He took another step forward.

I drew a breath. “If your version of love is fear and control, then she doesn’t want it.”

“She’s not yours to speak for.”

He turned to Maria with that disgustingly silky tone.

“Right, my love? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice last time. I was angry. You know how much I hate when we fight. Just… forgive me. We’ll start over.”

She shivered, uncontrollably, memories clawing their way back.

Then—engines.

A black SUV prowled into the market.

Doors snapped open. Grim-faced men in dark tactical gear poured out, weapons slung low, smirks sharp as blades.

One of the men’s eyes lingered too long on Maria. His tongue flicked across his lips with a sneer.

Nausea twisted in my gut.

Tuillo’s smile widened. “I don’t like being ignored, Valentina.”

“I brought assurance. I’d prefer you come willingly, of course,” he concluded, with calm menace.

Maria gripped my arm like a lifeline.

“You bastard,” I hissed. “You hired mercenaries?”

“I hired peace of mind,” he said smoothly. “Come willingly, and no one gets hurt.”

Maria’s nails dug into my arm. Her breath hitched.

Then—another engine. A roar like fury.

A blur of silver and rage.

Raffaele’s Lamborghini tore through the narrow road, headlights slicing through the air like twin blades.

It came to a screeching halt.

He stepped out, black coat flaring like wings behind him. More cars followed—sleek, armored, precise.

Guards spilled out—trained, brutal, cold-eyed.

Raffaele’s gaze found me instantly.

One look at Maria—shaking behind me—and he barked sharp orders.

His men moved fast, efficient, positioning themselves between us and Tuillo’s thugs.

The market fell into eerie silence.

Guns drawn on both sides.

Tension cracked in the air, thick as a thunderstorm since hell was about to break loose.