Valentina.
This safe house was almost identical to the one Reed and I stayed in, a stark contrast to the sprawling estates and luxurious hotels I’d grown up in.
It was bare, functional… four walls that offered safety but no comfort. The dim lighting and faint scent of mildew made it feel more like a bunker than a haven, and the constant hum of male voices reminded me that I didn’t belong here.
Nope.
It wasn’t close to identical to the old one. While I felt safe there, I felt…
Boom.
I woke up with a start, the echoes of gunfire from the previous day still rattling in my head. Matteo wasn’t in the room. The space beside me on the bed was cold, and for a brief, irrational moment, I panicked.
But then I heard his voice.
It came from the hallway, low and steady, commanding as he spoke to his men. The tension in my chest eased, but only slightly.
I wrapped my arms around myself, staring out the small, reinforced window at the grey sky. My body was stiff, my heart heavy. Reed was dead, and I’d barely had time to process it. I could still see his face in my mind… calm and determined, even in those final moments.
Those moments when he decided it was better for me to leave with Matteo.
But I couldn’t show my grief. Not here. Not now.
I slipped out of the room, following Matteo’s voice like a lifeline. He was standing in the living room with Ethan and a man named Marcello, discussing something in hushed tones. They stopped talking when they noticed me, their eyes wary.
Matteo gave me a slight nod, his expression softening. “Good morning.”
I nodded back but didn’t speak. The other men resumed their conversation, their voices dropping even lower. I didn’t care what they were discussing, I just stayed close to Matteo, keeping him in my line of sight at all times.
When he moved to check the perimeter, I followed.
When he trained in the makeshift gym with Ethan and Marcello, I sat in the corner, silent but present.
“Valentina,” Matteo said at one point, his tone gentle but firm. “You don’t have to stay here. Go rest.”
“I’m fine,” I replied quickly, my voice sharper than I intended.
He didn’t argue, but I could see the tension in his jaw as he turned back to the punching bag.
Marcello shot me a curious glance, but I ignored it. I didn’t care what he or the others thought. The only thing that mattered was staying close to Matteo, grounding myself in the one person who felt familiar in this storm of chaos.
The days dragged on. The house was filled with the sound of movement… footsteps. Hushed conversations, the occasional clang of a weapon being cleaned or assembled.
It was a strange kind of quiet. Tense and suffocating. Like the calm before a storm.
I tried to help wherever I could. Matteo didn’t stop me when I offered to clean the weapons or assist with inventory, though I could feel his eyes on me, watching closely.
“You’re holding it wrong,” he said at one point, stepping behind me as I struggled with a stubborn safety catch.
I stiffened as his hands closed over mine, guiding my fingers into the correct position. His touch was steady, grounding, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it.
“You’re getting better,” he said, his breath warm against my ear.
“Not good enough,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t respond, but his hands lingered for a moment before he stepped back.
By the evening of that day, the house had settled into a tense stillness. The others were scattered, either resting or preparing for whatever came next. Matteo had disappeared into one of the side rooms, and I found myself alone in the small kitchen, staring at the empty teacup in my hands.
The ache in my chest had grown unbearable. Reed’s death was a weight I couldn’t shake, a constant reminder of how fragile this new life of mine was.
The sound of Matteo’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I set the cup down and moved toward the hallway, drawn to the sound like a moth to a flame. His voice was low but sharp, laced with tension I hadn’t heard before.
I stopped outside the door, pressing myself against the wall as guilt churned in my stomach. I shouldn’t be listening, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
“This is a disaster,” Matteo was saying, but the tone he used didn’t sound like he meant it.
“It’s more than that,” another voice replied. Deep, commanding… his father, Pedro Nevarro. “They feld the moment I found them together without letting me do damage control. This whole thing is horrendous.”
There was a long pause, and I held my breath, my heart pounding.
“So you see why Luca can never be the Don. He steals from others.”
“He’s my son!” His father snapped, ice coating his tone. “You’re my son. But both of you have very questionable choices in women. I can’t even settle for that Annalise girl again because you had to ruin everything…”
Another pause.
“I didn’t ruin anything,” Matteo said eventually when he realized his father wasn’t going to say more. “But I’ll handle Richard. I’ll handle my brother.”
“And Isabella?”
Matteo hesitated. “She’s… different. But if it comes to it, I’ll do what needs to be done.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, and I felt my knees weaken.
Luca and Isabella.
She fled from the estate with him, then?
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Isabella had behaved like a jerk on the day of the escape, had left with Pedro so she could get together with Matteo, then provided information from the inside for me…
She had left to become a spy for me.
But following Luca now? I just couldn’t wrap my hand around it.
I hadn’t noticed that my surroundings had gotten eerily quiet until the door creaked open, and I had to stumble back, my heart leaping into my throat as Matteo stepped out.
He froze when he saw me, those blue eyes unreadable.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” I admitted, my voice trembling.
He wasn’t doing the whole hide stuff from Valentina again, but I knew he struggled with telling me the details of most things. He still wanted to be the only one who held most of the information…
Matteo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Valentina, this isn’t something you need to worry about.”
“That’s not your call to make,” I said, surprising even myself with the strength in my voice. “My sister was mentioned… I deserve to know.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then his expression softened, and he nodded.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “But not here. Not now.”
I nodded, swallowing hard as he stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine.
“You’re stronger than I realize,” he said softly, those blue eyes searching mine.
“Maybe,” I whispered. “But right now, I don’t feel it.”
His hand tightened on mine, his touch steady and reassuring. “Then lean on me.”
I nodded, letting his words sink in. For now, it would have to be enough.
Even if the only sentence that kept on repeating itself in my head was “Trust no one”