Page 40 of Queen of Ruin

16

VALENTINA

Diego’s absence makes the room smaller. Quieter. The temptation to get more sleep was strong for a while, but the wound I reopened yesterday refuses to settle. The more awake I become, the hotter it burns, with every threat seemingly pulling in different directions every time I breathe.

Diego did his best to patch me up and I don’t blame him, but lying down quickly becomes uncomfortable so I end up sitting back up and gazing around the room. The shabby dresser, worn entertainment unit, and the heavy-back television all look like they belong in another decade. Several decades, in fact. Everything is old and worn, with chips and scrapes that signify not only their age but also the rowdy activities that have taken place in this room and contributed to it.

None of it is familiar.

Did I ever stay in a place like this before? Gazing around, hope builds in my chest that the sight of something in here, or my disgust toward how they look, will trigger a memory within me that would be the key to unlocking everything.

Nothing works.

No flashes of what my own home is like, or places I’ve visited or stayed. Not even flashes of someone else’s home like a person I may have called a friend.

Nothing.

Was my life empty before this? Void of love and family, with no one to look for me and no one to care other than the people who brutalized me? Why they want me back so badly is a mystery, but maybe it will work in my favor. If we run into a worse situation than Diego and the cop, maybe my lack of memory will help me and they’ll let us go.

I purse my lips and gaze down at my hands.

Foolish thinking.

These people are intent to kill.

But I have that skill too. The way I moved yesterday to protect Diego from that man was the most comfortable I’ve felt in this body since I woke up with no memories. It was like instinct, but refreshing in the way that I knew exactly what to do without having to think about it. I just acted. I was fast and powerful and I saved Diego’s life.

Someone must have taught me that.

Someone must be putting my skill to use.

A slow, painful trip to the bathroom derails my thoughts for about twenty minutes since every single movement, no matter how small, aggravates that freshly torn area across my ribs. It’s ridiculous. How can one part of my body be so connected to every other part of me?

“I hate it,” I grumble to myself, speaking out loud so I feel less alone. “I hate it. I hate being in pain. I hate not remembering anything. I hate it.”

Returning to the bed, I ease myself back down with a low gasp and rummage through my pockets until I find the mysterious black card.

Once again, it activates with my thumb against the screen and the same info flashes up.

The Suit.

Queen.

Valentina.

Unlike last time, there’s no jolt to my mind and no flash of memory to give me new information. Just silence.

But why me? This card didn’t light up when Diego was touching it so it must be connected to me in some way. Staring down at it, I switch out my thumb for every other finger, but the only one that brings the card to life is my right-hand thumb.

My fingerprint, maybe?

Why would I need something so mysterious? Diego’s jokes about my being an assassin or a spy suddenly feel a lot more real and I quickly shove the card back into my pocket. That’s not something I need to worry about right now. If I can’t remember, then I shouldn’t dwell.

Except I do.

I mull it all over until I can picture the details of that car crystal clear in my mind, and I’m so focused that when Diego hurries back into the room, the sight of the door opening makes me flinch in fright.

“Ow!” I cradle my ribs with one hand and lean forward as hot, tight pain radiates through my torso.