Chapter 9 – VALENTINA
Nine
VALENTINA
It takes a few seconds before I register the hand waving in front of my face. I blink until the world comes into focus, the cheers of the crowd and the blare of the buzzer announcing the winner snapping me back to the present.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours that’s got you a million miles away, Val?” Mira, one of the first girls Remi and I met at Furia, leans against my shoulder, her dark eyes wide and waiting for a response.
I offer her a faint smile, my focus drifting back to the track where the driver of a white Corvette is hanging halfway out his window, showboating his win.
The object of my distraction has a name: Maksim Belov.
I feel ridiculous, like a kid with a crush, and no matter how hard I try, my thoughts keep circling back to him. The plans I had for tonight, of losing myself in the noise and the thrill, haven’t exactly panned out.
“Nothing. Just feeling a bit achy, that’s all,” I lie, for the second time tonight. And something tells me it won’t be the last.
Like Remi, Mira eyes me with suspicion. She doesn’t know about Maksim, but the bond we all share makes it easy to spot when one of us is full of shit.
“I can always take you back home?” she offers.
That’s when it hits me. Remi’s gone. Am I so out of it that I didn’t even notice her leave?
“Where’s Remi?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. I know she can handle herself, but we have a rule when we’re out. Girl code. We always know where the other is. She’s the youngest, and she’s family, so I keep a closer watch on her than anyone else.
Mira opens her mouth to answer, but another voice slips in instead.
“Don’t worry, Poison Ivy. She’s with my brother, over by the fountain.”
I twist around, and there he is, the kid from the parking lot, lounging in the row behind us, that same smug little grin plastered on his face.
I follow where he gestures, and find Remi, smiling, and flirting with the man she swears she doesn’t notice.
“He likes her, you know.”
“Yeah?” I ask, weighing whether I should step in. My earlier logic crumbles when I remember the kind of blood that trails a man like Ryuji. Maybe it’s hypocritical, but she’s my baby. Always will be.
“Yeah. He heard she’d be here tonight.” He leans back, hands laced behind his head. “And here we are.”
“That’s kind of creepy…and a little romantic,” Mira mutters, eyeing the pair.
“Why are you snitching on your own brother?”
“He owes me.”
I tear my gaze away from Remi and fix him with a look. “What’s your name again?”
His confidence falters the second my attention snaps back to him.
“R-Renji,” he stammers. “Renji Kuroda.”
“Listen, Renji,” I say, leaning in, “never rat out family that actually gives a damn. Even if you think they owe you.”
The boy shrugs. “I’m the reason he’s here, anyway. Told him what a pussy he’s been.”
I can’t help but laugh at his bluntness. “So, since you don’t seem to hold anything back, tell me. Is he a good guy? Because Remi isn’t the kind of girl you burn.”
It’s his turn to lean in, eyes flicking side to side like he’s about to share a secret. “We know who you are, Valentina Cain.” His voice carries that easy confidence of someone who’s seen more than he should. “My brother’s a good guy. Our family too—about as good as yours, all things considered.”
I’m not sure how to feel. Part of me is impressed by his nerve. The rest of me, though? Uneasy. But before I can respond, shouting breaks out near the track. Our heads snap around just as two men square off, and in the next heartbeat, one of them pulls a gun.
Bullets ping off the chain-link fence as the crowd screams and scatters.
Mira dives behind the bleachers while Renji and I bolt for the gate. I curse under my breath, fumbling with my crutches in the crush of bodies, but adrenaline and the need to reach Remi drive me forward.
A round slams into the metal just feet away. I hit the ground hard, pain ripping through every half-healed inch of me.
“Shit!”
I grit my teeth, shove myself up, and finally spot Remi, thrashing against Ryuji’s hold. He’s thrown himself over her, shielding her with his body.
“Get off me!” she yells, loud enough to rise over the chaos.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he grunts, taking a punch to the ribs for his trouble. And maybe I’m imagining it, but there’s a ghost of a grin on his face.
The gunfire dies as abruptly as it started. Three men tackle the shooter to the ground, and the track goes silent.
I exhale, drop my head into my hands, and let out a shaky laugh.
Time to go the fuck home.