Chapter 19 Dante
Elemental Veil pulsed like a living beast—violet lights crawling up the columns, deep red shadows licking over the glossy floors like flame. Normally, the ambiance settled me.
Tonight?
It fed every flicker of irritation slithering under my skin.
Lucian walked beside me, hands tucked in his pockets, head tilted the way he did whenever he sensed murder in my stride.
“So,” he said lightly, “which idiot am I helping you hide tonight?”
He didn’t have to wait long.
The manager spotted me from across the floor—his smarmy smile collapsing instantly. He stiffened, like a rabbit who’d just realized the shadow overhead wasn’t a cloud.
Before he could form a greeting, I caught him by the collar and hauled him away from the podium. His shoes squeaked across the marble, his breath wheezing in panic.
Lucian followed and quietly shut the storage room door behind us with a soft click.
The manager stumbled against a crate, gasping for breath. “M-Mr. Vescari, sir—please—”
“You know exactly why you’re here,” I said, voice flat.
He gulped. “Sir—I—I didn’t—”
I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen, and held it between us.
Seraphine’s picture glowed back at him—the one she’d texted me. Her hand gripping the VIP card he’d given her.
The back stamping unmistakable.
VOID.
The blood drained from his face.
“I—I swear,” he stammered. “I didn’t know she was… important.”
I stepped closer.
He retreated until the crates pinned him in.
“Try again,” I murmured.
He trembled. “She—sir, she looked like someone who wouldn’t… fit the atmosphere upstairs. You know—those areas are for… a certain type of guest—”
Lucian snorted. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
“A certain type,” I repeated. “And what type is that?”
The manager swallowed. “The… slimmer type. More refined. More… put-together women. Women who don’t…” He made a face. “Stand out for the wrong reasons.”
My eyebrow lifted. “The wrong reasons?”
He flinched. “The clothes she wore—sir, I’m sorry, but she was spilling out of them. I didn’t want complaints. Men come here for beauty. Elegance. Not—” He gestured vaguely, his lip curling. “Not that.”
Lucian let out a low whistle. “He has no idea how dead he is.”
My voice didn’t rise, but the air in the room heated.
“You’re saying,” I murmured, “that she wasn’t worthy of the space I designed.”
“N-No!” the manager cried. “She just—she didn’t belong. If I let women like her walk around with VIP access, it ruins the aesthetic. It lowers the class. I mean—come on, boss—she looked like a woman who’d devour dessert before dinner—”
My hand was on him before he finished.
I caught his shoulder, squeezing—not painfully. Not yet.
“And that’s why you gave her a VOID card?”
He nodded weakly. “Y-Yes. I didn’t want guests complaining. I mean, who wants to see—”
Lucian laughed under his breath. “He’s digging his grave with a backhoe.”
The manager kept going, oblivious.
“Women like her should stay downstairs,” he said. “Better for everyone. Plus-sized women just don’t fit the luxury vibe. Seeing all that fat jiggling—”
That was enough.
A low, instinctive rumble rose in my chest—a dragon’s warning, quiet but lethal.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice.
“You insulted my guest. You made her feel unwelcome in my territory. You judged her body. You disrespected her presence.”
His mouth opened.
“Sir—please, it’s not personal—”
“It is now.”
My hand slid from his shoulder to the side of his neck.
He froze.
“No—wait—sir—”
One controlled movement.
A precise twist.
A soft, final snap.
His body jerked once in my grip before collapsing, sliding lifelessly against the crates.
Lucian raised his brows. “Efficient.”
I wiped my hand on a rag, my pulse steady, heat simmering beneath my skin.
“He insulted her’s shape. Her presence. Her worth.” My jaw tightened. “He mocked a woman under my protection.”
Lucian nudged the body with his boot. “He mocked the wrong woman, clearly. You snapped his neck like a breadstick.”
“She deserved respect,” I said simply. “He gave her contempt.”
“And you gave him a chiropractic adjustment that ended his career,” Lucian said dryly.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I pulled my phone out again.
The photo Seraphine sent stared up at me—her standing in the streetlamp glow, holding the VOID card like she wanted to throw it at my head.
Something unfamiliar and sharp tugged inside my chest.
Lucian watched my expression shift.
“Oh, gods,” he said slowly. “You’re obsessed.”
“I am not.”
“You killed a man because he fat-shamed her for ten seconds.”
“He fat-shamed her on my property. That’s different.”
Lucian laughed. “Ah yes, the classic ‘it’s not obsession, it’s territorial justice.’ Very king-of-fire of you.”
I ignored him, sliding my phone back into my pocket and stepping over the manager’s body.
Lucian opened the door and followed me out, still chuckling.
But we only walked a few steps before my phone buzzed again.
I checked the screen.
Another message.
From her.
Lucian hovered over my shoulder. “Is it another ‘fuck you’?”
The image loaded.
A grainy photo taken from across the street.
A picture of me entering my own club with Lucian.
Timestamp: fifteen minutes ago.
Lucian grinned like a wolf. “Ohhh, she’s watching you too.”
A quiet, dark warmth unfurled in my chest.
Possessive.
Satisfied.
Hungry.
For the first time tonight…
the fire under my skin eased.
Just a little.
And gods help me—
I wanted more.
My thumb hovered for only a second before I typed out a reply.
You shouldn’t watch a man the way you watch me.
It makes him think you want him to come find you.
I hit send.
Lucian groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Oh, that’s subtle. Terrifying, but subtle.”
I ignored him, staring at my screen.
Waiting.
Because if Seraphine Vale wanted to play this game with me?
I’d play it.
And I’d win.
My phone buzzed again.
Her message lit the screen.
Relax, Vescari.
I’m not “watching you” the way you think.
I’m watching because you’re the only thread I have left in a case full of dead ends and missing women.
If that makes you uncomfortable, good.
Maybe you’ll stop lurking in shadows and actually tell me something useful.
Sleep tight.
I’ll be watching where you move next.
For professional reasons, of course.
Lucian leaned over my shoulder, eyes wide.
“Damn. She turned it around on you.”
But inside me?
A slow, dangerous spark caught fire.
Professional reasons.
Sure.
We’d see how long that excuse lasted.