Valentina #2
They don’t stop.
His weight crushes down on me, his hands tearing at my jacket. I scream, thrashing, but he’s too strong. His breath is hot and rank against my neck.
“No, stop, please!”
His phone buzzes.
He pauses, just for a second, and pulls it out.
That second is all I need.
A crowbar glints on the concrete floor. I lunge for it, swinging hard.
The impact vibrates up my arm. Metal connects with skull—a sickening crack—and he staggers back, blood streaming down his temple.
“You stupid bitch.”
He raises his gun, and the world narrows to the black circle of the barrel.
This is it. This is how I die.
BANG.
The door explodes inward.
Salvatore.
He moves like violence incarnate, gun raised, eyes scanning, finding the threat in half a heartbeat. His men pour in behind him, a tide of black suits and cold efficiency, but he’s already moving.
Two shots. Clean. Precise. Both men drop.
Then his eyes find me.
For one split second, I see something I’ve never seen in Salvatore Vitale’s face: terror.
“Valentina.”
My name tears out of him, raw and broken, and then he’s crossing the room in three strides, dropping to his knees beside me.
“Oh my God,” I exhale.
He looks at me and terror flashes across his face. Then something worse. Rage, raw and primal.
He storms across the room, stands over the first man’s body, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to breathe through something that won’t let him.
For a second, I think it’s over.
Then… BANG.
The shot cracks through the room, sharp and deafening.
The man doesn’t move. He can’t.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Salvatore keeps firing.
Each pull of the trigger is precise, controlled, but there’s nothing controlled about him. Not now. The recoil snaps through his arm again and again, the sound echoing off the concrete walls, filling every corner of the space until it feels like there’s no air left to breathe.
The body jerks with each impact, lifeless, unrecognizable.
He doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He just keeps pulling the trigger like the man beneath him can still feel it.
Like he needs him to.
Like it’s not enough.
Click.
The sound of an empty chamber cuts through the ringing in my ears.
Salvatore doesn’t lower the gun. He just stands there, finger still on the trigger, the barrel pointed at what used to be a man.
His chest heaves. His hand doesn’t shake.
He pulls the trigger again.
Click.
And again.
Click.
Like he’s trying to kill him twice. Three times. A hundred times.
Like it will never be enough.
“Salvatore.” My voice comes out small, broken.
For a moment, no one moves.
No one speaks.
Then he’s in front of me, hands everywhere. My face, my arms, my ribs, searching for wounds with frantic, trembling fingers.
“Salvatore, you… they…” My voice breaks apart. “My father is dead.”
I feel my legs give out, but he catches me before I fall, lifting me against his chest.
“Daddy,” I sob into his neck, the word tearing out of me like something I’ve been holding back my entire life.
“Valentina.” His voice is rough, urgent. “That is not your father. Your dad is fine. I told you I had him. Fuck.” He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Why did you come here? Are you out of your fucking mind? They could’ve killed you.”
Relief crashes through me so violently it nearly brings me to my knees. “What?”
I scramble out of his arms and rush to the body. My hands shake as I reach for him, as I turn the man’s face toward the light.
Not him.
The relief is so violent it nearly brings me to my knees.
Then I see the face.
“Vladimir.”
My heart cracks anyway. A tear slips off my jaw and lands on the dead man’s jacket, darkening the fabric in a small, perfect circle.
“What happened to him?” I whisper.
Salvatore paces like a caged animal, the length of the room and back again, boots striking the concrete in sharp, controlled beats. His fists are clenched so tight the tendons stand out, his jaw locked so tight I can see the muscle ticking beneath his skin.
He doesn’t answer me.
He doesn’t even look at me.
“He ran out of time,” Nico says flatly from the doorway.
Salvatore stops pacing. For a second, everything goes still. Then he’s in front of me.
“Valentina, that’s enough.” His voice is controlled. “We have to get you to the hospital. Now.”
“No.” I shake my head, the movement sending a sharp pulse of pain through my face. I wince but push through it. “I’m okay. I just want to go home.”
His eyes flick over me, assessing. Rage flashes so fast I almost miss it.
“Nico.” It’s not a question.
“Dr. Drew’s on the way,” Nico answers immediately.
Salvatore nods once, decision made.
“Why did you do this?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that comes before an explosion.
“I thought—”
He lifts his hand, not violently, not even angrily. Just enough to stop me from saying whatever comes next.
“Let’s move out,” he commands, his voice controlled. “Nico, get this cleaned up.”
The men disperse immediately. No questions. No lingering glances. Just quiet efficiency as the room resets itself around what just happened.