The rain fell hard against the city, washing the gutters with oil and broken glass. New York at midnight was a predator dressed in velvet, its skyscrapers glittering like knives. Behind tinted windows, deals were struck. Behind locked doors, bodies were claimed. Tonight was no different.
Luca had never belonged to this world, not truly. He stood in the alley across from Il Sogno Nero, the Mafia's most notorious nightclub, a place where politicians, starlets, and killers drank from the same glass. To the public, the club was legend, whispered about in gossip columns. To those in power, it was something else entirely: the heart of the Moretti crime empire.
Luca's jacket was too thin for the storm. His shoes were ruined, soaked through with rain. He looked like a stray pressed against the wall, but his eyes told a different story. Sharp, calculating, they followed every black car pulling up to the curb, every guard checking the sidewalk. He had come here for one reason. To sell a lie convincing enough to save his life
The man at the door was built like a wall of stone. His suit strained against muscle, and the glint of a pistol showed when he shifted his weight. His face bore a scar across the cheek, old and jagged. Luca stepped into the glow of the neon sign, forcing his voice steady.
"I'm expected," he said
The guard let out a slow laugh. "You? You look like you crawled out of the sewer.
Luca smiled, though his heartbeat thundered. "I look exactly the way he wants me to look. Tell your boss the letter came from Palermo. He'll know."
For a moment, silence stretched like wire between them. The guard studied him, eyes narrowed, then pulled a phone from his pocket and muttered something in Italian. He listened, his face unreadable, then jerked his head toward the door.
"Inside," the guard said.
Luca swallowed hard and stepped past him.
The interior of Il Sogno Nero was sin dressed in velvet. Chandeliers dripped with crystal. The air carried smoke, perfume, and the faint metallic scent of blood beneath it all. Men in silk ties leaned over women in diamonds, and laughter covered the whispers of deals that could topple governments.
And at the center of it all sat Dante Moretti.
The king of the family.
Dante was younger than Luca expected, his body carved from strength, his face both beautiful and cruel. His dark eyes caught Luca immediately, like a hawk pinning prey. A glass of red wine rested in his hand, though it looked more like blood in the low light.
"So," Dante said when Luca was brought forward. His voice was smooth, dangerous, the kind of tone that made men kneel and women shiver. "The stray dog from the rain. Why are you at my gate?"
Luca's lips curved in a practiced smile. His lie was ready, honed razor-sharp.
"I'm here because I know something you don't. Something about your brother."
The room stilled. Laughter cut short. Every pair of eyes turned.
Dante set down his glass with care, though the silence was more terrifying than anger. "My brother," he said, voice low, "is dead."
Luca leaned forward, whispering, though he knew every man at the table would hear. "Not dead. Not to me. And not to the people who are using his name against you."
Dante's eyes narrowed, hunger and suspicion burning there. He stood, walking toward Luca with slow, deliberate steps. When he stopped, his breath was close enough to stir Luca's hair.
"If you are lying to me," Dante murmured, "I will cut the truth from your tongue. Inch by inch."
Luca met his gaze. He was terrified, but he did not look away. That was the trick with predators. Fear was weakness. Desire was power.
"Then let me prove it," he whispered.
Dante studied him for a long, dangerous moment. Then he smiled, sharp as a blade.
"You interest me, stranger. Tonight, you will drink at my table. Tomorrow, you will show me the truth. But remember this." His hand came up, fingers brushing Luca's throat, light but possessive. "If I find a single lie on your tongue, I will carve you open before the sun rises. And I promise you, it will hurt."
Luca's pulse raced. He forced a slow smile, though his body trembled with adrenaline.
"I would expect nothing less."
The night deepened. Glasses clinked. Music played. But at Dante's table, beneath the glitter and smoke, Luca had taken his first step into a kingdom of lies
He had crossed the gate. And now there was no way back.