Chapter 53 – VALENTINA
Fifty-Three
VALENTINA
When I pull up to Furia, Remi’s already there.
She’s leaning against the hood of her car, Kuroda’s thumb brushing gently over the split on her lip.
I kill the engine and sit there for a second, just watching them.
The way he’s touching her is careful, focused, like every part of him is tuned to her.
And the way she’s letting him. It pulls a smile out of me.
Because he looks at her the way Maksim looks at me. All quiet storm on the outside, rottweiler teeth when needed, but a complete marshmallow for one girl.
Maybe it’s not love between them yet, but there’s something real there. Something soft and good. And my baby Remi deserves every ounce of happiness she can get her hands on.
Two swift raps on my window jolt me, and Renji’s goofy grin fills the glass.
I laugh and wave him off as he steps back, giving me space to open the door.
“Hey, Poison Ivy. I was wondering when you were gonna show.” He leans in and peeks into my cabin with way too much curiosity. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“He’ll be here in a bit.”
“Cool.” He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets, then does another quick scan of my car. “And…your sister? She’s not too into this type of scene, is she?”
There it is. He tries to play it casual, but I don’t miss the note of disappointment in his voice.
“Not too much,” I say, starting toward Remi. Renji beside me. “She’s more of a bike girl.”
A spark suddenly flickers behind his eyes, like he's just tucked that information somewhere important until he's ready to cash it in later.
The older Kuroda offers a nod and a friendly smile as we approach. But the peaceful moment doesn’t last.
Engines snarl in the distance, deep and aggressive.
A fleet of five cars announces itself long before rounding the corner, mufflers roaring so hard I feel them in my chest. The unfamiliar crew spills out before the tires even stop rolling…
loud, cocky, and bold enough to make every head at Furia twist their way.
“That’s them,” Remi says, pushing off her car for a clearer look. “And I hate them already.”
I step beside her, arms folding across my chest. “I’m right there with you.”
“Supercars, a lot of muscle, all stock,” she mutters, already assessing their lineup like she’s running diagnostics in her head.
Then she starts forward, but Kuroda tugs her elbow. “And where exactly are you going?”
“Just a little friendly introduction,” she says. Except her face tells a different story.
With a chuckle, I follow behind them.
The newcomers are young, all around Remi’s age. Three girls and the rest guys. They climb out of their shiny imports and Euro-muscle like they already own the damn place. The crowd swarms, their phones out, voices loud, admiring paint jobs and engines.
But even with all that attention on them, I notice the way their eyes keep cutting back to us. Subtle, but unmistakable. Like they’re keeping tabs and clocking every move the four of us make.
Odd. How very fucking odd.
“Remi…”
“I see it,” she says immediately, already reading the same play I am.
A few weeks ago, we would’ve shrugged it off. Reputation, ego, the same old story. New crew shows up with something to prove, they do their homework, and of course they stare down the girls who’ve been taking everyone’s money.
But after all this Architect and Ledger bullshit, and the intruder from this morning, it’s impossible not to let paranoia get the best of us. And something about their presence here tonight seems intentional, making the Glock at my hip feel a little less idle.
I’m so locked in, my mind racing through every scenario, that I don’t even register footsteps behind me until a strong arm wraps around my waist and warm lips brush my temple.
“Hey, beautiful.”
For just a moment, the world fades out, and the noise and tension all dissolve when I find Maksim's eyes.
“You made it.”
“I had no choice but to be late, but you’re not going out of my sight anytime soon.”
Normally, I’d have a smart-ass rebuttal ready, something about possessive Russian men and overprotective tendencies, but after that very thorough lesson in my office today, I know better.
Maksim jerks his chin toward the new crew before I can explain anything, but I don’t get the chance. A tall guy steps forward, his platinum shaggy hair partially falling over his eyes, with sharp cheekbones and a smile that looks a little too practiced.
“Boaz,” he says, offering a hand. None of us take it.
But his smile doesn’t twitch. He just lets his hand fall back to his side, eyes sliding over each of us.
A cold weight settles in my gut.
Boaz leans back against a red Bugatti, hiking his sleeves up to the crook of his elbows before folding his arms like a smug little bastard. He starts talking, something about respect, and about wanting to race, but his voice fades into static.
Because I see it. A flash. Barely a second, but long enough.
The same scorpion tattoo inked on his forearm, identical to the one on the dead intruder in our garage this morning.
My pulse races, and I slide a glance at Remi.
She saw it too. Her face goes blank, not shocked or afraid. But cold, like a switch was flipped.
And before a single word can leave my mouth, she moves.
Remi slams the heel of her hand into Boaz’s nose with a brutal crack, cartilage snapping clean. His head whips back, and blood spurts instantly.
Gasps ripple through the crowd, then erupt into hollers, cheers, and phones in the air.
Remi already has her Glock out, the barrel pressed tight to Boaz’s skull as he drops to his knees, clutching his face and choking on blood.
In an instant, everything around us descends into madness.
Maksim steps in front of me, and Kuroda lunges to cover Remi’s flank. Renji curses under his breath, stepping up beside his brother.
“One of your guys broke into our place today,” Remi snarls as she grinds the muzzle into Boaz’s skull. “He tried to pull a knife on me, take my gun, and he busted my fucking lip.”
Boaz spits blood onto the pavement, more dripping down his chin as he lifts one hand in a lazy signal for his crew to stay put.
“Smiley just wanted to check out the competition. No harm, no foul.” He flashes a grin, row of red teeth on display. “I like you. Got a little fire in you, don’t you?”
Remi doesn’t blink, just digs the barrel in harder. “You wanna see how much?”
Boaz chuckles and turns his head away to spit again, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, I wanna know what you did with my brother.”
Brother.
This isn’t going to end well. I move in beside Remi, my gun steady, and Maksim steps forward without a word, blocking off the rest of Boaz’s crew with nothing more than his size and eyes that promise violence.
“Rem, let him up,” I say, aware of all the bystanders still with their phones out.
She doesn’t. “Something isn’t right here, Val.”
“I know.” My hand closes around her shoulder. “But not like this.”
Boaz’s smirk stretches, blood still slick on his teeth. “Listen to your friend, pretty girl. But don’t worry. We’ll dance another day.”
It’s my turn.
I raise my gun and put the barrel right between his eyes. “That sounds a lot like a threat.”
A wet laugh bubbles out of him. “I meant on the track. Fuck, you Philly chicks are hostile as—”
He doesn’t finish.
In one blur of motion, Maksim’s hand snaps around Boaz’s throat, and he yanks him upright, feet leaving the ground. For half a second, Maksim looks over at me, a question in his eyes.
Do I crack his head open right here, or do you want him breathing?
The whole lot goes dead silent. I shake my head once, and Maksim releases instantly, dropping that asshole to the pavement with a hard thud.
Boaz coughs and stumbles, then scrambles to his feet. He backs away four steps, eyes locked on us, and blows a taunting kiss before turning back toward his crew.
“We’re forfeiting, Remi. Too much of a risk tonight,” I say, threading my fingers through Maksim’s, who’s still coiled like a loaded gun and ready to spill blood. “We have something more concrete now that we know—”
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a chambered round snaps the air in half. We all whip around, guns drawn, but we’re half a second too late.
A muzzle flashes, and a bullet tears free, headed straight for Remi. Everything suddenly feels like it’s unfolding in slow motion. The crowd screams and scatters for cover. My own voice rips loose, and full of terror, right as a hail of gunfire explodes across the lot.
Maksim tackles me down behind a car, shielding my body with his as bullets ping off metal, ricocheting and shredding around us. But I claw at him…nails, fists, panic, because I have to get to Remi.
“Valentina—stop.” His arms lock around me like steel. “You can’t help her if you’re fucking dead.”
“There’s no time,” I choke out. “Cover me.”
“Fuck.”
He pops up, firing controlled bursts into the lot. And the moment he gives me that sliver of cover, I make a run for it.
My heart is pounding so hard it feels like my ribs might crack, but I don’t slow. Even as blood thrums in my ears, drowning out every shout and every gunshot still echoing around me. Because nothing exists except the spot where I finally see her.
Remi is crouched over Kuroda, Renji on his knees beside them, crying so hard he’s gasping for air.
“Remi.” My voice is thick with panic and relief. I drop next to her and touch her back. She’s trembling, hands slick and dark with blood as she sits in a growing pool of it beneath them.
“Remi,” I whisper again, terrified to hear the answer. “Baby…are you hit?”
She shakes her head once, the movement slow and jerky.
“H-he’s…dead.” The words barely make it out. “He saved me.”
Her voice splinters on the last word, and I feel her pain like it’s my own. I want to collapse with her, cry and rage with her, but I can’t, and I won’t. Because she’s alive.
She’s alive.
And thank God it’s not her lying on that concrete.
“I’m going to kill him!” Renji suddenly snatches the gun from her hand.
“Renji—wait!”
But he’s already running. Remi tears after him, and I bolt after them both.
The lot is a warzone. Cars skidding, people shouting, and the rumble of engines as they all try to escape. Gunfire rings out again, but this time it’s Maksim giving us cover as we sprint.
By the time I reach them, Remi and Renji are standing over Boaz.
He’s slumped against the bumper of a car, pressing a hand to his neck as blood leaks between his fingers, soaking his shirt.
And still, even staring down death, the bastard is grinning.
“Do it, kid,” Boaz croaks, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “Show me your balls finally dropped.”
Renji growls, arm shaking so hard the barrel wavers. When his breaths start coming in fast, broken gasps, for a second, I think he’ll pull the trigger.
He doesn’t.
His knees hit the pavement, and he breaks, sobbing, shoulders shaking, and the gun dangling uselessly from his fingers.
I lift my weapon...
“No.” Remi’s voice slices through.
She takes the Glock from Renji’s trembling hand. And when she turns to face Boaz, she’s somewhere else entirely. Past the grief and the rage, in a place that will change her forever.
His grin falters for one heartbeat, then slides back, and he lifts his chin. A prideful son of a bitch to the last breath.
“Sub umbra venimus,” he whispers.
Remi empties the entire mag into him with no hesitation and no mercy. His body jerks with each round until his face is unrecognizable, and he finally slumps sideways, sliding down the bumper in a lifeless heap.
“Hey…” I reach for her, but when she looks at me, her eyes are like fractured glass.
Shattered and gone somewhere I can’t reach.
A hot surge of anger rises in my chest, guilt on its heels because I couldn’t protect her from this heartbreak.
Screeching tires grab my attention. It’s one of them.
I don’t think.
Don’t breathe.
I sprint.
And I’m behind the wheel of Poison Ivy before anyone can stop me.
“Valentina—!”
Voices blur behind me. But nothing matters except the bastard trying to get away. I slam the pedal down and take off after him.