The night outside Mercato del Muerte had nothing to offer. Shadows slithered through the alleys, and the air smelled faintly of wet asphalt and iron. But inside, the underground bazaar thrummed with life—life of the kind that could ruin you in an instant.
Matthew DelaCroix moved silently through the main floor, the faint click of his polished shoes drowned by the murmur of deals and whispered threats. His tailored black coat trailed behind him like smoke, and every person in the vicinity instinctively knew to step aside. He wasn't just a man; he was a storm contained in a suit, and every storm left destruction in its wake.
Tonight, though, there was an anomaly in his carefully ordered world.
Vinny Rossi.
Vinny hadn't left. Matthew could feel it—the alpha signature of a man who didn't respect rules, didn't fear consequences, didn't know when to walk away. And that particular signature was dangerously bright.
Matthew's eyes scanned the crowd, and there he was: Vinny, leaning against a pillar, casually flipping a dagger in his hand, grin sharp enough to cut. Like a predator testing the waters of another predator's territory.
Matthew allowed himself a slow, deliberate exhale.
Interesting.
"Matthew." The word was low, casual—spoken behind him.
He didn't need to turn. He already knew the voice, smooth and confident, dangerously familiar. Kieran Hale had found his way onto the floor again, sipping from a crystal glass as though he were attending a gala instead of standing in a den of vipers.
"You let him wander freely?" Kieran asked, eyes glinting with amusement. "I thought this was your domain, King DelaCroix."
Matthew's lips twitched. "I let him wander because I want to see how long he lasts before realizing he doesn't belong here."
Kieran smirked. "And how long do you give him?"
Matthew's gaze swept the room, landing on Vinny once more. "Until he either dies or entertains me."
Vinny didn't wait for a proper introduction. He approached Matthew's office—the elevated space above the main trading floor where only the king himself and his closest lieutenants were allowed. The guards at the entrance stiffened the moment they saw him, but Matthew's wave of a hand was enough.
Vinny stepped past without hesitation, his grin teasing, almost taunting.
"You really do like to make your men nervous," he said lightly. "It's… charming."
Matthew didn't answer immediately. He observed, still seated behind the large mahogany desk, fingers drumming faintly against its polished surface. Pale green eyes measured Vinny like a surgeon inspecting a patient before cutting.
"You're alive," Matthew said finally. "That's surprising."
Vinny shrugged, leaning against the doorway. "I'm a fast learner. And, clearly, a lucky one."
Matthew's gaze sharpened. "Lucky men often die before they see another sunrise."
Vinny smiled wider. "Then I guess I'd better make tonight count."
Matthew rose slowly, moving toward Vinny with that predator grace he always carried. Each step echoed faintly, deliberate, precise, a silent warning to anyone watching. Vinny didn't flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, curiosity shining in his eyes.
"You're dangerous," Vinny said, voice low, teasing. "I like dangerous men."
Matthew stopped just inches from him, the faintest trace of heat radiating from his body, enough to make the air feel heavier, tighter. He could smell the faint notes of Vinny's cologne, a mix of spice and leather, and it stirred something primal in him.
"And you," Matthew said quietly, "are either very foolish—or very bold."
Vinny's smirk didn't falter. "Why choose? I can be both."
Matthew leaned closer, tilting his head just slightly, so their eyes locked. "Bold men die quickly in my world, Rossi. And foolish men are worse."
Vinny's laugh was soft, dangerously close to a challenge. "Then consider me your entertainment, King DelaCroix. Teach me your rules. Show me how fast I can fall—and maybe how hard."
For a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist. Two alphas, drawn together by instinct, ambition, and the unspoken desire to dominate. Neither would submit easily. Neither could.
Matthew finally spoke, voice low and deliberate: "Do you understand what you're stepping into?"
Vinny leaned closer, letting his hand brush against Matthew's desk—a casual, calculated touch. "I understand exactly where I am. And I understand exactly who I'm dealing with."
Matthew's pulse quickened—just slightly, imperceptibly. He hated that Vinny's confidence had an effect on him. Hated that he wanted to see what the man would do next.
"You're playing a dangerous game," Matthew said, pulling back just enough to regain control. "One wrong move, and you'll regret it."
Vinny's eyes sparkled. "Regret is part of the fun, isn't it?"
Matthew's hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to reach out, push Vinny against the desk, make him understand exactly who was in charge. But he didn't. Not yet. The game had just begun, and every master knew the best victories were drawn out, slow, precise.
Vinny, of course, had no such restraint. He leaned in just a little closer, daring, teasing, almost like he wanted to provoke Matthew into losing control.
The tension between them hummed in the air. Invisible to anyone else in Mercato del Muerte, yet palpable, suffocating, magnetic.
Kieran's voice came from the doorway, cutting through the haze.
"You two should be careful. A spark like this could start a fire no one survives."
Vinny tilted his head, grin wide. "Then let it burn."
Matthew's jaw tightened. He had no idea whether he wanted to kill Vinny or claim him—maybe both. And that uncertainty was intoxicating, maddening, and impossible to ignore.
The first contact had been made. The first challenge had been issued. And already, the black market was holding its breath.
Because everyone knew… when two alphas collided in Matthew DelaCroix's world, the fallout would be violent, erotic, and unforgettable.
Vinny didn't move away when Matthew stepped closer. He didn't even flinch when the faint scent of Matthew's cologne—dark leather, bitter smoke, and a hint of something sharp—hit him like a punch. He leaned in, deliberately, teasing. Every instinct screamed for caution. Every thought whispered danger. And yet, he smiled.
Matthew's pale green eyes narrowed. He could see the arrogance, the thrill of defiance, burning in Vinny's gaze. And that defiance… it was intoxicating.
"You don't get to be this bold," Matthew said, voice low, almost dangerous, yet smooth like velvet over steel.
Vinny tilted his head, letting the shadow of his grin deepen. "And you don't get to be this… magnetic. But somehow, you are."
The words were casual, playful, but underneath them was a challenge. A dare.
Matthew stepped even closer, enough that Vinny could feel the heat radiating from him. A dangerous, predator heat—one that could consume a man if he let it. And Vinny… he wanted to let it.
"You have no idea what you're playing with," Matthew murmured.
"I think I do," Vinny replied, leaning against the edge of the desk so casually it made him seem untouchable. "I like dangerous games."
Matthew's lips twitched—just the slightest lift of one side. He was amused, irritated, and intrigued all at once. That one smirk, so faint it could be mistaken for nothing, made Vinny's pulse jump.
"You're reckless," Matthew said, circling around the desk slowly, eyes never leaving Vinny's. "And I… don't forgive reckless."
"Good," Vinny said softly. "I don't need forgiveness. I need attention."
Matthew's hand twitched near his coat pocket, close to where his dagger rested—a reminder of the silent rules of Mercato del Muerte. Every person here knew death could be as casual as a handshake.
Vinny smirked. "Careful… you're making me want to test your limits."
And in that instant, Matthew's restraint faltered—just slightly, imperceptibly.
He leaned down, the faintest brush of his hand against Vinny's wrist, enough to make the other man's stomach flutter. That touch was a warning and a claim, subtle but electric.
Vinny's breath hitched ever so slightly, a reaction he immediately masked with a cocky tilt of his chin. "Careful," he whispered. "Touch me again, and I might not survive it… in more ways than one."
Matthew's jaw tightened. Dangerous, defiant, intoxicating—Vinny was all of it, and Matthew hated that it made him feel alive. Alive in a way only chaos could.
The office seemed to shrink around them. The noise of the market below faded, leaving only the tension, heavy and suffocating, between two alpha predators circling each other.
Vinny let his hand linger on the edge of the desk, close to Matthew, just to tease him. "I can see it, you know," he said, low and sultry. "The way you want to control me. The way you want to break me. And… I want to see if you can."
Matthew froze, even for the briefest moment. That single challenge, spoken so casually, so daringly, lit a fire in him he hadn't felt in years.
"You're playing with fire," Matthew warned, voice deeper now, edged with steel. "And fire can burn even the strongest men alive."
Vinny leaned closer, until their chests nearly brushed. "Then burn me, King DelaCroix. Show me exactly how hot your fire is."
Matthew's pulse quickened—not enough to show, but enough that Vinny felt it. The audacity of this man, the sheer boldness—it was maddening, and it made Matthew's hands itch to dominate, to control, to claim.
Vinny tilted his head, grin sharp, his green eyes glittering like emerald fire. "You're dying to touch me, aren't you?"
Matthew's lips twitched, barely resisting a smirk. He was so close now, the heat from his body radiating into Vinny's, dangerous and intoxicating. "One wrong move, and you won't like the consequences."
Vinny's laugh was soft, throaty, seductive. "And one right move… and I might just melt under you."
For a heartbeat, Matthew imagined pressing Vinny against the desk, taking control, showing him exactly what dominance meant. The thought was intoxicating. Forbidden. Dangerous.
And yet… he didn't. Not yet. The tension, the teasing, the chase—it was far too delicious to end so quickly.
Instead, Matthew leaned back just slightly, letting the air between them sizzle with unspoken promises. "You're insufferable," he said softly, but with a weight that made Vinny shiver.
Vinny leaned in one last time, voice low, almost a whisper. "And you… are irresistible."
The words hung between them like a spark in dry brush. Any careless move could ignite it. And Matthew? He was very aware of how close they were to losing control.
From the corner of his eye, Kieran Hale's smirk widened. "Oh, they're going to ruin each other. And I can't wait to watch."
Vinny's grin turned wicked. "Then maybe we'll do it right here. Right now. You… me… rules be damned."
Matthew's pale green eyes flickered with a dangerous fire. He didn't move closer, but he didn't step back either. Every inch of restraint he had was stretched taut, waiting for the exact moment he would decide whether Vinny was a threat… or something he could never resist.
The air was heavy, charged, dripping with desire and danger. Every man, every woman in Mercato del Muerte could feel it—the silent pull of two alphas circling, teasing, dominating, drawn together by instinct and desire.
Vinny's heartbeat quickened. So did Matthew's. Both of them knew this encounter could end in destruction—or something far hotter, far more addictive.
The first real game had begun.
And neither of them would survive it unscathed.