The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 8: Veiled Threats

VALENTINA

Dio, the drive home was hell. A silent, tension-filled hell that set Val's teeth on edge.

As soon as they'd reached the SUV outside of the warehouse, Matteo opened the vehicle's rear door. He stood to the side, a hulking mass of simmering anger, and wordlessly waited for her to climb into the back row.

Val hadn't been able to veil her hurt-laced surprise. She couldn't remember the last time that she hadn't sat beside Matteo in the passenger seat, and now he was forcing her to the back like a stranger? She shot him a withering glare but somehow managed to press her lips tight to prevent a barbed insult from escaping.

No one spoke throughout the drive. Luca, the poor soul, sat in the passenger seat beside Matteo, occupying himself with his cellphone. Val wished he would've sat in the back with her, if only to provide a shred of moral support against the man at the wheel.

From the moment he climbed into the car, the hitman didn't spare Val a second look. He clutched the steering wheel with one hand, while his other elbow rested on the window's base. To anyone else, Matteo might've looked at ease– unbothered. But Val had spent the better part of the summer learning to read the subtleties in Matteo's body language, and she knew his control teetered on a very dangerous edge.

His right hand's knuckles bleached from how tightly he grasped the wheel, and the tendons in his forearm slid slowly beneath ink-covered skin every time he adjusted his hold. Occasionally, a muscle in his jaw twitched, but he never took his whiskey eyes from the road, even when Val searched for his gaze in the rearview mirror.

Was he truly so angry that she'd gone to the training center without him?

She wanted to ask him. Wanted to demand that he look at her and actually communicate like a grown man, but she didn't trust her words. At least, not with Luca in the car.

So, Val waited.

And yet, when they pulled up to the mansion, Matteo slid out of the driver's seat and immediately headed for the front door. Val hadn't even unbuckled. She stared after him, lips parted in disbelief.

Luca rounded the car and opened the back door for her, glancing over his own shoulder at Matteo's retreating figure. He released a low whistle. "Fuck, do you think he's gonna have me offed for this?"

"Believe me," Val huffed, unfastening her seatbelt, "If he's gonna use one of us for target practice, it's me."

She hopped out of the car, and Luca slammed the door behind her. They walked side by side toward the front door, a united front against the man who'd entered before them.

"Aren't you more worried about facing Adriano?" Luca murmured, keeping his voice low as they approached the mansion. "You humiliated him in front of his men..."

Val pressed her lips into a thin line as guilt and triumph waged war within her. Perhaps she'd been too harsh on her uncle, but she wouldn't apologize for it. An apology insinuated that she did something wrong and regretted it, but she regretted nothing.

She'd seen the way the soldiers watched her after her heated conversation with Adriano. For the first time, they seemed to respect her. If she wanted any shot at ruling the Romano famiglia one day, she'd need that respect– their support and devotion. She needed the soldati to realize that she did not view them as expendable, but as equals.

Val shrugged, taking the steps to the front door two at a time. "I'm not worried about anything. What can my uncle do to me, really? The only person that holds any power over me is my –"