Chapter 4 Valentina Reads What Enzo Hides #5
“See the spacing,” she said. “It’s not a clerk’s hand. It’s someone who learned under pressure. The witness line was written to survive scanning.”
Enzo’s gaze narrowed. “Scanning.”
Valentina nodded. “They wanted this to be reproducible beyond physical evidence. Not just a document in a drawer - something that can be copied, printed, weaponized.”
Enzo felt bile rise. The copy in Valentina’s case wasn’t the only danger. It was part of a larger plan: to make the pact travel, to make it legible to people who didn’t know the Shadows and wouldn’t care about context.
The door groaned, and a thin seam of light widened as the lock finally gave way to force. Not a full opening - just enough to let a hand or a tool slip through.
Enzo moved, grabbing the binder and angling it so the overlay blocked the light from the crack.
His body shielded Valentina from sightlines, from anything that could be seen and copied.
His mind surged with calculations - how long before someone forced the door wider, how many seconds before Valentina’s suite became a battlefield.
Valentina didn’t panic. She leaned closer to Enzo and spoke fast, almost harsh. “The mastermind’s signature method is meant for speed. It matches the kind of legal forgery your source network would have to recognize immediately.”
Enzo’s jaw clenched. “Say it.”
Valentina’s eyes held his. “Your source network has one person who would notice that spacing habit and call it out by instinct.”
Enzo’s breath scraped. “Don’t.”
Valentina’s voice softened, which somehow made it worse. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“You are,” Enzo said, and his voice cracked on the last word. He hated that he sounded like a man begging. Hated that she could hear it anyway. “You’re making me choose between my loyalty and your need.”
The door shifted again. The crack widened, and with it came a draft carrying a colder smell - metallic, old, like a weapon being cleaned too often. Enzo’s skin tightened. The enemy was right there.
Valentina’s eyes flicked to his face, to the way his control was slipping. “Then choose,” she said. “Because they’re already inside your timeline.”
Enzo’s hands moved before he could think. He snapped the binder closed and shoved it into the desk’s locked drawer, then turned the key without looking. The click of the lock sounded too loud in the suite.
Valentina stared at his movement. “Enzo.”
“I’m buying seconds,” he said.
“Seconds for what?” she demanded.
“For me to keep you from stepping into their trap,” he said, and he hated the possessive edge in his own tone. Hated that it felt like something he wanted, not something he feared.
The door finally opened wider, not all the way - just enough for a black-gloved arm to snake through. The glove was matte, like it had been treated to resist fingerprints. The hand moved with practiced precision, reaching toward the desk lamp cord.
Enzo moved faster than his fear. He slammed his palm down over the arm, trapping it against the desk’s edge. The glove was cold under his skin, slick with oil. A muffled curse sounded from behind the door, and the arm jerked.
Valentina was already moving. She snatched the resin cradle, lifting it from the desk before the intruder could see it. The motion exposed the seam - resin holding the pact in place, the stamp pressed into the vellum like a bruise.
The intruder’s head shifted in the doorway. Enzo couldn’t see his face, only the black fabric obscuring everything and the faint glint of something in his other hand.
A thin metal blade - small, meant for quick cuts, meant for scraping evidence, not killing.
Enzo leaned in, voice low and lethal. “Back out.”
The intruder hesitated, and in that hesitation, Enzo saw something else: the way the intruder’s wrist turned. The wrist angle matched the residue pattern Valentina had just identified.
Valentina’s breath hitched. “That method - ”
Enzo didn’t look away from the arm. “Don’t name it yet.”
The intruder pulled back, but Enzo tightened his grip. He felt the glove flex, felt the resistance of a man used to being in control. He heard the rain outside, heard the distant city noise like a muffled soundtrack to their private violence.
Then the intruder withdrew and the door started to close again, slow and deliberate, as if whoever was outside didn’t want to be trapped inside the suite. They were testing access points. They were waiting for someone to reveal something.
Enzo released the arm only when the door closed fully. He didn’t lock it - he shoved a chair against the door instead, heavy enough to resist a quick shove. His heart hammered as if it wanted to break free.
Valentina stood rigid with the resin cradle in her hands. She didn’t set it down. She stared at the closed door like she was memorizing it for later punishment.
Enzo turned to her, voice tight. “You saw it.”
Valentina nodded once, eyes still sharp. “The blade wasn’t random.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Enzo muttered. “They were trying to reach the stamp area, not the binder.”
Valentina’s throat worked. “They want the resin signature impression. They want to make sure the copy can be argued as consistent.”
En