CHAPTER 4: BLOOD IN THE PRIVATE CLUB
The River District never slept.
But it pretended to.
Neon lights reflected off wet asphalt, painting the streets in colors that looked beautiful from a distance and rotten up close. Music pulsed behind tinted glass. Laughter spilled out of private entrances. Deals were made in whispers that never made it into daylight.
Matteo Valente walked through all of it like a crack in reality.
No escort.
No announcement.
Just him.
And two men behind him who already knew better than to speak.
The club was called ECLIPSE.
A place that officially belonged to no one.
Which meant it belonged to the right people.
Matteo pushed through the entrance.
No one stopped him.
Not because they recognized him—
but because something about him made recognition unnecessary.
Inside, the air was thick with perfume, alcohol, and false confidence. Private booths lined the walls. A central lounge glittered under low amber light.
And at the far end—
Dante Russo was waiting.
He wasn’t surprised.
That was the first thing Matteo noticed.
He sat back in a leather chair like a man watching a performance he had already rehearsed. Dark suit. Relaxed posture. A glass of whiskey untouched beside him.
As if he had been expecting this exact moment.
“Matteo Valente,” Dante said, smiling slightly. “You don’t usually come to places like this.”
Matteo didn’t stop walking.
“I don’t usually come to places twice,” he replied.
Dante’s smile widened a fraction.
“Then I’m honored.”
Matteo stopped in front of him.
The distance between them wasn’t large.
But it felt like a battlefield.
“You touched something that wasn’t yours,” Matteo said.
Dante tilted his head slightly.
“Something?” he repeated softly.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“Arya Monroe.”
That name changed the air instantly.
Not visibly.
But everyone in the room felt it.
Dante didn’t react the way most men would.
No denial.
No confusion.
Just a slow, thoughtful exhale.
“Ah,” he said quietly. “Her.”
That single word made Matteo’s expression darken.
Dante picked up his glass but didn’t drink.
Instead, he studied Matteo over the rim.
“You’ve been misinformed,” he said calmly.
Matteo stepped closer.
“I’ve been patient,” he corrected.
Dante smiled again.
“Same thing in your world, isn’t it?”
A pause.
Then Dante added:
“Power dressed as restraint.”
Matteo didn’t respond.
Because he didn’t come here for philosophy.
He came for truth.
And consequences.
Dante finally set the glass down.
“I didn’t touch her,” he said.
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“Lies don’t help you.”
Dante leaned forward slightly.
“Neither does rage.”
Silence.
Then Dante continued.
“If I had done what you’re imagining… she wouldn’t be alive to tell you about it.”
Matteo’s eyes sharpened.
That part was calculated.
Not denial.
A challenge.
Behind Dante, two men shifted slightly in the shadows.
Matteo noticed.
Of course he did.
But he didn’t look at them.
“I don’t care what you say you did,” Matteo said quietly.
“I care what she’s afraid to say out loud.”
That landed differently.
Dante studied him more carefully now.
Not amused anymore.
Curious.
“You’re attached,” Dante said.
Matteo stepped forward half a pace.
“No,” he replied.
A pause.
Then colder:
“I’m deciding what happens to you.”
The temperature in the room changed instantly.
Music outside the booth still played.
But inside—
everything tightened.
Dante exhaled slowly.
“You don’t understand what you’re stepping into,” he said.
Matteo tilted his head slightly.
“Then explain it before I remove you from it.”
Dante’s gaze flickered briefly.
Not fear.
Calculation again.
Then he said something that made Matteo stop for the first time.
“You think Arya is a victim of mine.”
A pause.
“But she’s not the only one who’s been controlled.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
Dante continued.
“She was placed here.”
Silence.
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“Placed.”
Dante nodded slightly.
“Long before I ever met her.”
For the first time, Matteo didn’t interrupt.
Dante leaned back again.
“Do you think someone like her ends up in Valente Tower by accident?” he asked.
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t believe in accidents.”
“Good,” Dante said softly.
“Because neither do I.”
A pause.
Then:
“She wasn’t assigned to me,” Dante said. “She was assigned around me.”
Matteo stepped closer again.
“Explain.”
Dante looked up at him.
And for the first time—
there was something serious in his expression.
“Someone wanted access to this building,” he said.
“And Arya was the key.”
The words didn’t immediately make sense.
But they didn’t need to.
Matteo felt it anyway.
A shift.
A structure underneath everything.
Dante continued.
“I didn’t own her,” he said. “I monitored her. Controlled access. Reported movement. That’s all.”
A pause.
“Because if I didn’t, someone else would have.”
Matteo’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“Who.”
Dante held his gaze.
“That’s the question you should be asking.”
A beat.
Then:
“Not me.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The noise of the club outside felt distant now.
Matteo’s mind was moving faster than his expression allowed.
Arya.
Bruises.
Control systems.
Access logs.
Internal organization.
Not random violence.
Structure.
Design.
He finally spoke.
“You’re saying she’s bait.”
Dante didn’t deny it.
He didn’t confirm it either.
Instead, he said:
“I’m saying she survived longer than she was supposed to.”
Matteo stepped back slightly.
For the first time since the beginning—
something in his certainty cracked.
Not about Dante.
About everything else.
Dante watched him carefully.
“You didn’t come here for truth,” he said quietly.
“You came here for someone to punish.”
Matteo looked at him.
Cold again.
Controlled again.
“No,” he said.
A pause.
Then:
“I came here to understand what I’m about to destroy.”
Dante smiled faintly.
“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.”
Matteo turned toward the exit.
But stopped.
Just once.
Without looking back, he said:
“If you’re lying…”
A pause.
“Then you die slowly.”
Dante’s voice followed him.
“And if I’m not?”
Matteo didn’t answer.
Because that was the problem now.
He didn’t know.
Outside, the rain had started again.
Not heavy.
But enough.
Matteo stepped into it without hesitation.
May you like
And for the first time since meeting Arya Monroe…
he wasn’t sure who the enemy was anymore.
