“Stand in position.”
The air was cold, crisp with the early morning chill, and I could see my breath as it escaped in soft puffs.
My hands trembled, not just from the temperature but from the nervous energy building inside me.
Matteo stood across from me, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his bored face watching my every movement.
“Relax your shoulders,” He instructed, his voice calm but firm, as though this was something he did every day. “If you’re too tense, you won’t be able to move fast enough.”
I nodded, trying to loosen up as I held the gun in front of me, the weight of it foreign in my hands. I’d never even thought about holding a weapon as my first choice of defence, let alone using one, until now.
But after what Isabella had said about Dante, about him holding her hostage, the threat he would pose to me once I finally got her, I needed to learn how to fight – both with my hands and with a gun.
Matteo had been surprisingly patient, completely aloof as he watched me. Though I had given him more incentive to be in a better mood today.
I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my body.
He was focused, like a teacher guiding a student through the basics. In this moment, it was easy to forget everything else but the man who stood close to me, breathing down my left ear.
“Feet apart,” He continued. “You need a strong stance.”
I adjusted my position as best as I could, glancing up at him for approval. His eyes scanned me critically, but he gave a slight nod.
“Good. Now, when you’re aiming, don’t close one eye. Keep both eyes open as that would help with your peripheral vision.”
I followed those instructions, lifting the gun and focusing on the target in front of me – a makeshift bullseye close to the trees in the woods I had almost been kidnapped through. My fingers hovered over the trigger, hesitating for a moment.
“Go ahead,” Matteo urged softly, his voice steady. “Shoot.”
I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.
He fell on me, blood pumping out of his chest.
The sound exploded in the quiet air, startling me as the recoil pushed my arm back. I missed the target by a mile, the bullet lodging itself into a distant patch of dirt.
Dirt that had the arms, legs, and body of the man who had smashed me against trees. His head rolled down the grasses and dirt on the wet ground.
I blinked away the image, trying my best to keep the shudder that ran through me to a minimum. If Matteo saw….
“You’re anticipating the shot,” Matteo said, moving even closer than I expected. His hands settled on my shoulders, guiding them back into position. “You need to stop thinking so much. Just feel it. Don’t overanalyze.”
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his body behind me, his breath brushing my ear. His presence was the comfort I needed, caressing that hidden part of me.
“Again.” He ordered.
I aimed once more, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
This time, when I pulled the trigger, the shot was closer to the target. Still off, but better.
“Good,” he said, his voice softer now, more encouraging. “You’re improving.”
I lowered the gun and let out a shaky breath, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but I got a glimpse of something before it disappeared.
Pride, perhaps?
“Thank you for helping me.” I said simply when we went to get a bottle of water from the flask we had brought with us.
Matteo’s lips curled up in a smile. “I should have done so from the moment you became my wife.” He said with a smooth shrug. “It also helps that after…..”
He wriggled his eyebrows like a fifteen years old boy.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face at his words. “I might be too sore for tonight.”
He snorted. “Alright, let’s move on to hand-to-hand combat.” Matteo said, stepping back from me.
He gestured for me to follow him toward a cleared area, the ground covered in soft grass.
I braced myself as he began to show me the basics – how to throw a punch, how to block, how to get out of a chokehold. His movements were precise, controlled, and deadly.
I wondered if Pedro taught him anything or if someone else did.
It was clear he had done this before, probably more times than I could count.
“Always stay on your feet,” He instructed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into a stance. “Never let yourself be pinned down. If someone gets too close, use their momentum against them.”
I was small. My momentum was the one thing I had.
I tried to mimic his moves, but my body was clumsy, uncoordinated. Every punch I threw was weak, every block too slow.
Most women in the mafia world learnt how to fight the moment they came into this world, but not the Russo’s. Dad wanted us feminine and graceful.
Isabella learnt how to fight in rebellion.
I grimaced when Matteo had to correct me each time, his hands guiding mine, his body always close.
“History lesson time.” He said suddenly, catching me off guard.
I blinked, pausing in my attempt to block his next move. “What?”
“Dante Ricci,” He continued, stepping back and folding his arms again. “You wanted to know about him.”
My heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. “How do you know about that?”
I kept what Isabella had said to myself.
Matteo’s gaze darkened. “I know more about him than I’d like. He’s ruthless, Valentina. Dangerous in ways even I can’t understand. From an old mafia family – one that should have died years ago. But he survived.”
The last Ricci.
My stomach churned at his words. “And Isabella was just given to him?”
His jaw clenched. “That’s what I don’t understand. Isabella must have been given to another man with the name Dante because it doesn’t make sense.”
What doesn’t make sense.
I shuddered, thinking about Isabella’s haunted eyes when she spoke of him. The fear she carried with her like a shadow.
“It doesn’t make sense because Dante Ricci is dead.”
What?
That couldn’t be possible.
“What are you talking about?”
“Let’s take a break,” Matteo said, his tone softening as he gestured toward the house. “You’re done enough for today.”
I nodded, grateful for the reprieve. My muscles ached, and my mind was spinning with everything he’d told me. How could my mom give my sister to someone dead.
I handed the gun back to him and turned toward the house, needing a moment to myself.
Matteo didn’t stop me.
Inside, the silence was thick, the kind that only came after intense conversations. I wandered through the hallway, my thoughts racing.
But as I passed by one of the open guest rooms, something caught my eye – a small piece of paper folded neatly on the edge of the bed.
Frowning, I stepped inside and picked it up.
It was a note.
The handwriting was familiar – Isabella’s.
How did she get a note here?
*Valentina, if you’re reading this, it means I’m closer to escaping than I’ve ever been. Dante is growing more paranoid, and I’m taking advantage of it. When the time comes, you’ll have to be ready. I’ll leave a plan for you once the time is right. The code would be our father’s birthday.*
Panic clawed up my throat as I read the words over and over, my mind racing. Isabella had a plan. She was planning to escape.
I shoved the note into my pocket, my pulse quickening. I had to find Matteo, and I had to tell him about this.
He watched the woods, his arms crossed like he was thinking about something important.
“How do you know Dante died?” I screamed my question from where I stood, watching him.
“I killed him.”