Brooklyn:
After being forced to spend one summer in Italy with her grandma, Brooklyn always found her way back to the cobblestone streets but not for the feeling of a summer never ending, but for Valentino, a boy who radiates trouble and sees throu...
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POV: Brooklyn "Sometimes late at night our memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheek." - Aliza Grace Summer #3
I woke up with a familiar feeling: disappointment.
When I outstretched my arm to Valentino's side of the bed to be met with cold sheets, all of my enthusiasm faded. We didn't get home until 2 a.m., but to me, the night still felt young. I wanted to ride around some more, but Val suggested that we'd always have time tomorrow, so I agreed, but now I'm suspicious.
It's currently 4:32 a.m., and I'm standing outside the window looking for his car. I've already called and texted him, but I might as well be talking to a ghost. At first, I was angry that he left without a word, but now I'm worried. Valentino would've at least texted me, telling me he'd be home later.
A sick feeling filled my mouth with bitterness. I've seen this before, but that time I was at the other end of the stick. I was the one who left without saying a word and didn't answer my phone. Maybe he's getting his revenge, showing me how much it hurt him.
The thought is ridiculous, and I dismiss it immediately.
Sighing, I left the window and headed back to the bed. Even with three covers wrapped around me, it isn't as warm as Valentino's presence. My mind races with possible places Val could be, but I try to ignore it. Valentino is a Don for God's sake and a new one to top that.
There will be times when he'll have to leave in the middle of the night. For some sick reason, that seems to relax me back into sleep. The dent he created in the bed is the last thing I see before I shut my eyes and slowly drift to sleep.
Pop.
The sound bounces off the walls of the empty mansion with ease and causes my eyelids to open. It's unfamiliar, but my spine tightens at the sound anyway. That sound isn't supposed to be there. Valentino's cleaners don't come until 7:30.
Getting out of bed as quietly as I can, I tiptoe back to the window on the far left side of Valentino's room and slowly pull back the gray curtain. My heart pounds so hard that I can barely hear, but a breath of relief leaves my lips when I see Valentino's black Porsche sitting diagonally in the driveway.
"Thank God," I rest a hand on my chest to calm my unrelenting heart, but it refuses to stop. As I'm about to close the curtain and head downstairs, I spot something out of the corner of my eye near the gate. Intrigued, I inch closer to the glass until my body presses against it and I squint. My hand flies to my mouth to cover the horrified gasp that leaves it.
There's a body.
lying face-down on the pavement.
Unmoving.
Bleeding.
Pop.
The sound resonates again. This time closer. My blood turns cold. Valentino wouldn't just kill one of his men. Or not announce himself when he gets home. The person in this house isn't Valentino.
I force my body to move despite the tears welling in my eyes. I turn the bathroom light and shower on to make it look like I'm in there, and I grab the gun Val keeps under his pillow.
There's no point in pretending that someone isn't here. My clothes are scattered all over the room, and there is no time to clean them up. I slide into Valentino's side of the closet to blend and crouch.
His gun feels heavy in his hand, and to be honest, I don't know what to do with it. I can only hope that, when the time comes, it helps. My phone sits uncomfortably in my sweatpants pockets, so I pull it out to text a SOS to Valentino.
We never agreed to an official system, but everyone knows that SOS means everything went to crap. Footsteps echo off the marble floors near the bedroom until they stop. I almost thought that the person had gone into another room before I heard the door being kicked off its hinges.
I jump but remain silent. Once the person heads into the bathroom, it'll give me time to try to think of something to do. Anything. As soon as they take a step into the room, it feels like the temperature drops to negative 8 degrees. Their cold presence strikes a new fear in me.
If they find me, it's over. There will be no escaping or hurting this monster. I hold my breath and hope that they head to the bathroom.
They don't head to the bathroom. Just stand in the middle of the room, letting the shower run. Saying I was confused would be an understatement, but soon after, I realized I had made a horrible mistake.
When my ringtone started to fill the dark closet, my heart dropped. It was loud. So loud that I know anyone in a room over could hear it. The footsteps started to get closer and closer. And the drumming in my heart started to get louder and louder.
It was not long until I saw the person's shoes at the doorway of the closet. I panicked. What I'm going to do is stupid, and I'll most likely regret it anyway, but you really only live once.
I shot at the figure.
Twice.
I was expecting their body to drop or at least a sound from the pain, but there was nothing.
Only more steps.
A strong grip wrapped itself around my forearm and pulled me down onto the floor. The gun went flying to the other side of the closet. I tried to reach for it, but I couldn't move an inch.
Resentment burned through my veins, and I dared to look into my captor's eyes.
Their dark blue eyes
"Dima?"
It's as if time stopped when I realized that Valentino's brother was the one behind this. Weirdly enough, I've always liked Dima. He was nice and respectful to me, at least, but there was always this energy around him. It pulled you in but pushed you away at the same time. Maddening, yet magnetic.
"I'm sorry, Brooklyn." His grip loosened a little, but that grip was still there. Before I could ask what he was sorry for, I felt a needle enter my neck, and my world started to go black.
The last thing I saw were his dark blue eyes, and that's when I realized he was the wolf in my dream.
