Chapter 32 Tides of Revelation
Stefan's POV~
Rain lashed the streets of Seryne and my tires screeched as I drove into the neon-soaked night. Valenticia's cracked voice, describing a black S.U.V. swerving into her. As a result of her mindless pursuit of Clara, I had told her to wait at the estate, not knowing she would defile me. I thought about the image of her out there on her own hunted by Galden enforcer and the fear alone made me press the gas pedal a little harder. My Glock was against my ribs, a heavy chill, but it was Valenticia’s mention of Clara, her intention not to give her up, that kept the adrenaline coursing through me.
I drove into Pier 17, the dock stretching around a field of rusted shipping containers. I sighted her car next. Valenticia’s car was parked nearby, its door open, a shoe which was hers laid next to a container, its edge smeared with blood. My stomach knotted, panic rising, but there were faint footsteps in the wet gravel that led to Lot C. I tip-toed my way following the prints, my clothes soaked in the rain, my breath sharp. It wasn't hard to find her, hunched behind a splintered crate, her eyes trained on a padlocked container, her bandaged hand, with new blood seeping from a sharp wound. A sound breaks the silence as I listen to the radio. A scarred enforcer stepped out from the shadows. His radio oozed out with Natasha's voice, loud and commanding. “Secure the package. No mistakes.”
Instinct kicked in. Tackling him, I lunged, smashing my shoulder into his ribs, he took out his taser and I twisted it from him. “Valencia, run!” I screamed, forcing him back to the floor, my knee pressing into his chest. Her eyes locked with mine trust flashing in fear, and she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Not without Clara,” she snapped, her jaw clenched, that same stubbornness that had landed her here.
I nodded and indicated that she should stick close. The enforcer groaned, out cold, and I tied his hands and pulled him and his silenced radio behind a container. We made our way to another padlocked container, its chain freshly severed, as we tried to open it. Inside was dark, save for the embroidered scarf, wadded up in a corner with blood on the edge. Valenticia's gasped, her breathe stuck in her throat and her fingers trembled as she held it. Her eyes were black and filled with agony.
“She’s alive,” I said, my voice tight and strong, willing her to hang on. “We’ll get her.”
Her phone buzzed as she took it out. On the screen, a live feed flickered. Clara showed up in the video. Gagged and battered, sitting on the back of a moving van, her bruised face pallid under the light. Natasha’s smirk filled the screen, her tone harsh. “You’re too slow, heiress. Tick-tock.” The feed went dark, leaving us in the relentless drum of rain.
Valenticia’s face fell, but her voice was firm. “ Let's follow the van, Stefan. Wherever it’s going.”
“It’s a trap,” I said, shaking her by the arm, her blood wet between my fingers. “You’re hurt, Valencia. We need a plan this time or stand the risk of losing her — and you.”
Her eyes met mine, her wounded hand dripping, looking determined despite her pain. “Fine,” she whispered, “but we’re not waiting long.”
I walked her to a guard shack, its rusty walls offering scant protection from the storm. I ran back to my car and took out my laptop. When I returned to her, I flipped it open. My laptop buzzed as I succeeded in hacking the dock’s cameras, and I took in grainy feeds of the action springing to life. A clip depicted the van driving away, its license plate visible under a streetlight. “ Galden's warehouse, east side,” I said. “That’s their destination.”
“ Let's go,” Valenticia said with a fierce voice. “Now.”
“You’re bleeding,” I replied, harsher than I meant to, but softer than I should have. “ Let's patch you up first, then we go. Trust me.”
We raced back to New Dream safehouse. Interiorly, the atmosphere was faint. I sat Valenticia on a cot, took her hand, took a med kit, and cleaned her hand with a steady hand because the cut was deeper than I’d feared. The real skin underneath was warm under my fingers, which made her tremble. “Thank you” a flicker that ached in my chest. I met her eyes, heavy silence as I treated her wound, her breath catching. My hand stops my fingers inches from her jawline, and I ease closer, her lips an inch away, everything silent, the electricity sizzling through me when my phone interrupts us—Carter, his voice desperate.
I stopped short, my hand falling to my side, and put the call on speaker. “What?” I asked. Rain still dripping from my coat.
“Clawford’s servers got nailed,” Carter said, his voice grim. “Valenticia’s emails — some private stuff — are leaking to the press. They cast her as erratic, disloyal.”
Valenticia's bandaged hand knotted into a fist, and her eyes smoldered. “She’s destroying me,” she whispered, her voice shaking but intense. “We have to stop that van.”
I nodded, my mind racing. The warehouse was our destination and between Natasha having the ability to attack from the shadows, we had walked ourselves into a trap. “We intercept the van,” I said, pulling up a map on my computer. “Gideon’s provided us with their course. We hit hard, take Clara and get out.”
Valenticia drew nearer, speaking as if she wasn't in pain. “I’m in. No backing down.”
We’d tracked the raid — Carter called in updates from the traffic cams, the path of the van secure. But the safehouse lamps flickered, and then I heard a snake-like hiss curling through the air, immediately, acrid fog filled my lungs. Valenticia's eyes went wide, her body teetered, then she fell to the floor, her bandaged hand lifelessly dropping to the floor.