Chapter Hundred-Five- Taunts in the dark
Chapter Hundred-Five- Taunts in the dark
The café was small, the kind where no one asked questions. Dante sat near the window, a black cap pulled low over his head. He didn’t touch his drink. Isabella sat across from him, scrolling through her phone, pretending they were just another couple trying to pass time.
It was supposed to be a quiet meeting. Marco had said the contact was “neutral.” Dante didn’t believe that for a second.
A tall man in a gray suit walked in, looking too polished for the setting. He scanned the room once, spotted Dante, and smiled. The kind of smile that carried trouble.
“There he is,” the man said, approaching their table. “The ghost king himself.”
Dante’s hand twitched near his jacket, but Isabella touched his wrist under the table. “Don’t,” she murmured.
The man sat without being invited, motioning for a waiter. “Coffee. Black. No sugar.” He looked back at Dante. “Still trying to blend in, I see. You can’t hide royalty, even under cheap clothes.”
“I’m not royalty anymore,” Dante said flatly.
“Right,” the man said with a grin. “You’re not. The Consortium made sure of that.”
The waiter brought the coffee. The envoy took a sip before leaning forward. “You’ve fallen hard, Deluca. How does it feel? To lose everything you built?”
“Better than working for men who hide behind others,” Dante said.
The man chuckled. “You always did think you were above everyone. But now you’re sitting here like a beggar. No guards, no throne, no name.”
Isabella frowned. “Why are you here?”
He turned his eyes to her. “Ah, the queen who refuses to leave her king. Touching.” He smirked. “I wonder how long that will last.”
“Careful,” Dante warned.
“Relax,” the envoy said, raising his hands slightly. “I’m just here to deliver a message. The Consortium has decided to make peace—sort of.”
Dante didn’t react. “Meaning?”
“Meaning they don’t need to kill you. You’re already dead, in every way that matters. But they do enjoy watching you crawl.”
Isabella crossed her arms. “You came all this way to say that?”
“Not exactly.” The man leaned closer. “They wanted me to remind you that the people you care about are never truly yours. Not your sister, not your allies…” His eyes flicked toward Isabella. “…and not even her.”
Isabella’s jaw clenched, but she stayed silent.
Dante’s voice was calm, too calm. “If you mention her again, you’ll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life.”
The envoy laughed softly. “See? There’s the man they once feared. But anger won’t save her. You think love can survive what’s coming?”
“What’s coming?” Dante asked.
The man smirked. “A test. Let’s see how strong your bond really is when the Consortium decides to… offer her something better.”
Dante stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. Everyone in the café turned for a second, then looked away when they saw his expression. Isabella rose too, trying to pull him back down.
“Dante, stop,” she said quietly.
He ignored her, leaning forward over the table. “If you or your masters ever touch her, I’ll—”
“Kill me?” the envoy interrupted. “I know. You’re very predictable.”
Dante’s hand twitched again, but Isabella stepped between them. “Enough. He’s not worth it.”
The envoy smirked at her. “Oh, I’m worth plenty, sweetheart. The Consortium pays well for loyalty.”
She glared. “Loyalty or fear?”
He laughed again, standing. “Same thing in our world.” He buttoned his jacket and looked at Dante one last time. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Deluca. The next time we meet, you might not have her beside you.”
He walked away slowly, leaving the faint smell of expensive cologne behind.
Dante stood still for a few seconds, fists clenched. Isabella reached for him again. “He’s trying to provoke you.”
“It worked,” he said through his teeth.
“Then don’t give him what he wants,” she said firmly.
He finally exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “They’re watching us, Isabella. Every move.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why we keep moving.”
Dante picked up the photo of Giulia and Geneva from the table, folding it carefully and sliding it into his pocket. “They want to play games? Fine. But next time, I’ll set the rules.”
Isabella looked around the café. “We should go before someone else shows up.”
“Yeah,” Dante muttered, tossing a few bills on the table. “Let’s go.”
They walked out into the narrow street. The rain had stopped, but the ground was wet. Dante put his cap back on, scanning the crowd. A street vendor called out about roasted chestnuts nearby, and Isabella stopped briefly.
“Do you want some?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not hungry.”
“You never are,” she said, buying a small bag anyway. “Here. Eat. You’ll pass out before you even get to the next safehouse.”
He took one reluctantly. “Happy now?”
“Almost,” she said. “When you stop thinking about killing every person we meet, then I’ll be happy.”
He glanced at her. “Not going to happen.”
“Didn’t think so.” She smiled faintly.
They walked a bit further before she stopped again. “You think they’ll really try to get to me?”
“Yes,” he said honestly.
She nodded slowly. “Then they’ll fail.”
Dante looked at her, his expression softening. “Don’t underestimate them.”
“I’m not,” she said. “But I’ve been with you too long to be scared of men who hide behind fancy suits.”
He couldn’t help it — he almost smiled. “You really are stubborn.”
“Took you long enough to notice,” she said.
They reached the car parked at the corner. Dante opened the door for her, then paused when he noticed a piece of paper tucked under the wiper. He unfolded it, scanning the single sentence written there:
“A king without a throne still bleeds the same.”
His jaw tightened again. Isabella leaned over to read it. “They’re watching us closer than we thought.”
He crumpled the paper. “Good. Then they’ll see what’s coming.”
As they drove off, a man sitting across the street lowered his phone, sending a message.
> TARGET MOVING SOUTH. CONTACT MADE.
He watched the car disappear down the narrow road, then slipped into the crowd.
\---
Later that night, in a dim room somewhere across the city, the same envoy poured himself another drink. A woman’s voice came from behind him.
“Did he take the bait?”
He smiled without turning around. “Of course. Deluca’s pride is predictable. And soon, he’ll doubt the only person keeping him sane.”
The woman stepped closer, her face hidden in the shadows. “And the girl?”
“She’ll see soon enough,” he said. “The Consortium doesn’t just break empires. We break the people who built them.”
He took another sip, satisfied.
Outside, thunder rolled.
And somewhere far away, Dante’s phone buzzed again — another unknown message lighting up the screen.
Cliffhanger: “She’ll leave you soon, Deluca. They all do.”