Valeria Garza Novels & Stories

GENEVA – FEDERAL INTELLIGENCE BUREAU – DAY Rain had turned into cold drizzle. Valeria stood at the feet of the tall government building, soaked to the bone, but unshaken. Her complexion was pale, her eyes blank—but burning with fury she could not beat back. Inside the glass entrance, agents ringed her, muttering and watching. She shouted more loudly with no trace of fear. "I'm Valeria Montecillo, daughter of Celeste Montecillo. I have proof of corruption in MonteTech. I have proof of illegal smuggling of tech, murder… terror."

I looked toward Katlyn before gently motioning for her to step slightly closer. “There is someone I would like you to meet.” Katlyn obeyed before stopping beside me. I looked between both women. “Katlyn…” “This is Gamma Valeria.” “The Head of Border Security and one of Silverclaw’s strongest warriors.” Valeria offered Katlyn a respectful nod. “It is genuinely a pleasure meeting you properly.” Katlyn returned the greeting politely enough. “It is nice meeting you as well.” Her voice remained courteous. But I guess that was about the extent of her interest.

Ariel’s face went pale, her hand gripping her lipstick tightly. "Julian Vane is a lot of things," Valeria continued, her voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet calm. "But he has never belonged to anyone. Not five years ago, and definitely not to a girl who has to threaten reporters just to keep his attention. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a story to write. And trust me... you don't want to be the main character in it." Valeria walked toward the door, her white heels clicking confidently against the tile floor. She grabbed the handle, her hand perfectly steady, before she paused and looked back at the furious woman in the mirror.

Standing at the hob was Zahara Luna. Valentin stopped to stare at her for a moment. Her long, straight red hair was as beautiful as ever, even wrapped up into the chignon she wore as she cooked. Her features had hardened with war and age. They were still softer than Victoria’s yet sharper at the jaw and nose than they’d been when they started the rebellion.

Cynthia's high-pitched voice broke through my thoughts. "But ma'am, she's on the list." He said the confusion in his brows was still evident. The list? I arched my brows a notch. It can't be! "You must be joking!" Cynthia continued to bicker. Valeria cleared her throat. "I think you're mistaking me for someone else. My name is Valentina Wilson from the Red Moon Pack, and I am also one of the shareholders. It's nice to make your acquaintance." She said it calmly and extended a hand for a handshake, but Cynthia didn't receive it.

The lady chuckled warmly before extending her hand to help Valeria back up. Valeria was taken aback by the woman’s sudden appearance, her eyes still wide with surprise. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. The woman’s laughter echoed softly in the forest, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Azura,” she replied, her voice carrying a sense of calm. “Why did you hide from me?” Valeria inquired, still a bit shaken by the surprise. Azura smiled knowingly. “I wanted to test your courage. Facing your fear head-on is the mark of a true leader,” she explained, her eyes scanning Valeria’s face as if to gauge her character.

I walked to the driver and smiled. “Caren Inc please” I slipped into the car and he drove off. Caren Inc was a large office building, it wasn’t so popular but I already felt a homy feeling around it. I stepped out of the car and walked into the building. I headed straight for the receptionist, a tall blonde woman with huge spectacles. Her tag said Mrs. Helen Mayer. “hey, I’m Camila Santiago and I applied for a job here” she glanced through some files and smiles.

Everything around me seemed to freeze when I heard: — Congratulations to the Siluetas modeling agency, led by CEO and owner Thiago Villarreal, to their star photographer: Lisa Miere, and their models Valeria González, Sandra Valencia, and Laura Montenegro. We invite them to the stage to receive the Fotomodel national award, — the man said with indescribable excitement.

“And give her what she needs to feed herself and children.” “You do realize that the merchant is going to tell everyone that a high-ranked wolf bought half his stock, right?” Marcel asked as the two of us walked out. “let him do that.” I said calmly. “I want the food that is within the Petrova territory to reach the people who need them. I don’t care what it would take, pretend that they’re not coming from out grounds, but these people are going to be dying for choices that could have been made for them… and their children shouldn’t suffer because of it.”

All tailored suit and eyes that didn’t blink, assessing everything, missing nothing. I took a drink from one of the glasses on the table, something red and bitter that tasted like warning, like blood and regret and then I saw her clearly. On the pole. Misa leaned in, her voice a low whisper by my ear, cutting through the music. “Her name’s fucking Gomez. Real name’s Margret Diaz. From Valencia. Used to work high-end escort rings before they brought her in.” Valencia. Spain. That’s where she was from. High-end escort. Of course. It all clicked into place, that polished, expensive danger she exuded.