Chapter 24 – The Villa Burns
Rafael D'Amico
I wore black to war.
Not because it was tactical.
Because it was a funeral.
And I planned to bury my brother before dawn.
⸻
The drive to Luca's villa was silent.
Cruz sat beside me, checking weapons. Valentina sat in the back, her eyes sharp, hair tied up, sleeves rolled. My wife looked like vengeance wrapped in soft skin and stubborn will.
And I was in love with her.
Violently.
Irrevocably.
"You ready?" I asked, not looking back.
Her voice was steady. "Let's kill your past so we can have a future."
Damn.
If I survived this, I was going to build her a palace.
⸻
We split at the ridge.
Two teams.
Cruz and the others would flank the side wall.
Valentina and I? Straight through the front gate.
Because sometimes the boldest move is the one your enemy won't expect.
We scaled the outer fence, cut the lights, and were on the gravel path before the first alarm blared.
Then all hell broke loose.
⸻
Gunfire lit up the garden like a sick fireworks show.
I dropped two guards with clean headshots and shoved Valentina behind a stone lion statue.
"Stay down!" I shouted.
She popped back up, fired twice, and dropped another one. "You were saying?"
God, I loved her.
We ducked into the hallway, stepping over bodies. The villa was old — dusty wood, oil paintings, iron chandeliers.
Beautiful.
Until we turned it into a battleground.
⸻
Luca waited for us in the study.
Of course he did.
Standing like a ghost in front of our father's old desk. Same scarred wood. Same smell of old leather and spilled whiskey.
"You brought her?" he asked, amused. "How romantic."
"Put down the gun," I said.
He cocked his head. "Still trying to be the better brother?"
"No," I said. "I've stopped trying."
⸻
He raised his pistol.
I shot first.
But the bastard moved. Bullet grazed his arm — he returned fire, grazing my side.
Pain exploded through my ribs. I stumbled. Valentina screamed.
And then she stepped in front of me.
Valentina Cruz, five-foot-nothing, covered in bruises and fire, pointed her gun at Luca like she'd done it a thousand times.
"Drop it," she said.
He laughed. "You're bluffing."
"I'm broke, orphaned, and married to a monster. I have nothing to lose."
She fired.
Hit his leg.
He dropped.
I rose.
And ended it.
⸻
Two bullets.
One for the lies.
One for the blood.
Neither out of mercy.
⸻
When it was over, we stood in the smoking ruin of the villa.
Breathing.
Bleeding.
Free.
⸻
"You're hit," she whispered, tearing off a piece of her shirt to patch my side.
"So are you," I said.
She looked up at me, tears streaked with soot.
I cupped her face.
"No more running," I said.
"No more cages," she replied.
And then we kissed.
Not like lovers.
Like survivors.