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I nod. It’s not, but right now, I just want comfort. Fuck, I want Valentina and that confuses me more than anything. I want the one person I shouldn’t. Crazy is one thing, obsessed is another, but this yearning is something totally different. I yearn for her touch to calm the torrent of emotions inside my chest.

If I knew what was good for me, I’d ignore her hold on me and leave this damn city. Find a new home and hide in the shadows forever.

The idea of leaving almost knocks me to the ground.

Killian leads me to the car, and Hayes clamps a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll get it cleaned up, kid,” he offers. “Go home. Rest. You’re good for the night.”

I take Hayes’s spot, and the two converse in whispers. I don’t listen; I can’t see anything past Quinn’s corpse and sickeningly wish for Valentina’s scent.

The Reaper pulls us away, driving us toward the O’Brien compound. I sink into the seat, letting my sister’s perfume wrap around me, like when I was a kid, being taken home after a day of fighting. Killian always saved me then—and Maeve always made it better. Maybe this time they can again.

Except, it’s not them I imagine as I fall asleep, rocked to slumber by the steady rolling tires. It’s a pair of hazel eyes, full of warmth and light, and those soft hands that dared to touch my heart and tie us together.

16

VALENTINA

It took him less than twenty-four hours to make good on his threat.

Inside the small black box, with an evergreen bow, are two fingers. The ring—a golden signet with a crest engraved on top I know intimately well—stares back at me, glowing beside the smear of blood.

These are Freddie’s fingers.

I haven’t seen the idiota since the night at the restaurant crashed by my stalker. The apex of my thighs still burns from his gun, his words, and his possessiveness. I should hate him for touching me. I should be terrified of his disregard for my boundaries, but I’m not; I crave more.

The box sits on my vanity, left on the balcony for me to find. If I have his fingers, where is the rest of Freddie?

As happy as I am to see justice doled out, it doesn’t solve my problem. Roman will marry me off if I’m untarnished, to Freddie or another. I have to finish my plan.

Turning back to my bed, I crawl under the blankets. A small wooden chest sits beside me, photos spilled out. After we returned, I begged Ello for more information about my mother. He found this treasure, locked away in the attic, and gave it to me. He said it held all her secrets.

If she was as trapped as I was, then I had more in common with her than I ever thought. Maybe I can learn from her. I know what I must do, but perhaps something from her past might help me choose a better future.

Someone rings the doorbell, alerting me to a newcomer, and lights flash before my eyes. I call out and Ello walks in, shutting the door behind him.

He frowns when he sees my gift. He was the first person I told about it, and I sent him to look into information about Freddie. By the set of his lips, the bunching of his shoulders, he’s not happy.

Ello is rarely happy; he’s a grumpy pit bull. Smiles are rare, laughs nonexistent, yet warmth always exudes from him whenever we’re together.

“I can discard that.”

I purse my lips. I should get rid of them, but I can’t seem to do it.

“No.”

“Valentina…”

“Not yet,” I amend. It’s the first gift I’ve received, and it’s from a man who made me a bloody promise to keep me. “Did you learn anything about Freddie?” I sign.

My guard sighs, sitting on the edge of my bed. He turns his nose up at the box before glancing at me.

“He’s alive,” he signs. “They found him this morning in an alley, passed out. He was missing those two fingers.”

“Any footage of what happened?”

Ello snorts. “It seems all the cameras in the area were having a systematic outage. Nothing recorded.”