Chapter 10 – Blood Lessons
Valentina Cruz
"Grip the handle like it's the only thing keeping you alive."
Rafael's voice was calm. Instructive. Like he was teaching a cooking class instead of how to slice a man open.
I stared at the knife in my hand. Same one Mauro left behind. Same one that now had my fingerprints on it.
I wanted to throw it across the room. Maybe at Rafael's face.
Instead, I curled my fingers tighter.
"Good," he said. "Now—stab me."
I blinked. "What?"
"Stab me."
"Are you insane?"
He shrugged. "Probably. But if you don't learn to fight back, you'll end up dead. Or worse — used."
"Used like… a pawn?"
His expression tightened. Gotcha.
He stepped forward. "Go ahead. Right here." He tapped his stomach. "I won't move."
"You won't have to," I muttered. "I've never stabbed anyone before."
He smirked. "That's the point of practice, baby."
I lunged.
He caught my wrist mid-air, spun me around, and the next second I was on the floor.
Breathless.
Annoyed.
Slightly turned on.
⸻
"Again," he said.
"No."
"Valentina—"
"I said no."
I stood up, brushing dust from my knees. "I'm not doing this until you tell me everything."
He paused. "Everything?"
"Yes. Your past. Mauro. Why the mafia wants your blood. And why—despite having the emotional range of a houseplant—you keep looking at me like I'm something you lost."
Silence.
He turned away.
I grabbed his arm. "I'm not a toy. I'm not your prisoner anymore. I'm your wife, remember?"
His eyes snapped to mine. "You don't get to say that like it means something."
"Well maybe it should."
The air sizzled between us. If tension could kill, we'd both be ashes.
Finally, he said, "Mauro was once my best friend. Then he betrayed me. Got my sister killed. Took a piece of our territory. And now he's back to remind me that nothing I build will ever last if he wants to destroy it."
"And me?"
"You," he said quietly, "are the one thing I didn't plan for."
⸻
Later that night, he took me to the underground training room.
Weapons lined the walls. Not just knives — guns, ropes, fake IDs, ledgers full of names crossed out in red ink.
I stared.
"I wasn't supposed to see this, was I?"
"No," he said. "But if you're going to survive me, you might as well understand what I am."
"And what's that?"
He walked up behind me. Pressed his hand to the base of my spine.
"The devil they call when angels fail."
⸻
Lesson One: Knives don't kill people. Cowards do.
Lesson Two: Always smile before you shoot. It confuses them.
Lesson Three: Never trust someone who calls you family in this world. They're the first ones to put a bullet in your back.
⸻
I trained until my arms shook.
Until my palms blistered.
Until Rafael said, "Enough."
We were both sweating. Breathing heavy. Eyes locked.
He stepped close. "You're a fast learner."
I smirked. "Told you I wasn't just a pretty face."
Then, without thinking, I added, "When do I get to stab someone for real?"
Rafael stared at me.
And for the first time in days… he laughed.
Not a cruel laugh. Not the dry smirk he gave enemies.
A real, deep laugh.
Then he said:
"When you stop asking permission."