Chapter 13 The Poisoned Handshake #4
Enzo’s chest tightened. The attraction was always there, a dark ember he tried to smother with duty. But today it felt like a second heartbeat - loud, undeniable, and dangerous because it made him want her in a way duty never had.
He forced his focus back to the screen.
“The signature is the technique,” he said, “but the residue shows contact points that don’t match the earlier incidents.”
Valentina exhaled sharply. “Earlier incidents?”
He didn’t want to say it. Saying it gave it a shape. But he couldn’t keep her blind. Not after the notary’s dead eyes and the attacker’s unfinished story.
“Remember the first time The Shadows caught a handshake pattern,” he said. “It was years ago. Different handler. Same method.”
Valentina’s face tightened. “You’re talking about the chain of dead intermediaries.”
“Yes.”
Her lips parted slightly. “That wasn’t just a coincidence.”
“No.” Enzo tapped the monitor lightly with a gloved finger, though the glove felt unnecessary. “This one was meant to look like it. But it’s been adjusted.”
Valentina’s gaze sharpened again, and this time it wasn’t grief. It was focus. “Adjusted by someone who studied it.”
Enzo nodded. “Or someone who practiced it.”
A silence stretched between them, thick with the sound of the clinic’s ventilation system and the distant echo of footsteps in the main hallway. Somewhere, someone laughed - small and careless - and it made Enzo’s skin feel too tight.
Valentina’s voice dropped. “So they’re not just trying to poison me.”
Enzo turned the swab packet so the camera angle showed the residue pattern more clearly.
“They’re training,” he said.
Her eyes widened a fraction. “Training for what?”
Enzo didn’t answer immediately. He watched the test readings cycle again. The color shift stabilized, then shifted again - like a chemical changing its mind.
He hated that. He hated that the poison wasn’t static. He hated that their enemy was learning on the fly.
He looked at Valentina. “Training for the moment the pact clause gets activated.”
Valentina flinched - not physically, but internally, like the words struck a nerve she couldn’t afford to acknowledge.
Enzo softened his tone, just enough. “You’re not the target because of your name. You’re the target because you’re a key. And keyholes get tested.”
Valentina stared at the swab case like it might tell her who the mastermind was. “Then why the timing? Why change the delivery method now?”
Enzo’s thoughts moved fast, and his mind kept dragging him toward one conclusion, like a hook catching on fabric.
“Because the handshake technique isn’t safe to repeat exactly,” he said. “If someone gets too close to the original conditions, the timing betrays them.”
Valentina’s brows drew together. “Timing betrays them how?”
Enzo hesitated. He remembered the earlier series incidents - how the poison had bloomed when it wasn’t supposed to. How The Shadows had nearly lost someone who mattered because the enemy miscalculated a delay.
He remembered the way Vito had cursed under his breath, furious at the pattern - and furious at the fact that the enemy had learned enough to try again.
“It betrays them because someone expects the poison to work at the same moment,” Enzo said. “And that expectation is part of the ritual.”
Valentina’s eyes narrowed. “A ritual.”
“Yes.” He lifted the report from the counter and slid it toward her. “The handshake technique isn’t only about contact. It’s about consent to proximity. People think they’re choosing to touch. They aren’t.”
Valentina stared at the printout. Her fingers hovered above it, and Enzo saw her hands tremble again - subtle, like she was fighting the urge to snatch the paper and tear it in half.
Then she grabbed a pen from the tray and drew a line across the page.
“Where they changed the delivery method,” she said, “there should be a second contact point.”
Enzo blinked. “You’re right.”
Valentina looked up, the expression fierce. “It’s like the residue map is incomplete unless you account for how they rehearsed it.”
Enzo’s throat tightened. He felt a surge of pride he didn’t want to admit to. She was good at this. Not in the way he was trained - her logic was sharper, more personal. She didn’t just see patterns. She saw how people moved inside them.
He let himself breathe once.
Then he said, “The residue also suggests a rehearsal window.”
Valentina’s gaze sharpened. “The window between the notary’s death and the attacker’s attempt.”
Enzo nodded. “Yes.”
She swallowed. “Then whoever did this wasn’t just reacting. They were already in motion.”
Enzo looked toward the door again. The handle glinted faintly in the harsh light, and the smear on it seemed darker now, like the clinic lighting was betraying them.
“They’re closer than we want,” he said.
Valentina’s mouth twisted. “You think they’re still here.”
“I think they expected us to be in here long enough for them to deliver the next attempt.” Enzo stepped to the counter and grabbed a small case with labeled swabs - samples for comparison. “I need you to listen to me.”
Valentina’s eyes flicked to his hands. “I’m listening.”
Enzo forced himself to keep his voice controlled. It was easier when he was barking orders at men who deserved fear. Valentina deserved honesty, but honesty was a risk.