The club was unusually quiet tonight.
Too quiet.
No screaming bass. No drunken laughter. No whistles or howls from the booths.
Just the soft hum of tension, like a storm waiting to crack the sky.
Raven stood at the edge of the VIP floor, staring down at the empty stage. Her heels clicked slowly as she descended the steps—each sound echoing louder than the last.
Where was everyone?
Where was Dante?
She made it to the center of the main floor before she saw it:
Blood.
A smear of it on the floor near the bar.
Fresh. Crimson. Not enough to signal death, but enough to send her heart pounding in her chest.
She followed the trail carefully, past the edge of the dance floor, to the hallway near the employee lounge.
It led to a door.
One she'd never noticed before.
No handle. No label. No lock. Just darkness.
And it was slightly open.
Raven hesitated, every instinct screaming don't go in.
But instincts had never saved her before.
Only answers.
🖤 Behind the DoorThe room was dimly lit by a single red bulb.
Inside, a man sat slumped in a chair, blood pooling around his boot. His face was bruised. Lip split. Eye swollen shut.
Not Dante.
But one of his men.
Tomas, the bartender who always offered her extra water between sets.
"Raven…" he whispered, barely conscious.
She knelt beside him. "What happened?"
He shook his head slowly. "They got in."
"Who?"
His eye fluttered. "He knows. He knows you're not what you seem…"
Her heart stopped.
"Tomas," she hissed, gripping his shirt. "Who did this?"
But he'd already passed out.
She turned—
And found Dante standing in the doorway.
⚔️His expression was unreadable.
He didn't look angry.
Didn't look concerned.
He looked… calm.
Too calm.
"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly.
Raven rose slowly. "Neither should he."
"He'll live."
"Who did this?"
Dante didn't answer.
He stepped into the room, knelt beside Tomas, and carefully checked the man's pulse.
Then he stood and walked to her—slow, steady, dangerous.
"I told you to stay away from things you don't understand," he said.
Raven met his gaze. "And I told you I don't follow rules."
He didn't smile.
Instead, he leaned in, breath warm on her cheek.
"There are men in this city who would gut you just to see me bleed," he whispered. "And tonight, one of them tried."
Raven's blood went cold.
"You think this was about me?" she asked.
"I think this was a message. One meant for you and me both."
She shook her head. "That doesn't make sense—"
"It does," he said, eyes locked on hers. "When someone knows who you really are."
Her heart seized in her chest.
He stepped even closer, caging her between the wall and his body.
"No more lies, Raven," he murmured. "Tell me what you're doing here. Tell me who you really are."
She stared up at him, lips parting—then shut them again.
She couldn't.
Not yet.
Not when everything was spiraling too fast.
🥀 Later – Dante's PenthouseShe didn't know how they ended up here.
One moment they were in the hallway. The next, she was in his car, silence heavy between them. Now she stood in his living room, high above the city, surrounded by glass and night.
His home was nothing like the club.
It was quiet. Clean. Elegant. Filled with shadows and expensive silence.
She felt strangely exposed here, even though she was fully dressed.
He poured them both a drink.
"Sit," he said softly.
She didn't move.
"Raven."
Still, she stood.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, finally. "If I wanted to, I already would've."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"No," he said. "You're afraid of what I see in you."
She finally sat.
He handed her the drink but didn't touch his own.
"I need to know if I'm protecting the enemy," he said.
She looked at him sharply. "Is that what you think I am?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," he said. "I've had you followed. I've had your apartment searched. I know about the burner phone. I know about the man you met outside the pier."
Her blood turned to ice.
"I should kill you," he said flatly. "Just for the threat you pose."
"Then why haven't you?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked to the window, looking down at the city.
"Because I'm tired of losing things I care about," he said.
Raven's chest tightened.
"You care about me?" she asked quietly.
"I don't want to," he admitted. "But I do."
She rose slowly and walked to him.
Stood beside him in the glass reflection.
"I'm not your enemy, Dante."
"Then who are you?"
"I can't tell you that."
He turned sharply. "Then I'll have to find out myself."
Before she could respond, he stepped away and disappeared down the hall.
She stood there alone, shaken.
Then, on the coffee table, she spotted something.
A file.
Her file.
Left open.
She stepped closer.
Inside was a photo she hadn't seen before.
A still from security footage.
From inside Room 13.
Her. Dante. In bed.
But not the one from the envelope on her door.
This one had a timestamp.
And a watermark.
BRATVA.
Her throat tightened.
She'd been wrong.
Whoever sent her the photo wasn't working against Dante.
They were watching him. Watching her. Watching both of them.
The Russian mob had eyes inside Inferno.
And they knew everything.
🕯️ Back at Her ApartmentRaven paced her bedroom in silence.
What the hell was going on?
Why would the Bratva target her?
She wasn't even their focus — Dante was.
Unless...
Unless they knew.
About the USB drive.
About the plan.
About her mission.
Someone had leaked it.
But who?
She grabbed the burner phone and called Hawk.
The line rang twice before he picked up.
"Report."
"I think someone's feeding the Bratva information."
Silence.
"I found a file in Dante's apartment," she continued. "Bratva watermark. Room 13 surveillance."
Hawk exhaled. "We didn't leak that."
"Then someone else did."
"Listen to me," Hawk said. "If the Bratva's involved, your mission just changed. You're not there to collect data anymore."
Her blood chilled.
"What do you mean?"
"You're there to kill him. Clean and fast. Before they get to him first."
She froze.
"I can't."
"You don't have a choice, Raven. You've got five days left. End it. Or we will."