The scent of copper and old stone hung in the air long after the body of the maid was removed by Dante's silent, grim-faced cleaners. Elara sat on the edge of the velvet bed, her body still humming from the remnants of Dante's touch, but her mind was a jagged landscape of terror. She looked down at her hands; they wouldn't stop shaking.
Dante entered the room, his black shirt unbuttoned halfway, exposing the pulse still hammering in his neck. He looked less like a billionaire and more like a warlord.
"Pack only what you need," he barked, his eyes scanning the room as if the shadows themselves were listening. "The Villa has been breached. If they can get a body into the fountain, they can get a blade to your throat while I'm sleeping."
"Where are we going?" Elara's voice was a ghost of itself.
"The Vault. It's a penthouse in the city center. Steel-reinforced, biometric locks, and thirty floors of my best men between us and the street." He stepped toward her, his presence instantly narrowing the world down to just the two of them. He cupped her cheek, his thumb dragging across her lower lip. "I won't let them have you, Elara. You're the only thing in this house that isn't stained."
They moved under the cover of a moonless sky. Dante pushed her into the back of a different armored SUV, one driven by Sloane. Elara felt a wave of nausea as she looked at the back of the Underboss's head. The way he had looked at her earlier—like she was a piece of meat—made the "paranormal" dread of the house feel almost clean by comparison.
The drive was silent. Dante kept a heavy hand on Elara's thigh, his fingers digging into her skin through her skirt. It was a grounding pressure, a reminder of his ownership, but she noticed his other hand never left the grip of his weapon.
As they reached the city and the car pulled into a private underground garage, Sloane turned around. The orange glow of the dashboard lights hit his scarred face, making him look like a demon from one of the "Circle's" twisted scriptures.
"Penthouse is cleared, Boss," Sloane rasped. "But the boys on the street... they're hearing whispers. The Circle is offering a bounty. Ten million for the girl. Alive and... 'pure,' they say."
Dante's grip on Elara's thigh tightened so hard she gasped. "The next man who says her name in this city dies. Is that understood, Sloane?"
"Crystal," Sloane replied, but his eyes lingered on Elara's chest, watching the way her breasts heaved under her thin coat.
They ascended the private elevator in a tense silence. The penthouse was a masterpiece of glass and cold, grey stone—a fortress in the sky. But as soon as the doors hissed shut, Elara collapsed against the wall.
"I can't do this, Dante," she sobbed. "I'm an architect. I draw lines on paper. I don't... I don't live in a world where girls are hung in fountains."
Dante was on her in an instant. He pinned her wrists above her head against the cool glass of the window, the city lights twinkling behind them like fallen stars. "You don't have a choice anymore. You saw their symbol. You know their work. If you leave me, they will find you within the hour. They will take you to one of their 'temples,' and you will pray for the death I can give you now."
His voice was harsh, but his body was reacting to her. He pressed his chest against hers, and Elara felt her breasts flatten against his hard pectorals. The friction, even through layers of clothing, sent a spark of electricity straight to her core. Despite the horror, her body was traitorously becoming a playground for his dominance again. Her pussy began to throb, a deep, rhythmic ache that made her want to wrap her legs around his waist and forget the blood on the fountain.
"Look at me," he commanded, his face inches from hers. "The Circle thinks they are holy. They think they are the hand of God. But I am the devil they forgot to bury. You stay with the devil, Elara. He's the only one who won't lie to you about the cost of your soul."
He leaned down, his mouth devouring hers in a kiss that tasted of desperation and salt. His hand slid down her body, bunching her skirt upward until he found the damp heat between her legs. He didn't use a finger; he used his whole palm, pressing upward with a force that made her cry out into his mouth.
"You're soaking," he groaned against her lips. "Even when you're terrified, you're wanting. You're a creature of hunger, Elara. Just like me."
He was about to tear her clothes away when a muffled sound came from the hallway outside. It was the sound of a struggle—a dull thud and the hiss of a silencer.
Dante reacted with the speed of a cobra. He shoved Elara into a panic room hidden behind a bookshelf and drew his gun. "Don't make a sound. Don't come out until you hear my voice."
Through a tiny crack in the bookshelf, Elara watched.
The door to the penthouse didn't burst open; it opened slowly. Sloane walked in. He wasn't alone. Behind him stood two men in the white robes of the "Holy" organization, their porcelain masks gleaming in the dim light.
"He's in the back," Sloane said, his voice devoid of the loyalty he had shown earlier. "Give me my cut, and you can have the girl. Just make sure I get ten minutes with her before you take her to the High Priest. I want to see if she screams as pretty as she looks."
Elara's heart stopped. The Stage 2 antagonist had sold them out. The man Dante trusted to guard his life was hand-delivering them to the organization that slaughtered innocents.
Dante stepped out from the shadows of the kitchen, his gun leveled at Sloane's chest. "I should have taken your eyes at the Villa, Sloane."
Sloane laughed, a disgusting, wet sound. "The Circle pays better than you, Dante. And they let me keep the trophies. You're yesterday's news. The 'Holy' are taking over the city, and they don't like competition."
The two masked men raised their weapons.
"Dante!" Elara screamed from behind the shelf, unable to stay silent as she saw the lasers line up on his chest.
The room erupted into violence.
Contract Note: This chapter cements the "Betrayal" trope and sets up the transition from Stage 1 (Corporate/Rival) to Stage 2 (Mafia/Underworld) villainy. By showing Sloane's disgusting perversion (wanting "ten minutes" with Elara), we heighten the reader's hatred for him and their desire for Dante to protect her.