The scent of blood still gums to Valeria's skin long after she left the warehouse.
She puts her hands under the cold stream of water in Matteo's private bathroom, watching as the last remnants of red blood down the drain. But the feeling remained—the weight of what she had done, the silent shift in the balance of her world.
She had hurt someone today. By choice.
A week ago, she wouldn't have imagined herself in this position.
But that woman—the naïve, obedient wife, the helpless pawn in Luca's game—was gone.
And in her place stood someone she wasn't sure she recognized.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Come in," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The door swung open, and Matteo leaned against the frame, arms crossed. His dark eyes roamed over her, assessing.
"You hesitated." His voice was unreadable, neither approval nor disappointment lacing his words.
Valeria shut off the faucet and turned to face him. "And yet, he still bled."
Matteo smirked. "That he did." He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, sealing them in together. The room suddenly felt smaller, his presence larger than life.
She had spent enough time around men like him to know that he was testing her. Pushing to see how far he could go.
And she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of flinching.
"You're not like the women Luca surrounds himself with," he said, studying her with a look that felt like a scalpel, peeling back her layers.
"No," she agreed, her tone cool. "I never was."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Then Matteo took a slow step forward, closing the distance. Deliberate. Calculated.
"You're not ready to kill," he murmured, tilting his head. "But you didn't walk away, either."
Valeria held her ground. "I do what I have to."
"Do you?" He reached out, putting a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was too intimate, too knowing, and it sent a shiver down her spine—one she refused to let him see.
She met his eyes, refusing to look away. "I learned my lesson about trusting men in this world."
Matteo's lips twitched. "Good. That means I won't have to teach it to you."
The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken words, unreadable intentions.
Then, just as suddenly as he had invaded her space, he stepped back.
"Get dressed," he ordered, his voice returning to its usual coolness. "Training starts in an hour."
And with that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, Heart pounding, heart at war with itself.
One Hour Later
The underground training room was nothing like she expected.
It wasn't a lavish gym or some makeshift fight club.
It was a warzone.
Men fight in caged rings, fists colliding with sickening force. Blood smeared the mats. The smell of sweat and violence filled in the air like an unspoken challenge.
And in the center of it all stood Matteo, watching as his men tore each other apart.
When he spotted her, a smile played on his lips. "You're late."
Valeria folded her arms. "I didn't realize I was on your clock."
His eyes darkened with amusement. "You are now."
Before she could reply, he tossed something toward her. She caught it instinctively—a blade.
She frowned, feeling the weight of it. It was smaller than the one she had used earlier, but just as deadly.
"You're not strong enough to win a fight with brute force," Matteo said, circling her like a predator. "So you'll learn to use this instead."
She held up the knife, watching how the dim lights gleamed against its edge.
"And if I refuse?" she asked, testing him.
"Then you'll die the second Luca finds you."
The words sent a cold dagger through her chest.
Because she knew he wasn't exaggerating.
Luca wouldn't just kill her—he would make an example out of her.
And she refused to let him have that satisfaction.
So she curled her fingers around the handle and met Matteo's looks head-on.
"Show me."
The First Lesson
Matteo was ruthless.
Every move he taught her was designed to inflict pain, not just survive.
"There are no rules in a fight," he said, pressing close behind her, his breath warm against her ear. "No honor. No fairness. If you want to live, you aim for the throat, the eyes, the gut."
His hands covered hers as he guided the blade in a sharp, swift arc, demonstrating a fatal strike.
Valeria's fingers tightened around the handle. "And if they're stronger?"
Matteo's smile deepened. "Then you make them weaker."
Without warning, he twisted her wrist, forcing her to react. She barely had time to dodge as he struck again, disarming her with a flick of his fingers.
The knife clattered to the floor.
She hated the way frustration burned in her veins.
He was faster, stronger, smarter.
But she was angry.
And anger could be a weapon, too.
Matteo bent down to retrieve the knife, but before he could straighten, she struck.
Using his momentary distraction, she stepped forward, grabbing his wrist and twisting it just as he had done to her. He let out a low hum of approval, his grip loosening just enough for her to snatch the knife back.
She pressed the blade to his throat.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Matteo chuckled, low and dangerous.
"Not bad, princess."
Valeria breaths, realizing how close they were—how easily he could have overpowered her if he wanted to.
But he hadn't.
Because this was a test.
And she had passed.
The Warning
As the night wore on, the training continued.
Matteo pushed her to exhaustion, drilling every movement into her bones. By the time they finished, her body ached, but she felt something she hadn't in a long time.
Powerful.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead as Matteo studied her, his looks unreadable.
"You're better than I expected," he admitted. "But you still hesitate."
Valeria met his eyes. "And you still underestimate me."
Matteo's smirk deepened. "We'll see."
As he turned to leave, he paused at the door.
"Luca won't stop hunting you," he said over his shoulder. "The moment he finds out you're with me, he'll declare war."
Valeria swallowed hard.
"I know," she whispered.
Matteo turned slightly, just enough for her to catch the glint in his dark eyes.
"Then you better be ready."
And with that, he was gone.
Valeria sat down heavily on the bench, her heart pounding.
There was no turning back now.
If Luca wanted a war, he would get one.
But this time, she wouldn't be the one bleeding.