Chapter 38: Chapter Thirty-seven

Two nights later, the night air outside was fresh and welcoming as Hunter’s sleek black car glided through the darkened streets. The slightly open tinted windows hid them from the world, wrapping Mirabella and Hunter in their own private silence as the city lights and people blurred past.

Hunter’s hand rested lazily on the steering wheel, his other arm stretched comfortably along the leather seat behind Mirabella. He was focused on the road. Too focused, or maybe he was in deep thought since his forehead folded a little. His presence and silence were both comforting. He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye and smiled faintly at the sight.

Mirabella sat with her chin pressed against the window, her fingers drawing idle shapes on the lightly fogged glass as she hummed some inaudible tune that he couldn’t quite recognize. Her hum was soft, distracted, almost as if she was far away in her own head.

“I want you to follow me somewhere tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice a low rumble that sliced through the quiet inside the car.

Mirabella didn’t even glance at him fully. She gave him the briefest look before going back to what she was doing; tracing shapes on the glass, her fingertip dragging a crooked heart into the faint mist.

“Did you hear me, Bella?” Hunter pressed, his tone still low and calm. “I need you to follow me somewhere.”

Her shoulders rose and fell with a soft sigh. “Where exactly?” she asked, still staring at the glass. Then her lips pressed into a frown. “Are you about to make me miss work again? Anyway, you are the boss.”

Hunter smirked, his gaze fixed on the road. “You are not missing work. You’ll accompany me, but it's still going to be at the club. We aren't… going out. Sort of.”

That earned him her attention. She turned her head and studied him closely, suspiciously narrowing her eyes. “Then why are you making it sound like we’re going somewhere far away? Away from the club.”

His lips twitched. “Do not change into your work outfit tonight. Make sure to follow me everywhere. Like my second skin.” His tone is low. “And don’t forget, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you twenty-four-seven.” He knew she was going to protest, so he was waiting for it.

Her brows knitted as she tilted her head at him. “Wait, is this about you keeping an eye on me?”

Hunter flicked her a sharp glance. His gaze was penetrating, as if he could see through the thin shield of her irritation. “That’s part of it,” he admitted. “But there’s more. I need you to see something tonight.”

Mirabella’s lips parted. Her stomach twisted in nervous curiosity. Hunter’s voice had dropped into that low register that meant he wasn’t just talking—he was declaring.

Hunter stared at her a little longer. He had never taken her to the underground part of the Devil’s Den. The place most people whispered about but never truly saw. It was designed for a more specific kind of people and for specific business operations. His empire had layers, and he had shielded her from some of the darkest ones. Until now.

Inside, he was restless. He knew she was only nineteen, still too young to be tangled in the kind of life he lived. Yet he couldn’t help himself. She belonged to him, body and soul, and if she was to stay in his world, she needed to see it all—his shadow, his chaos, his power. His whole world. Whether she got scared or tried to withdraw herself, didn’t matter. She would eventually accept it, because there was no other option. He needed her to know her place in his life and know that she holds a significant part of his being.

The car pulled up smoothly in front of the club. Devil’s Den stood tall and silent, its neon sign buzzing faintly in the night air. Unlike the usual buzzing chaos, the front was quiet since it wasn’t busy yet. The bouncers leaned lazily against the walls, their eyes sharp even in their relaxed state.

Before he could go around to open her door, Mirabella pushed the car door open and stepped out quickly, the cool air rushing over her.

“Wait up,” Hunter called, his tone sharp but threaded with amusement. Was she angry and giving him attitude?

She didn’t wait. She was already striding toward the entrance, her long hair bouncing against her back.

Hunter slipped his car key into the valet’s hand without looking, his eyes fixed on the stubborn girl who never seemed to listen. His lips quirked. Stubborn, but his.

Inside, the club was dimly lit, the faint scent of alcohol and leather already lingering in the air. Only a few men lingered at the bar, and the echo of footsteps traveled easily across the polished floors.

Mirabella froze when her eyes locked onto a familiar figure at the bar, his head tilted toward Mario, who poured him a drink. Her body stiffened instantly, her pulse skipping in her throat.

Hunter entered behind her, his tall frame radiating authority as his eyes scanned the room. He stopped beside her, catching the shift in her posture. His gaze followed hers.

At the bar, Ryan turned on his stool, sensing their presence. His gaze landed on Mirabella.

The wide grin that spread across his face was blinding. He jumped off the stool without hesitation and strode toward her, his arms opening wide.

“If it isn’t the lost but found friendship of mine,” Ryan exclaimed, his voice warm and full of familiarity. His hands stretched toward her for a hug.

But Hunter’s low, deliberate throat-clearing stopped him mid-motion.

Hunter stepped slightly in front of Mirabella, his broad chest an unmistakable barrier. His glare was sharp, predatory, daring Ryan to take another step closer.

Ryan blinked, finally noticing the man at her side. His eyes widened.

“Hunter Groves?” His voice cracked with shock.

Hunter’s lips curved into a slow smirk. “The very one.”

Ryan’s eyes darted between Hunter and Mirabella. “Mira…?” His voice carried questions, confusion, and disbelief.

Mirabella swallowed, suddenly caught in the heat of both their gazes. “Hey, Ryan,” she said softly. Her fingers twisted nervously at her side. “It’s… a long story.”

Ryan frowned but nodded. “Not one you can tell?”

Her lips curved faintly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Ryan said firmly. His gaze softened as it rested on her. “I went by your house, but you weren’t there. It seems odd too. It looks like you no longer live there. I figured the club was the only other place to find you.”

Mirabella’s lips parted slightly. Her chest ached with guilt.

Ryan leaned a little closer, though his eyes flicked warily toward Hunter. “We need to sit down. Talk. Just you and me.”

But Hunter’s presence was immovable. His shadow loomed over both of them, his eyes fixed on Ryan with a dark warning.

Ryan’s lips pressed together as he insisted, ignoring Hunter's sharp stare. “Could we get some privacy?” he asked carefully, his tone more a plea than a demand.

Mirabella let out a breath, glancing up at Hunter. His face was a blank stone. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t giving up even an inch and she knew.

She sighed and turned back to Ryan. “Ryan… whatever you need to say, you’ll have to say it with him here. He’s not going to leave.”

Minutes later, they sat at a table tucked in the far corner of the club. The air felt cooler here. The music was faint, a low bass thump from hidden speakers, but the silence between them was deafening.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t ignore the way Hunter’s eyes were pinned on him like a predator watching its prey. His hand fidgeted around his glass, tapping the rim before he finally spoke.

“Aria’s been worried sick about you,” he said, his gaze softening as it returned to Mirabella. “She says every time you talk on the phone, it feels like you’re hiding something. She thinks something’s wrong. So she asked me to come and see how you were doing.”

Mirabella’s throat tightened. Her heart pinched at the mention of her best friend. She wanted to beat herself up for keeping things from Aria, even Hilda. These were the only people who care about her and it kills her to keep things from them. She dropped her gaze, her voice quiet. “I’m fine. Really. And… I’ll explain everything to you soon. Just… not now.”

Ryan’s eyes searched her face. Worry was written all over his expression. He wanted to push, to ask, but something in her eyes stopped him. He exhaled slowly and nodded. “Okay. If you say so. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Don't keep everything bottled up.”

Mirabella's voice was low and pleading. “Please, Ryan. Don’t say anything to Aria yet. I don’t want her worrying about me. Please.”

Ryan hesitated, his eyes flickering with conflict. Finally, he gave a small nod.

“Alright, I won't say a thing,” he said softly. “But don't try to keep everything to yourself. We would all be here for you, ok?" He told her, casting Hunter a suspicious look.