The Hitman's Mark

29. Safe

"I-Is everything okay?" she murmured, her voice hoarse from her screams and cries during her fight against Francesco.

"Everything's fine, principessa," Matteo promised, reaching across the center console to wrap her left hand within his own. He squeezed twice. "You don't need to worry about anything. I'm taking you home and Lara is heading back, too. She'll take good care of you."

Val nodded, her swollen cheek twitching as she attempted a frown. "Is my father going to kill Francesco?"

"No," he murmured, releasing Val's delicate fingers to veer onto Exit 22. He returned his gaze to the road, if only to spare her from the bloodlust that undoubtedly gleamed in it. "I am."

***

VALENTINA

I am. Matteo's words washed over Val for the rest of their drive home.

A sinister promise. An enthralling threat. She should've been frightened by it, but nothing about Matteo frightened her. Perhaps that made her a bigger fool than she feared.

As time passed, the stinging and aching of Val's various injuries increased. When it came time to get out of the car, she almost whimpered and begged to stay put, if only to refrain from shifting and causing more discomfort. However, Matteo bent low to scoop her up in his arms again, and Val bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as the entire right side of her body screamed. Fresh blood flooded her mouth.

She held onto his neck with her left arm as he carried her to her bedroom, the door swinging open and closed with the force of his push, and placed her on the edge of her bed. Val flinched, but she'd run out of tears to shed from pain. She just wished she'd go numb again.

"I know you probably want to shower and change, but Lara should probably help you bathe," Matteo murmured, taking a seat on the bed beside her. The mattress sank under his weight. "Can I get you anything?"

Val shook her head, her neck surprisingly stiff. "Just stay with me?"

Something like devastating guilt scrawled across his features, and he didn't seem to bother concealing it. He nodded, a subtle dip of his chin, and brushed a piece of her ruined updo behind her ear. "Always."

"Thank you," she whispered. Despite her aching body, Val scooted an inch closer to the hitman on the mattress, pressing the side of her body against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder, all too aware of how he stiffened at the contact. They were in her bedroom, after all, but Val couldn't care for the boundaries or the protection of her virtue. Not at that moment.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Matteo asked after a long beat of silence. "All of it?"

His question held a lethal, dark undertone. Like he wanted to know exactly what Franscesco had done to Val before facing the younger man. Like he wanted to know just how much pain to inflict before ending his life.

Val should've said no. She should've told him that she didn't want him to torture a man for her sake. She wasn't sure that she wanted that sort of blood on her consciousness. But the cold, vengeful part of herself – the part that had surged to the surface and helped her escape Franscesco's evil plans - wanted him to suffer. Finally, she nodded.

"I- I needed fresh air," she began, remembering the suffocating jealousy that had driven her to run from the ballroom in the first place. "He followed me to the balcony and said I shouldn't have run off without my guards."

She risked a quick glance up at Matteo, but he'd schooled his features into a cold, passive mask and stared straight ahead. Val swallowed and continued. "He doesn't like Ezra. Doesn't think I should marry an outsider. He said it's a waste of my pure blood..."