Lahat ng Kabanata ng Three Days in the Morgue Made Me His Queen: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 18

Killian's POVAnother whiskey bottle went empty.I stared at the dried, blackened tactical belt on the edge of the desk. And the empty vial next to it with my clinic number.They'd sat there for three years. Nobody was allowed to touch them.The penthouse curtains were always drawn. Like a tomb for the living.Since that night three years ago, I doubled my underworld territory in Manhattan. Nobody dared to breathe a wrong word on Rossi turf.But I knew the truth. The man who disarmed bombs barehanded in the rubble died right outside that sterilization chamber.The nerve pain in my right hand flared up again.Back then, I smashed emergency glass to save her. This hand was shredded to the bone. Thirty-seven stitches.The doctors said surgery could fix it. I refused.I needed this pain.It was the only proof I was still alive."Boss, time for your meds." Marco's voice came through the door. Careful and testing.I ignored him.11 PM. I started hearing the voice again.Inside the glass cham

Valerie's POVThe night breeze blew the lake's chill over the terrace.I looked at Killian kneeling on the floor. My heart felt absolutely nothing.Those ripped-open wounds three years ago. Those fifteen suffocating hours. Now they felt like an old movie I watched a long time ago. I remembered the plot, but I couldn't feel the emotions anymore."Valerie, you're just mad at me." He suddenly looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. His voice carried desperate madness. "Mad that I whipped you. Mad that I burned you. Right?"He didn't wait for my answer. His hand moved to his belt.The metal buckle clicked open.He shoved the belt into my hand. He squeezed my fingers so hard they almost broke. "Pour that medicine on me. Whip me. Whatever makes you feel better."He ripped open his shirt. He showed the heartbeat line tattoo on his chest. He looked at me with red eyes, waiting for a late judgment.I looked down at the warm belt in my hand.Three years ago, this thing landed on my back fifty-seven

Valerie's POV"Apply pressure to the wound!"The moment my voice burst out, my body moved ahead of my mind. Medics rushed out of the hotel lobby. The stretcher wheels rolled over the bloody pavement.Killian's eyelids were growing heavy. His lips faded to ash gray by the second."BP seventy-four, pulse weak!" A medic yelled over the ambulance sirens.I stood there. I watched him get loaded onto the stretcher. His blood-soaked suit clung to his skin. Four bullet holes like four silent mouths.Arthur's hand squeezed my shoulder. "Are you okay?"I couldn't speak.The Geneva General Hospital ER was lit up bright. The Director himself came out and recognized me immediately."Dr. Pierce! Our head of trauma surgery is abroad for a conference. You're the only one here qualified to operate on a penetrating trauma of this level!" He spoke incredibly fast, practically begging. "Please, the patient is critical!"I stood in the hallway outside the OR. The red light wasn't on yet.What flashed throu

Valerie's POVNo smell of gunpowder in the wind. No armored cars locking down three blocks. No suffocating mafia rules.The wind from the Alps carried the scent of grass and sweet wine over my bare back.I stood in front of the mirror. I let the dress designer tweak the neckline.I picked this dress myself. Simple cut. A large, delicate lace cutout on the back."Dr. Pierce, are you sure about this style?" The designer looked hesitantly at the scars on my back in the mirror. "We could add a lining to cover...""No need." I cut her off. Soft but firm. "Leave it."Three years ago, those scars were a secret I was terrified to show. The bumpy burns, the crisscrossing whip marks. They were the badge of shame the Rossi family carved into my flesh.Three years later, under Arthur's care, they had faded into uneven light lines. Like overlapping butterfly wings stretching across my shoulder blades.I didn't need to hide them anymore.They weren't shame. They were proof that I survived.A simple