Valentina’s POV I was in a place I had never seen before. The wind tasted like crisp snow. I stood at the edge of a vast mountain range, where the sky bled gold into jagged stone and peaks disappeared into the clouds like a staircase to heaven. This was where heaven met the earth. I stood on a cloud bridge between the mortal and the divine. Below me, veins of milky green stone curled through the cliffs, pulsing like a dragon’s spine. I saw caravans tracing its dangerous path, and a yellow river that looked as if it poured straight from the heavens. Then I saw him—Deva Pran, dressed like a simple goatherd, singing. He stood waist-deep in the yellow glacial stream with his eyes closed. His voice hung in the air like a spell. “From the sky he came, flame in his breath, Rider of storms, breaker of death. King of Ling, child of stars, Born to bring justice where demons are. He rides with antlers, wrapped in light, Sword like thunder, eyes like night. All shal
Tullio Cavaliere’s POV I was looking at the big screen in my Ottoman-style Baghdadi villa—the one with arched windows and ornate balconies where the Tigris River flowed beneath. It always moved the same way. Steady, unhurried, and certain of its course. It mirrors me—smooth, deliberate, always flowing exactly the way I intend. “Basim,” I chuckled, content. “That signal path they followed. It was rerouted through a ghost server in Erbil. That was you, wasn’t it? Your signature work. Beautifully done.” Basim spun around in his swivel chair, grinning like a child showing off a science project. “Those fake coordinates did their job well.” “Since I’m an expert in cyber-sabotage,” Basim said smugly, spinning the mouse beneath his fingers, “I handle hacking, surveillance manipulation, and digital disruption. The trifecta.” I smiled. “Lethal trifecta, Basim. Your precision always hits the mark.” I clapped my hands in delight. Then I laughed—loud and satisfied. “It exploi
Valentina’s POV We had landed in a remote area, then switched to a helicopter to reach the abandoned farmhouse just outside Salman Pak, near the river bend. Was this really where Maria was kept? My heart pounded in ways that didn’t feel natural—like it was trying to outrun itself. “Tell the pilot not to land directly at the farmhouse,” Raffaele said with calculated precision, turning to Kareem. “He needs to drop us off behind a dune, half a kilometer out. We can’t risk the noise giving us away.” Kareem gave a sharp nod. “And make sure the helicopter lifts off right after and circles wide, keep it in the air. Let Tullio think it’s a target he needs to hit. Use it as decoy to buy us time” Raffaele snapped on his tactical vest and clipped the comm unit into place, his expression unreadable beneath the tightening straps. “Let’s go. We parachute in.” I blinked. “Parachute?” I stuttered. ”Nobody said nothing about parachutes!?” As Raffaele opened the rear doors and the cool deser
Valentina’s POV Kareem was eyeing me from the side as I sat stiff across from him on Raffaele’s private jet. Then he turned toward Raffaele, clearly amused. “I heard your protective instincts are clashing with Valentina’s reckless determination,” he said with a grin. “It’s not funny, Kareem!” I pouted. “Well, it kind of is,” he chuckled. “You’re trying to get us all killed within five minutes. You’re brave like Lorenzo, I’ll give you that—but this…” Nabil cut in smoothly, “This requires finesse. We’ll help you, Mrs. Ricchezza. Don’t you worry.” They all burst out laughing. “Don’t make fun of me!” I said crossing my legs and shifting in my seat. “I know, I know!” Kareem raised his hands in mock surrender. “You just want to blow Tullio’s brains out with your sweetheart-grip pistol.” Kareem made a surprisingly cute simulation of me aiming the sweetheart-grip pistol, complete with sound effects. Nabil clutched his chest and slumped dramatically in his chair like he was bleeding
Valentina’s POV His weight still lingered beside me, the sheets rumpled, the air sharp with sandalwood cologne and stale whiskey. Then the screen of my phone lit up. A message. From Tullio Cavaliere. “She’s mine now, habibti.” That was all it said. “You let this happen!” I shouted, my voice cracking from the strain. “Your ‘top security’ at the villa? A joke! Maria’s with that monster because you didn’t post enough guards!” Raffaele didn’t even flinch at first. He was lying beside me, half-propped on one elbow, the tablet resting on his stomach—drone footage from the beach house flickering across the screen in green-tinged static. Then he froze. His jaw tightened. And when he finally looked up, his eyes were dark, tired, worn when they met mine. “You think I wanted this?” His voice was low at first and rough. “My men were stretched thin, Valentina. Orichalcum leads. Tariq’s spies. Your travel here in Switzerland—” He stood suddenly, his voice rising. “What do you want m
Valentina’s POV Raffaele had taken us to Bürgenstock Resort Lake Lucerne. A luxurious cliffside estate, 500 meters above the lake, with a glass-walled chalet-style wing, panoramic alpine views, spa facilities, and soaring terraces. We even had to ride a funicular to reach it. But after the way we fought—and barely escaping death—I was completely alone. Raffaele had been gone all night, that empty look still burned into my mind. He did exactly what he said he would. Slammed the door, cold and sharp, and left. I sat curled up in cream-colored loungewear, clutching my knees. Trying to hold my shit together. Our room is so luxurious, a modern alpine suite with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking panoramic view of Lake Lucerne. The design blends warm wood tones with sleek stone finishes. It features a plush bed with crisp linens, a sitting area by the window, and a glass-walled bathroom with dual sinks and soft ambient lighting. The space feels both cozy an