Her Ruthless Obsession

Chapter 3 – The Devil You Know

Dominic’s POV

There’s a saying in my line of work: If you stare at the devil long enough, he stares back.

Valentina Russo doesn’t just stare back—she smiles. That slow, lethal curve of her mouth when she thinks she has the upper hand. The first time I saw it, two weeks ago, she was naked in my bed, sweat slicking her skin like molten gold under city lights. That night wasn’t part of the plan. Hell, I didn’t have a plan beyond getting close enough to read her before I decided whether to end her.

Because make no mistake—that was my mission. Terminate or extract. That’s what the Agency drilled into me for ten years, before I burned my badge and walked into the dark. They call me a ghost for a reason: I go where the bodies fall, and I never leave prints.

But Valentina Russo?

She’s not a mission. She’s a goddamn problem.

I should’ve stayed gone after that night. Should’ve buried the taste of her between a bottle of scotch and another job in some hellhole where names don’t matter. But then I found out the truth—the thing that makes my stomach knot even now as I sit behind the wheel of a black Aston Martin, parked two blocks from her penthouse.

Luca Romano wants her dead.

Not because of territory. Not because of power. Because she has something neither of them should have—a ledger. Her father’s ledger. The one that ties half the politicians in this city to blood money and bodies they’d sell their souls to keep buried.

And somewhere in that mess of ink and blood… is the name I’ve been hunting for a decade.

The man who ordered the hit on my unit. Who turned my brothers into corpses and left me breathing so I could choke on survivor’s guilt.

Valentina Russo has the key to my vengeance.

That’s why I came back. That’s the only reason I came back.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

But the truth?

The truth feels a hell of a lot like obsession. Like the ghost of her laugh echoing in my head while I watched her hold that Glock tonight like she was born with steel in her hands. Like the memory of her body arching under mine, her nails clawing down my spine as if she wanted to peel the darkness off my bones.

Christ.

I drag a hand over my jaw, forcing the thought away, focusing on the glow of the city through the windshield. This isn’t about her. It can’t be.

It’s about Luca Romano. The bastard who thinks he can own her, break her, burn her empire to the ground.

He’s already moving pieces. I’ve seen the intel—arms shipments doubling, men disappearing from his clubs and showing up in warehouses with fresh ink on their skin. And Valentina? She’s still playing queen while the board’s catching fire.

She’s smart, ruthless, careful. But not careful enough.

Because even now, I can smell the blood in the water. And when sharks circle, they don’t stop until there’s nothing left but bones.

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. I could let her fall. Let Luca tear her apart. Step over her body and take what I need from the ashes. That would be clean. Efficient.

But the thought of her broken—her fire snuffed out—

No. I can’t stomach it.

Which makes me one thing I swore I’d never be: compromised.

A vibration cuts through the silence. My burner phone, screen lighting up with a name I’d rather forget.

Damien.

My brother.

Or what’s left of him.

I stare at the name for a long beat before I answer, because Damien Cross doesn’t call unless something’s bleeding.

“Talk.”

“You’re in deep,” his voice growls through static, low and sharp as a blade. “Word is you were seen walking into Russo territory.”

“Word travels fast,” I say, scanning the street for tails. Nothing. Not yet.

“What the hell are you doing, Dom? You know what she is.”

“I know exactly what she is,” I bite out, eyes narrowing on the lights of her penthouse. “And that’s why I’m here.”

A pause. Then, softer: “This isn’t just about the ledger, is it?”

I don’t answer. Silence is safer than lies.

Damien exhales, sharp and frustrated. “You’re gonna get burned.”

“Maybe,” I say, and kill the call.

Because here’s the thing about fire—you don’t survive it by running. You survive it by burning hotter.

And if I have to burn this whole city to keep her alive long enough to get what I need, then so be it.

I start the engine, sliding into traffic, already planning my next move. Tomorrow, I’ll reach out to my contacts, dig deeper into Luca’s play. But tonight?

Tonight, all I can think about is the look in Valentina’s eyes when I said her name. The way it sounded in her voice when she asked for mine.

Dominic.

A name I should’ve left in the dark.

Because now?

Now it belongs to her.