Vincent Valentine Final Fantasy 7 Novels & Stories

“Sometimes I go overboard.” She eyed me. “You know Vincent was his father?” “Yes. He has a little brother.” “Another one?” “Yes.” “Victor, can we go?” “If you want to. I owe him an apology, too. I may have overreacted trying to protect my family, too.” I sighed. “Guess we better get our acts together before we get smacked for being stupid.” He laughed and held his hand out. “I’m Victor, Valerie’s husband.” I shook his hand. “I’m Falcon…. Ummmm…”

Then a brutal series that echoed through the room like gunfire. He didn’t picture his enemies. He pictured Valerie Sinclair standing at the head of that glass table. Valerie issuing orders like executions. Valerie choosing war without blinking. Valerie wearing control like it had been carved into her bones. Seven years ago, he’d underestimated her. That mistake had nearly cost him everything.

I stayed there, surrounded by blood, violence, and silence, feeling everything I had lost and everything I had become, witnessing the fruits of all the pain that had been planted in me. I stayed there, alone, more alone than I had ever been, with no enemy left to blame but myself. Until the door opened. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was; I had been expecting him. His scent and the sound of his breathing spread through the space, standing out against the cold silence that permeated that prison, now a tomb. “Violet…” Hertor’s voice echoed, weak, trembling, almost as trembling as I was. I remained still, lying before Rayan’s body, covered in his blood. Now that vengeance was done, there

The man was smiling ear to ear, flaunting his perfect set of teeth and dimples on both cheeks. “Thanks,” she smiled casually. Even she disliked him. She was not that rude to show him a nasty attitude. For some reason, she could not understand that she hated him so much. Especially when smiling, it appeared he had a lot of naughty thoughts in mind. The man was Valentino. He was introduced to her by Rab during a gun show a few months ago. He was the owner of a famous gun shop and accessories in the province. He was very persistent in courting her in the past two months. Even though she repeatedly informed him that she was already taken, he wouldn’t believe her.

Like something in him was unspooling. Vittorio didn’t stop thrusting. Didn’t flinch. He just turned his head slightly and said, voice low— “If you’re going to stand there, you better learn to watch.” And that’s how I knew this wasn’t over. Not for any of us. Vittorio stilled behind me, his breath hot on my spine. My chest rose, slick with sweat. I turned—slowly. Valentino. He stood in the doorway like a ghost that had wandered into the wrong room. His hair was tousled. Shirt half-unbuttoned. Eyes red-rimmed. He looked… hollow. Like he’d walked through something dark and never fully came back.

Although, he wouldn’t beg for his life or establish any farce tended towards asserting a dominant reason not to dare shoot him, rather, he uttered what came off as an advise to May. “Don’t shoot May.” He said. “And why would I hesitate to end you after everything you have done to the warlock community.” May replied as his misguided plea seemed to move no mountain in her hard heard. Valentine then smiled as he faced his palm to the floor and bore them into supports to allow him rise from his sentence on the floor. “I have instructed that the red wing pack keep to their agreement to help you retake the air pack.” Valentine revealed as this insighted a unique confusion from amongst them.

"Fine… it was Julian Valentino.” Gigi froze. “Julian Valentino? You mean the Holy Billionaire?” “The very one. I was locked in with him for the entire protocol. I walked away with $160,000 and an exclusive deal.” Gigi’s jaw dropped. "The Saint? Thalia, they say he hasn't touched a woman in years. They say he’s made of ice." "Actually, he’s not ice," Thalia whispered, the memory of his touch making her skin prickle. "He’s fire.”

Had even thanked her. The first seeds were planted. Now she just needed to be patient, to nurture them carefully, to let them grow into something that could destroy him. Sera finished her cleaning and returned to the servants' wing, her mind already spinning with next moves and strategies. That evening, after dinner, she returned to her room and sent another encrypted message to Dante: *Direct contact established with target. Initial positioning successful. Proceeding to next phase. Maintain ready status.* She deleted the message, then pulled out her notebook and made careful notes about everything she'd learned today. Celeste's jealousy and fear. Kael's honor and fairness. The way his expre

"Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness"- Poppy Z. Brite. Rose's POV: My body shook as silent cries of agony escaped me. Mr. Victor just stood there, frozen, thunderstruck, angry. His eyes were glued to Madeline's pale, lifeless face. His eyes were red, which made his turquoise irises stand out more, making him look hauntingly devastated. He let out a roar and shoved me away from her. My back hit the cold floor with a loud thud as a searing pain shot through from my spine.

“If you’re leaving tomorrow, you’re not slipping away like a ghost. You’re a part of this family Valentina. You say goodbye properly.” I could hear movement in the background. Cabinets opening. The familiar sounds of home. "I'll call everyone." "You don't have to—" "I do." Her voice softened. "Seven o'clock." I blinked rapidly. "Maddie..." "Seven o'clock, Valentina." The tenderness nearly undid me. "Rest assured, we will all be here." Tears burned unexpectedly behind my eyes. I managed a shaky smile. "Thank you." She didn't ask questions. Not then. Not when she could clearly hear I was hanging on by a thread. Like she had so many times before, she simply stepped in and supported me.