valor grows by daring.

valor rowe || 31 || boss of the italian mafia || art gallery owner || photographer

[coramciver-blog]

in for the kill | valor & cora

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ CORA }} .

Keep reading

His eyes flickered down to her fingers lightly touching the now deep red fabric of his shirt, carefully watching her every movement. She came even closer to him, and he could tell they were both on the same exact page now; everything about their behaviors and emotions seemed to be in sync. 

So when she placed her lips on his, he was still for only a second or two before his hand found her waist, gripping tightly as he began backing her up, kissing her even more roughly. He did not do this type of thing often, but that by no means meant he was inexperienced. Once they got closer to the cushy, plush couch that was stained with blood, he sat himself down, pulling her onto his lap. Corpses may have been laying around them, but to him, it hardly dampened the mood. Running her hands over her waist, squeezing and groping slightly, he finally brought one hand to the back of her neck and kept a firm hold as he slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring thoroughly and hungrily while his other hand began to rub her thigh.

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ ALEXI }} .

Alex had been in hot pursuit all morning. He’d found the one person who could give him true answers to the questions he had; but it seemed they weren’t in the sharing mood. He’d been chasing the guy around the main island for what seemed like hours. Dipping in and out of side streets and catching rides off the back of unknowing boaters. Avoiding the main square because if it really came down to it and Alex needed to use the gun that he had tucked into the back of his jeans, he didn’t really want to be using it in the middle of a extremely busy square. Any time his crook looked as though he was making a break for the cover he’d find in the piazza, Alex would catch him and push him in other direction. This attempt however had been successful. He’d push into a crowd that was moving into the centre of the piazza and Alex unfortunately lost sight of him. 

The male stopped dead in his tracks and began to turn left and right. Studying every face in every group of people. Listening for any hint from the words that were being uttered around him in all sorts of languages. How could he have lost him so quickly? He had to be here. “Дерьмо!” He yelled, starting to swear at himself in Russian. This wasn’t going to go down well. He wouldn’t be so easy to find the next time. His breathing grew labored as he grew more and more agitated with himself. He hadn’t even noticed the attention he was now receiving due to his outburst.

Valor had been sitting on a bench in the middle of the piazza, looking down at the screen of his camera studying over the photos he had taken when he had noticed a rapid movement out of the corner of his eye. Immediately snapping his head upwards, his blue-green orbs zeroed in on the male, naturally wary; he never knew when an enemy was after him, and with his son being in the city, he was twice as cautious as before. 

As he studied the male a bit longer, though, he began to realize he actually knew who he was. He had seen photos before; he knew Liv, or Thea as she would now be known, trusted him, but of course, that didn’t mean Valor would. The Russian curses that flew out of his mouth only made him wrinkle his nose slightly, but the mafioso still barely smirked in amusement.

Getting up from the bench, he shut his camera off and let it hang loosely around his neck, casually striding over to the Russian through the crowds of Italians and tourists. “Having a rough day?” he questioned, his tone dripping of mocked sympathy. “I think I’ve seen six-year-olds playing tag better at chasing their opponents,” he remarked, grinning somewhat wickedly. He did not mean any severe malice or hostility towards the other-- he was not looking for a fight. Not for the time being, anyways. However, that did not mean he would be so willing to play the nice guy with someone who was supposed to be his sworn enemy.

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ GREER }} .

Greer has her good days, and she certainly has her bad ones. Unfortunately, the gallery wasn’t graced with the ‘smiley’ woman behind most of the art displayed as usual. Today, they are sucked into the sorrowful and dejected ambiance she can’t help but release. Usually, when she’s this down, she’d be at a canvas, letting it all out with the colors of her dark pallets, but since she’s walking among-st her guests with a glass of wine and bags under her eyes,   it’s a sign she has had the nightmare. The one that sneaks up on her when she’s feeling good, the one that seems to get more intense and realistic as it comes. And for some off reason, instead of bottling it all in, she’s decided to drink, and peer into her own misery on the walls. 

Naturally, she brought the glass up to her lips and took a pained sip, her expression after indicating that it burned, but that was the least of her problems. If she was being honest, she kind of liked that it did. While taking the bottle of wine in her other hand and poring it into her glass as she stood stuck in front of her latest piece. She took a deep breath in and out, her eyes trailing every stroke of paint with regret. It wasn’t like she didn’t like the piece because of the skill she put into it, but the story it told. A burning house, just as she remembered it, an old bear turning into ash under the an run down sofa. It was so hard for her to look at, but yet she couldn’t take her eyes away-.. the things she did to torture herself. Greer hadn’t named it yet, and probably never will. Once again, the woman brought the glass to her lips, at this point forgetting that anyone else was there. It may not look like it, but this was the way she picked herself back up again, revising the past and rubbing it in her own face. Sometimes Greer needed reminder of where she comes from and how horrible she truly is, then she can move on until she’s back to square one. The second she sipped down the glass until it was empty, her other hand came up to pore another glass, but the wine bottle was also vacant of anything she found useful to drown her sadness with. 

Her disappointment led to a small scoff, and her gaze shifted over to a male staring at a piece that slightly resembled the one she was just sulking over. “How’d they do?” She asked softly. 

Eyes now flickering over the woman talking to him, he raised an eyebrow slightly. “I’m generally a bit picky about the art I like,” he replied, gazing over the piece for a few moments before looking back at her. “But I have to say, I’m quite pleased with this artist’s style. I suppose that’s because it’s very similar to mine.” He could tell that each piece captured a story, but certainly not one of peace and happiness. Which, in his opinion, was a good thing-- were the stories of peace and happiness ever really interesting, anyways?

“I don’t usually come across people who think the same way I do, though,” he continued, shrugging slightly; this was not only in the matter of art, but pretty much everything. He supposed he could not expect anyone to relate to a sociopathic, cold blooded killer, anyways. “Which is why I’d like to meet with the artist myself. It’s refreshing seeing someone bold enough to illustrate this type of darkness rather than stick to what merely pleases the audience.” Looking at her curiously, he inquired, “You wouldn’t happen to know the person behind these paintings, would you?”

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ CORONA }} .

Ronie played with the lid of her Zippo lighter, cracking it aflame a couple times before fiddling with it once more and shoving it into her jacket pocket. She mimicked the man, taking a long drag out of he cigarette in her mouth, loving the feeling it gave her. She heard his voice again, it sounded deep, like someone who loves to get into trouble, and Corona liked that. She didn’t know a thing about a man, but someone who likes to get into trouble is definitely fun to have around.

“Fan, yeah, I’m a model” She said with a short shrug. She didn’t expect to get recognized, she never really had. The fair, few occasions in which she had gotten stopped around the street, it tended to be by teenage girls who idolized her. She would’ve given them proper advice, to idolize someone like Audrea, that’s the role model they should’ve gone for, but the selfish and self absobed part of her loved the recognition, so she just agreed to the selfies and went on with her day. “I know, right? So I’d very much rather stay out here. I mean, I’d gladly show you my interior decoration, but you wouldn’t have to sneak in at all” She said with a quick wink, her flirty nature coming out on its own. “Valor… Italian?”

“I see. That makes sense,” he said with a nod, eyes briefly flickering over her clearly fit, slender body. It was probably the nearest thing to a compliment he would give; he was not one to throw out kind words at people on a daily basis. “What brings you to Venice, then? Here for a photoshoot, or some type of fashion show?” The question made him realize he needed more models for his own photography, and the ones he wanted for his type of art were hard to come by. Valor’s photography was generally dark and raw, and therefore safe to say, quite scandalous. But as he studied the female before him, the way she moved, the way she spoke-- perhaps she was perfect for the job. He decided he would wait to bring it up, though; he was in no rush to discuss business. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, he replied, “Wow, I’m honored. And no, actually. I have some Italian blood in me, yes, but I’m American. I only came to Venice a few weeks ago.”

[fvckinghawk-blog]

a dangerous game ft. valor

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ HAWK }} .

   Hawk was a rebellious one, sarcastic and defiant by nature, however he wasn’t an idiot. At least, not stupid enough to play along with Valor Rowe, for now. He would decide after this initial meeting if he would follow through with whatever the Mafioso wanted for him, but that ultimately came to how good the pay was. It was almost surprising how disappointed the former activist should feel about that fact versus how he actually did feel. His loyalties, his morals had all been tossed to the wind whenever he watched the world crush his friends, his mentor, everyone around him. If the world didn’t care about him, why should he care about it? He didn’t want to think about how angry his old hacker group might be if they could see him now; no doubt seeing that he only cared about cold, hard cash now wouldn’t be too much of a surprise, but it also was almost sad to see how far he’d fallen.

“Does your kind even know what a casual conversation is?” Hawk joked, mostly to keep from appearing too scared of the monster before him. He did sit, obediently, however.  He stretched out his long legs and lounged like a rebellious teenager. “Yeah, I am chompin’ at the fuckin’ bit to hear what a guy like you wants with a guy like me. Let me guess, you’re not a techie?” He asked sarcastically, using his thumb to crack down on his middle finger of the same hand, popping the knuckle. It was, by no means, supposed to threaten or scare Valor, but it was a nasty habit he possessed since he was just a kid. “I hope you at least did your research on me, what little you could find out. I don’t come cheap, especially not this kind of dirty shit, so here’s to hoping you didn’t just a waste a trip meeting someone you can’t pay for.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m very similar to everyone else that falls under the category of “my kind”, so you would have to ask them yourself. Although I will say I’ve never understood the point of the formalities of greetings-- why ask someone how they are when you really don’t care?” Taking another sip of his drink, he nodded to Hawk in the bartender’s direction so he would come take his order, silently gesturing that he would pay for it. “And it appears he has common sense. How delightful-- this is why I enjoy the “techies” more than the men I work with.” Looking at the dark-haired man beside him, he raised an eyebrow, expression otherwise impassive. “I can’t quite remember the last time I couldn’t pay for something, so I don’t believe you have anything to worry about. I also don’t do anything that’s a waste of my time, but your concern is appreciated,” he replied, the slightest hint of a wicked flicker in his eyes.

[axelhalstensson-deactivated2017]

Now or Never

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ THEA }} .

She watched as his lips moved, his blue eyes focused on her and Ares yet Thea could not tear her eyes away from the two Italian men, standing on the other side of the room. Their backs are to them, but Thea continues to stare at them as if she was waiting for them to fuck up. To give her a reason to put them down. Though they were Valor’s men, that mean nothing to the former contract killer. I’m glad to see you made it safely, Valor had said as he stepped aside to let Thea and their son into his lavish home. His words caused a humorless chuckle to escape through her lips.

As Valor continue to talk, Thea keeps her mouth shut (did he always talk this fucking much?), though she took everything in – every little detail. The long corridor, the artwork hanging on the walls and the nursery. Nothing went unnoticed by her.

He wanted to know what she thought of Ares’s nursery, but all she could say was two simple words that were almost unknown to her vocabulary. “Thank you.” Her eyes meetings his, before quickly glancing down at their sleeping son. “For now, Ares will be okay sleeping in here. We have much to discuss.” Without making a noise, Thea walked over to Ares’s crib and softly laid him down. Looking down at their son, her beautiful son, Thea spoke softly to Valor, “I was able to finally lose them in Mumbai.” After leaving Scotland, Thea knew she couldn’t go straight to Venice, that would be a rookie mistake. So, she went London, to Ukraine, to Norway then to Germany before landing in India. Losing them in such an overpopulated city had been Thea’s idea all along, but it had taken time – an extra week of traveling and isolation.

Thea bit her lower lip in pain as she slowly took off the two leather backpacks and placed Ares’s in his closet. The other backpack wouldn’t leave her sight. “My left shoulder is dislocated.” It came out colder than what she wanted. “– I’ll need you to pop in back into place.” Finally removing her oversize sunglasses and her black baseball hat, Thea allowed the cuts and bruise from the explosion be seen. “My room?” Was all she asked as she turned away from the closet and looked at Valor.

“You’re welcome.” He wasn’t really expecting a monologue of awe and gratitude, anyways-- they had far more important things to talk about than their current accommodation. He watched as she placed his child into the crib before looking at her, listening to her recount her adventures. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until they find us here,” he mused, but it had certainly given them a headstart. He could start preparing for the ugliness that would come within the month and make sure it was annihilated even quicker.

His blue-green hues flickered over the injuries scattered across her body, though there was no expression of sympathy or concern. This was the life the two of them were set to have, even though they had not signed up for it. Nodding his head, he left Ares’ room and guided her to the bedroom right next to it. 

Stepping inside with her, he stood behind her, arching an eyebrow. “Stay still, now-- though I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.” Taking a hold of her shoulder with one hand and her elbow with the other, he rotated her arm firmly until he heard the pop, stepping back. “Better?” he inquired, barely smirking. “How long have you had to deal with that?”

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ ADRIAN }} .

“Okay, alright, alright, fair point. But I’m not convinced you’re not helping those weak-of-heart much more,” he said, unsure how any unsuspecting tour group would be less startled by the body they left behind-even if he wasn’t dead. “And what are you going to say if they ask you how you cut yourself with the glass?” It was a stupid question, stupid of Beau to assume that he wasn’t thinking one, two, three steps ahead already, but Beau secretly hoped to someday catch Valor in a question he couldn’t answer. It was certainly a pride thing, and Beau’s pride had gotten him in trouble in the past, but he had no intention of humbling himself any time soon. “My day has sucked,” he answered with a sigh, unloading all his grief on Valor without checking to see if he even wanted to hear, “It’s almost Stella and I’s anniversary and I have no idea what to get her. It’s the first time I actually have enough money to do something nice for her, but I don’t know what. She doesn’t want anything.”

“He’ll get up in no time. Honestly, if you ask me, he’s being a bit dramatic. I could pour a drop of cold water on him and he’d probably flinch,” Valor said with a roll of his eyes. “I highly doubt anyone will care of the exact process that led up to cutting my hand, but if you’re so keen on me having a full story, I was cleaning up the pieces of a broken beer bottle.” Half the time, he wondered why he even answered Beau’s questions that never seemed to end on some days, but at the end of the day, he was good at what he did and had the type of commitment to the job Valor needed. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to actually answer me honestly,” he said with a sigh, as if this were the biggest inconvenience of his day-- he really would take injuries in fights over playing therapist to the drug dealer. “Excuse me.” He left to go towards the bathroom, stepping inside and quickly washing his hands, making sure the cut stopped bleeding before coming back out to join Beau at the bar. “Why not some type of exquisite drug assortment?” he inquired sarcastically in reference to a possible gift idea for Stella, the same way one would suggest a fancy cheese platter.

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ MIA }} .

“No, I just sit around a twiddle my thumbs, waiting for him to return from whatever adventure he’s sent on by you.” If he anticipated to get under her skin with the comment, it mostly didn’t work. Mia was well-aware that her relationship with Adrian was more-or-less the center of her life. It was unusual to her-and honestly a bit pathetic-but definitely not unnoticed. “And you’re wrong; I prefer to snort, not swallow.” 

“How tragic, to be whipped by both your girlfriend and your boss,” Valor mused, just barely smirking. “Of course, I sometimes forget how classy you are,” he replied sarcastically. He really didn’t mind Stella all that much, but regardless of how the two felt about each other, they were simply naturally sarcastic, snarky people. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you out in broad daylight. I was a bit convinced that you were a vampire.”

[victnam]

[axelhalstensson-deactivated2017]

“ do you ever have trouble sleeping after? ”     “ no. ”   “ me neither. ”

@valor-rowe

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ STEFANO }} .

Welcome To Venice ℘ ft. Valor [ @valor-rowe ]

Ignacio Rowe was a great man to many people, Stefano Di Cristina included. A mentor, father figure and all-round okay guy in his book. If it wasn’t for men like Ignacio in the family, Stefano would not have been able to excel in their underground criminal network as he did. Learning the ropes of the ‘family’ had been difficult enough, but with guidance and grooming earned along the way from Ignacio and others, Stefano is where he is today. for that he is eternally grateful. There’s a sense of closeness there, of a real family regardless of their motives, looking out for one another came with the territory. He felt that it should be natural for him to extend such a favor to Ignacio’s grandson; Valor. 

Over in the US he had made a name for himself, and of course Ignacio couldn’t be more proud of his impressive strides. Now, because of this unfortunate circumstance he has made the trip from the United States of America to Venice. However long Valor intended to stay he would be most welcome by his fellow Mafiosos. 

Attending the funeral was Stefano’s way of paying his respects, as well as arranging to meet Valor. With the graveside service coming to a close, the crowd thinned. Stefano waited for an opportune moment before he approached the grieving family members. As per mafia customs, an Associate introduced Stefano to Valor, and he took over from there. “It’s a pity that such circumstances is what has brought us together. I’ve heard great things,” he spoke as they walked, gradually pulling away from prying ears. 

Quite honestly, Valor could care less about this funeral. He did not understand why funerals were a custom, to begin with-- couldn’t people mourn the dead by themselves rather than make a big fuss over it? Then again, Valor did not ever feel the need to mourn, so perhaps he would never understand why people did the things they did to cope.

But just because he was a sociopathic killer, it did not mean he had not respected Ignacio Rowe just like his loyal members had. In fact, Valor liked Ignacio a lot more than he did his own father. He had to wonder how different his life would be, how different he would be if he were raised under the reputable mafia boss’ roof. Valor believed he was an excellent leader during his time, and he aspired to be the same.

The only benefit to this funeral, however, was that he had a chance to meet the men and women that would now work for him. He was a bit wary; despite these people being his “family”, he would never fully trust anyone save for his sister, the mother of his child, and his right hand man who was currently taking care of things for him in the US. As he was being introduced to the man known as Stefano Di Cristina, his blue-green orbs flickered over him carefully. 

“A pity indeed,” he replied, though the sincerity in his tone was probably lacking. To him, meeting in a bar would have felt the same. “Thank you. I’ve heard some of the people here talk very highly about you. I’m sure my grandfather must have believed the same,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he walked along with the other, secretly relieved to be away from the crowd inside.

[coramciver-blog]

in for the kill | valor & cora

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ CORA }} .

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Valor glanced over at the debacle next to them, not worried about the two boys in the least-- he could see out of the corner of his eye that they were watching the struggle of the injured man on the floor, when they could have easily been using the moment to try and procure a fallen weapon. What these two were doing in the business at all, Valor had no idea. He would be doing them a favor by killing them-- if not by him, they were sure to get killed in the near future anyways.

Smirking slightly as he watched the bloodshed happen, he then looked back at the two boys who now clearly seemed to understand that Cora was not their savior. “Believe me, I’d like to let you go,” he said in a tone that was nowhere near genuine at all, “but even if you weren’t incompetent idiots, you’ve seen too much. Can’t have you sharing the adventures you had past your bedtime with the police.” 

“W-we won’t tell! We promise!” the same boy begged; the other seemed too terrified to even speak. “Oh? You promise? In that case, please, walk right out, I completely trust you,” he spoke sarcastically. Finally taking his gun out of his pocket, he pointed it straight at them.

“I’ll at least give you the mercy of a quick death,” he said, though the smirk was gone. He did not find amusement in traitors, and anyone who went against him had a very, very low chance of surviving. “Perhaps this will send a message to any other little boys who think they can handle what the mafia is all about.”

And with two shots, the two crumpled onto the floor of Room 7, joining their comrades who lay scattered around them. Valor watched emotionlessly as he placed the gun back into the pocket of his jacket. They couldn’t have been any older than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two; they were most likely innocent boys who had gotten wrapped up in the wrong thing, perhaps been at the wrong place at the wrong time. They probably had families at home worried sick about them and where they were at such a late hour, and they probably had friends who enjoyed the things any person in their twenties did, such as bar crawling and party hopping, but Valor could care less. 

He looked over at Cora, blue orbs flickering over the blood that stained her skimpy, leathery apparel. He knew he was a mess himself; he could feel the splotches of blood on his skin now that he was actually done with taking care of the traitors in the room, and he was sure that his shirt was probably a different color altogether. Breathing somewhat heavily due to the adrenaline rush, he tilted his head slightly as he looked over at her, taking in the sight before him. There was a odd, heavy tension hanging in the air, but it was not necessarily the bad kind. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the way she stood there with her lingerie dyed a deep red, but he could not help himself as he walked over to her.

Now standing a mere inch or so away from her, he looked down at her, head tilting to one side in an almost thoughtful manner as he breathed out, “I think it’s safe to say I won’t have to worry about traitors anymore.”

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ @its-greervolkov​ }} .

For someone who loved and enjoyed art so greatly, Valor had not explored the other galleries of Venice nearly as much as he would have liked. Italy was one of the best places to go to for an art lover like him, yet he had been a bit occupied with.. other things. However, he was genuinely interested to see the art of the citizens around him rather than only that of the legendary painters that hailed from Italy, which was how he now found himself entering the doors of another gallery located not too far from his own. 

He took his time to look at each piece, as he usually did, his blue-green hues flickering over each one with great care and thought. He was not the type who bothered to interpret others’ artwork based on his own opinion, considering nobody but the artist themselves would truly understand the intentions behind the piece. However, that didn’t mean he did not like to appreciate and critique, whether it was aloud or in his head. The more he looked over the work that adorned the walls, the more he could see that the artist behind these pieces was quite similar to him when it came to style and expression. It was refreshing to see more dark pieces, just like the themes of the photos he was so fond of capturing. As someone who had grown up within the mafia, he knew better than to see the world as a place of vibrant color and joy. He enjoyed the people who could see beyond that, people who could capture the real and raw emotion in their work. 

Clearly pleased, he looked around, wondering if he would be able to find the owner of the gallery, or pursue who was behind the work he was currently admiring.

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ @ceciliaxvivier​ }} .

With all of the mafia business Valor had in Italy, he barely had the time for his art like he had in Las Vegas. However, that day, he planned on changing that. He needed a break from his men, from the large estate he owned in San Marco, and even from the killings and bloodshed he enjoyed so greatly. He had set up a few more of his photos in the gallery, ones he had taken from his very first days in Venice, and he was looking forward to taking more once the gallery closed.

As he strode around the gallery, eyes flickering over the different patrons looking at the work that hung on the walls, he noticed a blonde female eyeing one of his favorites in particular. Valor normally did not care much for starting conversation, but when it came to art, he was a different person. He enjoyed hearing the critiques and opinions of others, regardless of whether or not they were different from his own. So, he walked over to her, looking down at the photo she was currently gazing at. “This is one of my favorites in the gallery,” he spoke, deciding to give no hint or clue that he was actually the photographer behind the piece itself. “What do you think of it?”

[coramciver-blog]

in for the kill | valor & cora

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ CORA }} .

Keep reading

Everything that happened in the following moments happened so quickly, anyone else may have been extremely overwhelmed. However, situations like these were all in a day’s work for Valor. He couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the PI stand her ground-- it was refreshing, not having to babysit. If Cora died, well, it wouldn’t really be his problem, but even he could admit it would be a shame losing such a skilled partner.

As she occupied herself with the men coming at her, he looked towards the door once it swung open, arching an eyebrow in amusement as he recognized the man from the entrance burst in. His eyes were wide and his face pale at the sight of the bloody dead bodies scattered across the ground; it was clear he was not here to come to anyone’s defense. Walking right up towards him and grabbing his collar, Valor leaned in and growled, “You will make sure everyone at this damn place leaves right now, do you understand? Then, you are going to stand guard and make sure nobody else comes inside until I have left this building.” He shoved his hand into the man’s pocket, pulling out his wallet and letting him go, opening it and looking down at the identification inside containing his name and address. Smirking lightly, he slid the wallet into his pocket. “If I don’t see you standing out there once I’ve left, you can expect a house call from me tomorrow.” 

Hearing footsteps behind him, the male sighed, though even he couldn’t deny the adrenaline rushing through him. Shoving who was now to be his guard out of Room 7 to go do his job, he spun around and lifted his hand with his knife in it, bringing it down rapidly to stab the new assailant’s chest. Removing it, he kicked the male down onto the ground, looking around. There were only two people left in the room, and from the looks of it, they did not seem eager in attempting to silence the mafioso or his partner-in-crime. 

Sliding his knife back into his pocket calmly, the blonde stepped over the dead bodies, making his way to the figures who seemed to be practically cowering in the corner. “What to do, what to do,” he murmured lowly, blue orbs flickering over them. They seemed a bit younger than most of his men, perhaps in their early twenties-- clearly new to the job. 

“Please,” one of them begged, his Italian accent highlighting his words, “we promise, this will never happen again. We thought this deal would have more money in it for us. They told us we couldn’t trust you.”

He noticed both of them glance at Cora. Perhaps they thought that the only female in the room would be willing to help them out, or perhaps they were simply taking in more eye candy while they could-- Valor truly did not know. He stepped even closer to them, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he looked down at the two of them. “If you think I’m going to leave your fate in her hands, you are very mistaken.”

[valor-rowe-blog]

an unexpected hostage || valor + audrea

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ AUDREA }} .

“Obviously I don’t know what to think, considering you’ve been lying to me this whole time I’ve known you,” the blonde pointed out. Audrea watched as he kicked away her Chanel purse; subconsciously she assumed he was going to rummage through her things and maybe take a few things with him, but maybe he was more than a petty thief.

Strangely, his confession on how he was actually the owner of the gallery and that that part of him was not a lie gave her a little bit of ease. Audrea shouldn’t have felt that way, but she did; for a split second she forgot she was still in a bit of a pickle and the chance of her being shot dead is still quite big. The heiress glanced at the door he was referring to and looked back at him, hoping that he would change his mind because she knew there is nothing worse than being in a basement with a man who could very well be a serial killer standing right behind her back. The way he spoke about how more people were going to be harmed sent chills straight up her spine and it caused her to not budge.

“If you really think I’m going into a shady and dark basement while you have all my things here and not giving me a guarantee on when I’m going to be able to leave in peace, you are absolutely delusional,” she crossed her arms. “I’m not letting you keep me hostage just like that.”

“Lying? I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Valor scoffed. “If not revealing all of our deepest, darkest secrets during casual conversation was considered lying, well then, we’d all be terrible people.” Quite honestly, he had no issue with bluntly telling people he was a mafia boss, but that didn’t mean he felt the need to bring it up with everyone he spoke with. After all, he had to be careful to a certain extent, especially around the wealthy.

He looked at the blonde in disbelief when she flat out disobeyed him, his patience running thin. He was extremely close to shooting her straight in the head and leaving her dead body there as he went downstairs himself, but that would be one more corpse he would have to deal with. However, that did not mean he would go easy on her. Pressing the trigger, he shot the wall that was a mere inch or so away from her head, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at her.

“Go downstairs,” he hissed, “or your head will be next.” Grabbing the body of the attacker and jerking him up to his feet, he walked closer to her while keeping the gun pointed at her. “The faster you follow my instructions, the sooner I will let you leave unharmed.”

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ MIA }} .

“Doesn’t seem very petty if you had to kill him,” Beau remarked, he wasn’t really sure if the man was dead or not, but he wasn’t about to check himself so he was fine letting Valor just correct him if needed. “Right, because walking into a public place covered in blood isn’t suspicious,” he scoffed, but followed him across the street anyway. Instead of walking in silence, Beau asked, “So, how’s your day going?” the childish and never appropriately serious dealer asked.

“If he were dead, Adrian, I wouldn’t be leaving his body around for a tour group to discover,” he replied curtly. It wasn’t as though his opponent could tattletale on him, considering he was in the very same line of business as Valor. “It’s a cut on my hand, I didn’t fall into a meat grinder. I simply cut myself with some glass,” he said with a shrug, walking along with the other. “About to be a lot better once I have some alcohol. And yours?” he inquired, stepping inside the doors to the pub.

[valor-rowe-blog]

{{ MIA }} .

Mia was still staring at the man who was grinding her nerves before Valor showed up, practically barring her teeth, when she turned her attention back to him. “Let me just use that telepathic communication all couples have,” she deadpanned, raising her hands to her temple and closing her eyes to complete the charade. “Oh, I’m getting something; his current location is–Do I look like his keeper?” Sure, she knew the current club her beau was probably at, selling, but it was much more amusing to give Valor a hard time. 

Rolling his eyes, the male tilted his head to one side as he retorted, “Considering the two of you are attached to the hip whenever he’s not doing his job, well, yeah, you do.” Arching an eyebrow with amusement, he questioned, “Do you know a life outside Beau? And swallowing pills in the break room between shifts at work doesn’t count, by the way.”