The Ascendant Shadow

Chapter 10: Blink and I'm Gone

Before starting this chapter, I would like to make it clear that there is a mention of dissociative disorder. The main protagonist, Valentina, reveals in this chapter that she has developed dissociative disorder as a defense mechanism. Due to the traumatic events, she endured during her early teen years, Valentina's mind created this disorder to numb any pain or fear she experienced. It was her body's way of protecting her from emotional overwhelm—a mechanism she never managed to shed, even as she matured.

________________________________________________________________________________

Valentina's POV:

The mention of the Black Blood Mafia didn't strike me as deeply as it should have. I had heard the name tossed around before, whispers in the underground world, but never with the kind of fear and reverence that other organizations seemed to command. To me, it had always sounded like just another group trying to claw their way to the top. Nothing that truly stood out from the rest.

But then, my father's voice cut through the tension, heavy with his Spanish accent. "Valentina," he called, his tone both commanding and familiar. "I see you've met the boys who run Forest Creek. Xander is the son of Michael Knight."

At the sound of that name—Michael Knight—everything clicked into place. Suddenly, the Black Blood Mafia wasn't just another name on the streets. That was why I had heard of them. Not because of some vague reputation, but because of him.

Michael Knight.

A flashback hit me with vivid intensity:

I was draped in a long red dress with a daring slit, my face hidden behind a mask that shielded my identity from the chaos around me. My heart thundered in my chest as I held a gun to Michael's face—the weight of it grounding me in a reality I could barely stomach. Rogelio had commanded me to kill Michael, but instead, I made a choice that changed everything. I shifted my aim and fired at Isabel, Michael's maid. The bullet tore through her arm, the crack of the shot echoing in the room, leaving behind a swirl of relief mixed with bitter regret.

Michael's eyes bore into me—dark, calculating, and cruel. His smirk was a grotesque twist of admiration and respect, a recognition of the power I had just seized by defying Rogelio. But beneath that look, I felt something far more sinister. Michael wasn't just impressed; he was savoring the moment. He enjoyed watching the fear in others, seeing the control slip from their grasp, and knowing he could twist it in his favor. It was a moment I'd never forget. His eyes, his smirk, they became etched into my memory—his face a ghost I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

Rogelio's fury was immediate and vicious. He tore the mask from my face and, without hesitation, threw a punch that crashed into my cheekbone. The force sent me sprawling to the ground, pain exploding through my skull. My vision blurred as stars danced in front of my eyes, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Rogelio, she's just a fucking kid," Michael said, his voice cold but curious as he watched me crumple. He didn't care about me—he cared about the spectacle, about how far Rogelio would go to enforce his dominance. But even as he spoke, there was a twisted undercurrent of amusement, like he relished the sight of me being beaten down.

Rogelio, gun now aimed at Michael, snarled in response, his words dripping with possessive venom. "She's mine."

I spat blood onto the floor, the metallic tang sharp against my tongue. As I lay on my back, using my elbows for support, I felt both men's eyes on me—not just on the blood smeared across my face, but on my body, exposed in the torn fabric of my dress. Their gazes lingered on my chest, their intentions as clear as the cruelty in their eyes. Despite the pain, despite the brutality, I knew exactly what they wanted. And they'd never get it.