Chapter 187: I’m Going To Kill You
The club was alive.
Lights flashing.
Bodies moving.
Laughter and sin blending into one intoxicating atmosphere. But Marco didn’t see any of it. Didn’t hear it. Didn’t feel it.
All he saw...Was red.
By the ti he reached the changing room corridor, the music dulled slightly, replaced by chatter, heels clicking, the soft murmur of dancers preparing for the next set.
And there—was Ricardo standing too comfortably, too casually, talking, laughing.
Marco’s vision tunneled. "You fucking son of a bitch! I’m going to kill you!" His voice tore through the room before chaos erupted. Marco didn’t give Ricardo the luxury of understanding what was happening before it happened. His fist flew and connected.
A sickening crack echoed through the room as his knuckles slamd into Ricardo’s face, sending him stumbling backward. The force of it snapped his head to the side, blood spilling instantly from his nose.
The dancers scread, scattering, heels clattering against the floor as they fled the explosion of violence.
"Have you gone mad?!" Ricardo spat, staggering, hand flying to his face as he tried to regain his footing. Blood dripped through his fingers, staining his shirt.
Mad?
"You think this is madness? You have no idea what madness looks like."
Ricardo blinked, confusion flickering across his face despite the blood still dripping from his nose. "What are you—"
Marco shoved him backward.
Ricardo hit the wall behind him, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.
His fist pressed into Ricardo’s collar, bunching the fabric, holding him in place.
"...you better pray...fuck you better pray. Holy fucking Christ, you better pray."
Ricardo swallowed hard, his bravado faltering.
This kind of damage, Marco didn’t know how to fight it.
He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t punch it away. He couldn’t shoot it, threaten it, or bury it. Marco felt completely useless.
"You stay away from her, you hear ? If I sniff you around her ever again! I swear to God, I will put a bullet so far down your throat it will take five dical examiners to find it."
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Ricardo snapped.
"Stay the fuck away from her!" he finished. Marco turned and walked out of the changing room, his steps heavy, the adrenaline still burning hot in his veins. The noise of the club swallowed him again as he moved through it—music, laughter, bodies brushing past him.
By the ti he reached the garage, his anger still hadn’t cooled.
"Fuck!" he swore as he stopped beside his car. "Fuck!" he shouted again, louder this ti, kicking hard at the side of his tire.
Pain shot up his leg.
He welcod it. He yanked the car door open and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut behind him.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t need to read the ssage again. He already knew it.
Word for word. Burned into his mind.
Still, he opened it.
’I think I’m pregnant. My sister is going to kill .’
A consequence that couldn’t be undone with distance or silence. A connection that refused to be severed.
Marco’s fingers hovered over the steering wheel, tapping once, twice, restless energy with nowhere to go.
He should have seen this coming. Should have stopped it. Protected her better.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think.
Panicking wouldn’t help her.
Rage wouldn’t fix this.
He needed to move. To act. To be what she needed him to be.
Marco started the engine, the low rumble of the car vibrating beneath him. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he got there. Didn’t know if she was scared, crying. Didn’t know if she wanted comfort or solutions or just soone to sit with her in the quiet. But he knew one thing. He wasn’t going to let her go through this alone.
He glanced at the ssage one last ti before tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.
"Don’t worry, Val..." he muttered under his breath. "I’ve got you."
He told Luca.
God, he had told him.
Luca had thought he was doing the right thing. Doing right by Veronica. Keeping her sister happy. So he offered the bastard a job. Gave him proximity. Access. Trust. And now here they were.
A few minutes later, the car idled in front of the Scalese ho.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the storm inside him to settle—just enough. For her.
By the ti he stepped out of the car and made his way to the door, his face was composed. The anger was still there, coiled tightly in his chest, but buried.
He knocked. "Val... it’s ."
Silence answered him.
Marco turned the handle and stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
The house greeted him with stillness. No television. No music. No clatter of movent. Just a suffocating quiet that pressed in from all sides.
And then he saw her, curled up on the couch.
Valentina, who was usually all fire and laughter and stubborn energy, looked... diminished. Folded into herself. Her eyes were open, but unfocused, staring at nothing.
Marco paused.
This was not how she was supposed to look.
"Hey..." he said finally, slipping his hands into his pockets because if he didn’t, he might reach for her too quickly. Too intensely.
She blinked slowly. "Hey..." she replied.
Marco swallowed. "So..." he started, forcing a small, casual tone into his voice. "What do you need?"
It was the safest question.
The only one he trusted himself to ask.
"I need you to save
from my sister."
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he took a few steps closer. "Your sister loves you," he said gently. "It may shock her, but she loves you. You should have listened to
in the first place," he added. "When I told you to tell her you and Ricardo broke up."
"—if I tell her, she will tell Luca and Luca might take his job away. I don’t want to be the reason he loses his job. I don’t want that hanging around my neck. Rember he broke up with
to embrace his job more fully."
(Brought to you by Mrs B)
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