Chapter 29

The commotion coming from downstairs has me actually leaving the bedroom I’ve been holed up in for the past two days. I asked my dad to take me home, and he said he would… after he works out a few things here. What business he could possibly have in Vancouver, I have no idea. But I’m smart enough not to ask him questions. It’s not like he’d tell me anyway. He’s always vague about what he actually does, and now that he’s the Don, well, he’s even more tight-lipped than before.

I stop in my tracks when I find all of my uncles, along with my cousins Dante and Orlando, positioned around the living room.

“What are you all doing here?” I ask my uncles before pointing to my cousins. “And shouldn’t you two be in school?”

Dante shrugs. “He should be. I don’t need to be there. It’s not like those teachers can actually teach me anything I don’t already know,” he says with an arrogant smirk on his face. The kid is a genius. There’s no denying that, but sometimes I think his ego needs to be knocked down a peg or two.

“Where’s Josie?” I ask. He’s never too far from his girlfriend, who’s also my newly adopted sister.

Dante sends my father a look that tells me he’s none too happy to be without her. “At home.”

“You mean you left her? In New York? All by herself? Shit, Dante, didn’t she tell you about the two guys currently vying for her attention at school?” I raise a hand to my chest with feigned concern.

Dante scoffs. “As if anyone would dare to even try to talk to her.”

I shake my head as a smirk curls my lips. “Sisters gossip about boys, you know. She tells me things she’d never tell you.” It’s a lie. I’m totally trying to get under his skin, and judging by the scowl on his face, it’s working.

Dante storms out of the living room while tapping on his phone. I watch him go before turning my focus on Orlando.

“You ain’t got shit on me, coz.” He laughs and spreads himself out wider on the sofa.

“Why are you all here? What’s going on?”

“Can’t I just come to see my favorite niece?” Zia Matteo asks, walking over and pulling me into a hug.

“You can, but Tilly isn’t here.” I laugh.

“Ouch, Liliana, you wound me. You know you’re my favorite little heir,” he says. My uncles like to call all of us kids their little heirs.

“Sure I am. But don’t try to get out of answering my question. What’s going on?” I repeat more forcefully this time. Like I said before, I’m not fucking stupid, and the fact that everyone has gathered in one place tells me something big is happening.

“Well, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but your little boyfriend got shot, Lil. We’re here to find out who did it,” Zia Romeo chimes in, and a sharp pain tears through my chest. Like my heart is physically breaking in two.

I bring up a hand and rub the spot, but it does nothing to dull the ache. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?” Zia Luca lifts a challenging brow while gesturing to the other side of the room, where there are dozens and dozens of floral arrangements sprawled out on every surface.

I walk over and pull out a card from the closest one.

This lifetime and into the next, I’ll be waiting for you. I love you.

—Travis

My hand shakes as I set the card down. Then I take in a lungful of air, trying to calm my racked nerves. “It doesn’t matter. When you find out who shot him, I want to know.” I look directly at my father, and something flashes in his eyes.

“I’ll let you know after we’ve dealt with them,” he says.

“Before would be preferred.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“That’s not fucking happening, Liliana. You are not touching this,” he growls. My father has always been insistent that I don’t follow the rest of them down that path. That I not venture into the criminal underworld side of the business.

Right now, though, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do than show them all what I’m made of. I am a Valentino after all, and someone just tried to take out the person I love. I’ve sat around and cried about it for long enough. I’ll let them find the guy, but I’m determined to be the one to show that person what happens when you cross us. Or at least be in the room when it happens. I might not be able to pull that trigger when it comes down to it, but I can watch. Of that much, I’m certain.

I walk out of the room without another word. There is no point arguing about it now. I’ll wait until after they’ve found the guy.

The day has dragged by. Travis has messaged me a million times. So has Gray, who was kind enough to send me a photo of Travis sitting on the bench during their morning skate. He looked awful. Even from the blurry photo, I could see how much he was hurting. His eyes were lacking their usual spark, his posture deflated. But his heart is still beating. That’s what I need to keep reminding myself.

The pain I’m causing both of us isn’t for nothing. It has a purpose. That knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to keep ignoring his messages, though. With each new one that pops up, I feel myself closer to breaking the silence and calling him, telling him to come and get me. Take me home.

The hushed voices flittering from the kitchen have me stopping and pressing myself against the wall before I walk in. I recognize one of the men as Grayson’s father, Jacob Monroe. The guy runs the criminal underground in Vancouver—actually in all of Canada. He’s also the owner of the Knights, Travis’s dream team.

“I need to find out who did this. Someone has a hard-on for my daughter, Jacob, and I won’t leave without their heads in a fucking bag,” my father growls.

My brows furrow. What is he talking about?

“I know, and we will find them. But until that happens, you can’t just go around burning my city to the fucking ground,” Mr. Monroe says.

“And who’s going to stop me? You?” Dad laughs.

“I’m not your enemy here, Valentino. All we know is that whoever shot Travis mentioned something about it being for Liliana. We have nothing else to go on. The kid’s got no description, and the CCTV was cut for a whole hour. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing. We need to figure out the why, and maybe that’ll lead us to the who.”

My hand comes up to cover my mouth. Travis was shot because of me. I called it. It’s the reason I have to push him away. It’s the reason I can’t be weak and cave to my need to be with him. But if it wasn’t my father who ordered the hit, then who the hell was it?