The Hitman's Mark

23. The Hitman's Heart

VALENTINA

"Matteo!" Val gasped, tears pricking the surface of her eyes. "Y-Your heart..."

He groaned and peeled his heavy body off of hers, taking a seat on the glass and debris-covered floor. Blood seeped from a wound just above his heart. So much blood. Val hadn't seen that much blood since...

Terror gripped her by the throat, and she struggled to draw air into her lungs. Scrambling to her hands and knees, Val crawled to Matteo's side. Her vision blurred with an onslaught of tears, but she could still see the blood staining his shirt an impossibly darker shade of black. He clutched at the crimson stain, and it oozed through the cracks between his fingers.

He was bleeding out. He was going to die. He was going to leave her–

"Not my heart, princess," he murmured, his voice ragged and laced with pain. But also filled with affection– tenderness and affection. "Just my shoulder. Harmless."

"O-Oh," Val practically sobbed the word, tasting salt on her lips. Relief poured into her entire body, even as she shook her head, not entirely convinced. "But you're bleeding. There's s-so much blood..."

"I know," he comforted, extending his blood covered hand like he wanted to brush a tear from her cheeks, but he paused before making contact. "But I'm going to be alright, Val. Okay?"

Still shell-shocked, Val didn't fully comprehend his words. She only knew that she wanted his touch, even though blood coated his fingers. She leaned forward, capturing his extended hand and holding it tight against her cheek, melting into his comfort. Her eyes fluttered closed, just for a moment.

Of course, she should've been the one comforting him. He'd just taken a bullet to the shoulder for her, after all. But, as soon as the gunshots started and chaos descended over the boutique, Val lost her courage. She'd been transported to another time – another battleground. To the day that she'd lost the most important person in her life.

And, when the gunfire ended and Val opened her eyes to see her hitman, injured and bleeding... She thought it was happening all over again.

"Val?" Matteo prompted, firmer this time. He traced her cheekbone, urging her eyes to open. "Breathe, sweetheart."

Val opened her eyes at that, only to find him already staring at her intently. She took a shaky breath, then another. With each inhale, the panic subsided, and reality settled in. Matteo was here. He was alive.

But he wouldn't stay that way if Val didn't slow the bleeding.

At last, she lurched into action, shrugging off her cardigan and wadding the fabric into a compact pad to press against Matteo's wound. He hissed at the sudden pressure, but Val only pressed harder.

"W-we need to hold pressure," she explained, studying the little hole blasted just above his heart. A quick look at his bleeding back confirmed that the bullet penetrated his shoulder blade first, then miraculously traveled through flesh and bone to exit through the front. "At least until the paramedics get here."

"No," Matteo ground out, placing his hand over Val's. "No paramedics. We need to get out of here, before the Bratva returns."

The Bratva? Had Belyaev ordered the hit? Matteo once warned her that the Russian mobster would stop at nothing to get revenge on Val for ruining his trafficking ploy. But how could Belyaev know that Val was shopping at A&C Couture? Unless...

Val's eyes flashed toward the back of the boutique, where Annika and Inessa disappeared moments before the shooting. Where they still had not reemerged to check on their bullet-ridden store. The old woman's betrayal felt like a punch to the gut.