The Hitman's Mark

Prologue

"Boss! Get down. Give me Sofia," Matteo shouted, tugging the woman's limp body away from her husband. Sofia was already dead. Now, he needed to protect Leonardo from a similar fate.

"No!" Leonardo growled, half-feral. His grip on his wife's body didn't falter. "Protect Valentina!"

Matteo blinked. He'd forgotten about the girl.

He cursed, his neck snapping back and forth as he searched for Valentina amongst the chaos. He found her by the sparkling gold of her dress, crumpled on the cobblestone amidst the still-wrapped birthday gifts. She kneeled, unmoving, even as men and women nearly trampled her in their pursuit of safety. Wide hazel eyes stared, unblinking, at the carnage, unaware that blood splatter covered her as well. Her mother's blood.

Matteo glanced back at Leonardo Romano, who'd fallen to his knees and now cradled Sofia's body in his arms. Tears coated the mafia boss' cheeks. The sight unnerved Matteo more than it should have. He didn't think the Hollowman was capable of crying.

Matteo needed to secure the boss—ensure their leader's safety above all else, even if it meant forsaking the daughter. At that moment, Leonardo's eyes snapped up and snagged on Matteo, who'd just taken the first step toward his boss.

"COSTA!" Leonardo roared Matteo's last name, as if he knew that he'd been about to abandon Valentina. "Now!"

Matteo froze. He held the don's tear-filled gaze for one long moment before nodding once, a subtle dip of his chin. Obeying his leader's command, he dove toward the gifts. Toward Valentina.

"Principessa." The unaffectionate nickname slipped off his tongue before Matteo could stop it as he stooped to her level. "We need to go. Now."

"My m-mamma?" Valentina whispered, silent tears mingling with the crimson splatter on her cheeks. She didn't spare Matteo a glance, never ripping her shell-shocked eyes from her mother and father. She slowly shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. "No... No, mamma!"

At last, she moved, crawling on her hands and knees to reach her family. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks now.

"No, Valentina," Matteo instructed, wrapping a hand around her biceps and holding her back from her father and dead mother. She struggled against his grip, desperate to break free and reach her family. He held her tighter, growling between clamped teeth, "Valentina! Listen to me."

More gunshots cracked across the clearing, and Valentina froze. Matteo instinctively pushed her closer to the cobblestone, draping his arms around her to shield her body with his own. Either the Romano guards had found the hitman, or the hitman had shot into the crowd again. Regardless, Matteo needed to get the principessa to safety.

The gunshots faded, and the shouting resumed. Matteo peeled away from Valentina. His hands desperately landed on her cheeks, forcing her to hold his gaze despite the chaos unfolding around them.

"Valentina, look at me," he demanded. When her wild, terrified eyes attempted to find her parents again, his palms pressed more firmly into her jawline, unrelenting. "Look at me. I need you to hold on to me. Tight. Can you do that?"

Despite the trauma unfolding around them, she held his gaze for one long moment before nodding. He saw something like determination in her hazel eyes.

Good, she'd need that in the coming days.

Without wasting another second, Matteo pulled Valentina into his arms, one arm scooping beneath her knees and the other bracing her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and curled the rest of her body into a tight ball against his chest. Her arms tightened like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. He held her just as tight and stood from the ruin of trampled, unopened gifts.

She didn't weigh much, having inherited her mother's slight frame, which allowed Matteo to remain half-crouched to keep her shielded from any gunfire.

Two more pops echoed through the courtyard from behind the treeline, and Matteo sprinted toward the mansion. He didn't stop—didn't look up—until they burst through the heavy mahogany doors and the scent of cigarette smoke and leather surrounded them. Even then, he didn't put Valentina down, She didn't release him, either.

Matteo gasped for breath, a hand absently stroking Valentina's blonde locks, too-aware of the warm, sticky blood that coated one side of her head.

He'd seen his fair-share of death and blood in his lifetime, but never at an innocent's birthday party. Never a mother's blood splattered against her daughter's golden birthday gown.

"Valentina?" he rasped after several moments. Voices still clamored outside, but the mansion doors muted the chaos.

She didn't answer. Her shoulders simply shook with every sob that escaped her lips, her head buried in the crook of his neck. She continued to clutch at him like a lifeline. He didn't put her down. He wouldn't abandon her now.

They remained like that until Alfonso rushed through the doors to inform them they'd located and killed the sniper. The Romano guards neutralized the threat, and the don survived. Sofia was the only casualty.

Valentina stayed in Matteo's arms throughout it all. Even when he tried to set her on her own two feet, she tightened her hold around his neck.

He didn't mind. So long as she stayed by his side, her face hidden against his chest, he could protect her from the gruesome scene in the courtyard, where her father still cradled Sofia's body.

He lost track of how much time passed before Leonardo peeled his body away from his dead wife, stood on stiff legs, and finally came to retrieve his daughter. Only the promise of her father's embrace prompted Valentina to release her hold on Matteo's neck.

He gently set her down, and she didn't look back at him once as she raced to her father's embrace. Leonardo, however, did look back.

The boss wrapped his arms around the young woman and clasped her tight against his chest. His swollen eyes were vacant as they held Matteo's gaze and mouthed: "Thank you."

Matteo nodded once, then quickly looked away.

He couldn't hold Leonardo's gaze. Not when he didn't deserve the boss' gratitude. Not when he'd been prepared to abandon Valentina in the courtyard to save her father.

Shame clogged his throat, and he turned to retreat before anyone could witness the turmoil racking through his body.

Protect Valentina. A simple command, but one that Matteo had nearly been fool enough to ignore.

Thank God he hadn't.

Protect Valentina, he repeated, cementing the command to memory. Tattooing the order over his heart like an unbreakable promise. And swearing to fulfill that duty until his last breath.