Chapter 23 – Uncrowned
Valentina Cruz
They say near-death changes you.
What they don't say is that almost losing someone might wreck you worse.
I didn't cry when Rafael held me.
Didn't collapse or scream.
I held on to him like he was both the trigger and the safety. And maybe he was.
But I knew the truth: Luca wouldn't stop.
Not until one of them was dead.
And if Rafael thought he could keep me tucked away during the war…
He clearly hadn't learned a damn thing.
⸻
"Absolutely not," he said, twenty minutes later, standing like some granite god at the edge of our bed.
"You don't even know what I was going to say," I replied, toweling blood from my face like it was an ordinary Tuesday.
"You want to be part of the hit. It's not happening."
"I've held a gun, Rafael."
He crossed his arms. "You've also been kidnapped. Twice."
"Only once, technically."
He glared. I grinned. A small, battle-worn smile.
But I didn't back down.
"You trained me," I said, stepping closer. "You made sure I knew how to shoot, fight, read people. Was that all for nothing?"
"It was for protection. Not war."
"And this isn't war?"
He stayed silent.
So I pressed on. "You think I'm going to sit on some velvet couch while you risk your life for me? That's not love. That's cowardice."
His nostrils flared.
Good.
I wasn't asking permission.
I was telling him: I'm all in.
⸻
Later, in the strategy room, Cruz laid out the map of Luca's last stronghold: an old Roman villa in the hills. Isolated. Guarded. Surrounded by thick forest.
"Booby traps?" I asked.
"Probably."
"Snipers?"
"Definitely."
Rafael studied the layout in silence, eyes like stone. Then he spoke.
"Luca's expecting a king."
Cruz nodded. "So?"
A muscle jumped in Rafael's jaw.
"Let's send him the queen."
⸻
The next day was our quiet before the storm.
Rafael and I didn't talk about what came after.
We didn't whisper promises we couldn't keep.
Instead, we sat on the balcony in silence, his fingers twined with mine, my head on his shoulder.
The city glittered below us.
"I used to think love was weakness," he said softly.
"And now?"
He turned to look at me — those midnight eyes finally stripped of cruelty and calculation.
"Now I know it's war."
I leaned in and kissed him slow.
For luck.
For love.
For tomorrow.