VALENTINE
The living room looked like a crime scene.
Blood smeared across the marble tiles. Keira lay sprawled on the couch, half-conscious, her breathing shallow. Killian hovered over her, hands steady as he stitched her wound with the eerie calm of someone far too familiar with violence.
I stood frozen at the doorway, barefoot, my hair wild, heart in my throat.
"What the hell is going on?" I whispered. Then louder, "What the actual fuck, Killian?"
He didn't look up. "She's fine."
"She's bleeding out in my living room. That doesn't scream fine."
"I got here in time."
I stepped closer, fists clenched. "Why were you even here? How did you know where she was? And how do you know she's not dying?"
This time, he looked up—and his eyes made my blood run cold.
"You don't know anything, do you?"
"Then tell me," I snapped.
Silence. Then he rose, shirt stained crimson, eyes stormy.
"I knew she was in trouble," he said. "Because she does reckless shit like torturing a Russian in a goddamn warehouse without backup."
My stomach turned. "What?"
"She thought the Yakuza wouldn't recognize her. One did. Followed her. Attacked. She barely made it out."
I stared at Keira, pale and bloodied.
"She didn't tell me," I whispered.
"She wouldn't," he said. "She doesn't want anyone to know what she really is."
"And you do? How?"
"I know her real name. Keira Armanetti. The Outfit's blood princess. The reason New York and Chicago nearly burned three years ago."
The air drained from my lungs.
"How do you know that?"
Killian looked like the weight of the past had finally caved his spine.
"I've been watching her for years. I was in love with her before I ever met her. I saw her photo in one of my father's black files—she was fifteen, covered in blood, laughing over a burning estate."
He let out a bitter laugh. "She ruined me."
"And you went to Chicago?"
"I lied about needing to speak to the Capos. I just wanted to see her. One night… she let me. She didn't know who I was. Or maybe she did. Maybe she didn't care."
"And your father?"
"Older Voss threatened war if I didn't stay away. She's forbidden. If anyone found out we spent the night together—it wouldn't just be a scandal. It'd be a bloodbath."
I steadied myself on the back of a chair. "Does she know you're still in love with her?"
He didn't blink. "She knows enough."
Silence.
Then I asked, "What happens now?"
Killian gently draped his jacket over Keira.
"Now? We pray the Outfit doesn't find out."
"And if they do?"
His voice dropped to ice.
"Then I'll burn the fucking world before I let them take her from me again."
Later That Night
The guest room was dim. I sat by Keira's bed, watching her breathe.
She stirred.
"Val…" she rasped.
"I'm here. You're safe."
"Did they follow me?"
"No. Killian got to you in time."
Her eyes flickered. "Shit… how bad?"
"Bad. He stitched you up."
Her face twisted in pain—not from the wound, but something deeper. "Did he tell you?"
I hesitated. "He told me enough. That you went after a Russian. That you did it for information—about the fire."
Her jaw clenched. "I owed you."
The door creaked. Killian stepped in—and froze when he saw her awake.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, his voice strained. "You're awake."
"You shouldn't be here," Keira murmured.
"I don't care."
She tried to sit up. He steadied her—his hand on her back like it belonged there.
"I didn't ask for this," she said.
"No. But you knew I'd come anyway."
"I thought I could handle it alone."
"You almost died. Don't you get it? I've already lost you once. I won't do it again."
"You don't get to say that. You knew what would happen if your father found out."
"I'd do it all again. That night in Chicago—I relive it. I remember your voice. Your skin. The way you fell asleep in my arms like you weren't the most dangerous creature I'd ever touched."
Keira's eyes flared with grief and fury. "You ruined everything."
"I loved you," he said. "And if that ruins things, then so be it."
She said nothing.
He leaned in, whispering, "You still wear the ring."
Her eyes flinched.
I followed his gaze—to the thin silver band on a chain around her neck.
Killian stood. His voice was cold again.
"Rest, Armanetti. I'll be back when it's safe."
He left.
Keira leaned back, trembling.
I didn't say a word.
Because I knew—if I did—she'd finally break.