Chapter Three: The Trap
873 Words
Valentina's fingers tightened around the handle of her gun.
Dante Romano sat across from her, serene, untroubled, and completely not surprised to see her. The golden glow of the desk lamp cast sharp shadows on his face, highlighting the harsh angles of his jaw and the unsettling stillness of his black eyes.
He had been waiting for her.
All of her muscles tensed. The air was heavy in the study with something unsaid, a gradual build of tension that curled tighter by the second.
For the first time in years, Valentina felt something foreign creep through her veins.
Doubt.
Her strategy had been flawless. All the guards covered. The cameras disabled. The sensors circumvented. And yet—
She'd marched right into his hands.
Dante c****d his head to one side, studying her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"You're late."
The statement was said in a casual way, as if almost lazily, as if it were just a bother to him.
Valentina didn't respond. Words were a distraction. A temporary lapse in focus. And she couldn't risk that now.
Her eyes flashed around the room, taking stock. The study was large, but too small to give her a clear path of escape. A bookcase covered the back wall, topped high with leather books. Thick drapes fell over a massive window, which overlooked the Romano estate. The only entrance—the only exit—was the door she had just used.
A door that had just slammed shut behind her with a click only just audible.
Damn.
"You don't say much, do you?" Dante stood up from his chair. He walked slowly, as if on purpose. He was testing her, gauging her reaction.
Valentina didn't blink. She shifted her weight, balancing herself. She could finish this right now. A single bullet. One perfect shot. That was all she needed.
Her finger stroked the trigger.
Dante grinned.
"You won't do it."
Her blood ran cold.
He was bluffing.
He moved in closer, and in that moment, Valentina made her decision.
Strike first.
She flashed like a lightning bolt, c*****g the gun up in one continuous motion—
CRACK.
A flash of movement. A flash of black.
Agony flashed through her wrist as her gun was yanked from her grasp. The ringing of metal off the wooden floor reverberated in her head.
Dante stepped in between them in the snap of a finger. Faster than she had anticipated.
She hardly had time to react before he attacked her again.
Valentina sidestepped, turning around as his punch went through where her head would have been an instant before. She retaliated swiftly, booting him squarely in the ribcage.
Dante gave ground, but his smile didn't waver.
"You're good," he admitted, shaking out his hand. "But I knew that already."
Valentina didn't say anything. She was already in motion.
She leapt at him, striking for his neck—
But Dante was ready.
He caught her wrist out of the attack, pulling her arm around her back in a hard lock. She growled, struggling to escape, but his grip was not to be broken.
"Enough." His voice was low, hard, tinged with something dangerous.
She would not release. She spun with a hard turn, twisting her body so sharply that she knocked her elbow into his side. His grip loosened just enough for her to break free.
She did not hesitate. She spun, aiming for another blow at his jaw—
But she never got to land the punch. She felt the chill slide of metal against her throat.
Dante was holding her knife.
She had not even seen him take it.
Valentina froze, her breath in short, shallow gasps. The blade rested just below her jaw, a deadly quiet threat.
She was truly trapped for the first time that night.
Dante leaned in close, his words a whisper against her ear.
"You should have done it when you came in," he whispered. "Now you can't."
She looked up at him, her heart pounding against the blade at her throat.
"Go on," she challenged. "Do it."
Dante's eyes blazed with something unreadable.
Then, slowly, he stepped back. The knife disappeared as quickly as it materialized.
"I have a better idea."
Before Valentina could answer, the door behind her opened.
Two men came in, their faces hidden, their guns at the ready.
She coiled.
Dante turned from her, walking back toward his desk with his characteristic ease. As if what had just transpired was merely some other part of his night.
He poured himself a glass, stirring the golden liquid in it before he said anything else.
"You work for me now, Valentina."
Her blood locked up.
She scowled. "That's not how this goes."
Dante sipped his drink, his smirk resurfacing. "It is tonight."
The masked men edged closer, their intentions clear.
Valentina's hands were shaking at her sides. She could take them. She could fight her way out of this place.
But Dante.
Dante had set this up. He had been waiting for her.
And that meant he recognized her.
Something in her gut twisted.
For the first time in her life, the hunter had become the hunted.
And the hunt had only just begun.
- Writer
