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The world spun as Felix was thrown to the ground, the cold, hard floor of the bar connecting with his bruised and battered body. He curled up instinctively, protecting himself as much as possible from the relentless onslaught of kicks and blows raining down upon him. Each strike sent waves of pain through him, but he refused to cry out.
"Are we gonna kill him?" one man asked, his voice gruff and filled with menace.
Felix's heart raced, his fear intensifying at the prospect of his own death. But another man crouched down beside him, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and yanking his head up. The man's eyes were cold and calculating as he assessed Felix's battered face.
"Killing's a pain in the ass," the man drawled. "Leaves too much evidence. We'll just take him instead. Some men like pretty boys."
Felix's stomach churned.
The men laughed, their amusement a sickening sound that seemed to echo around the room. Rough hands hauled Felix to his feet, dragging him towards the basement door. His legs felt weak, but he forced himself to stay on his feet, each step a battle against the pain coursing through him.
As they threw him into the lit basement, his eyes met Luna's wide, terrified gaze. She rushed towards him, her small frame throwing itself into his arms as she sobbed apologies.
"Sorry, Felix... I didn't mean... I'm so sorry..."
He held her tightly, his heart aching as he tried to offer comfort. "Listen to me," he murmured to Luna, his voice low and urgent. "We're going to find a way out of here. I won't let anything happen to you."
They weren't alone. There were other girls in the basement with them, huddled together in the shadows. Their eyes darted between Felix and the door above them. He could see their desperation, their hopelessness.
As the basement door slammed shut, a heavy weight seemed to descend upon the room. The air was thick with tension, but Felix held onto the one thing that had brought him this far: his unwavering love for his sister and the fierce desire to protect her at all costs.
The heavy footsteps above echoed through the basement, a cruel reminder of the danger lurking just beyond the door. Felix's heart raced as he held Luna close, her quiet sobs shaking his own bruised body. He could feel the other girls' eyes on him, looking to him as their unlikely savior. The weight of their expectations bore down on him, fueling the fire that burned within.
Felix fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone, wincing at the pain that shot through his battered fingers. His thumb hovered over Dante's name, hesitating for a moment before tapping it frantically. 'Need help', he typed, the words a desperate plea, a silent prayer that Dante would come through for them.
Please, he thought, his heart pounding in his chest,please let me be wrong about you.
Chapter eleven
Themoonhunglowand heavy in the sky, casting a soft glow over the cobblestone streets. Dante stood tall and imposing, his leather jacket creaking as he tightened his grip on the collar of his prey.
The rival gang member's legs dangled uselessly above the ground, his face contorted in pain. Around the two of them, Romeo, Aurelio, and Matteo were busy dispatching the remaining thugs.
"Listen closely," Dante growled, his voice dripping with menace, "Stay out of our territory, or next time it won't just be a warning." He threw the gang leader down onto the cold pavement, the impact echoing through the desolate alleyway. The man struggled to his feet and scurried away, leaving the rest of his crew behind.
"With these rat-fuck amateurs moving in, this city is going to shit," Dante grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration.
"Boss, we're done here," Romeo said, snapping Dante out of his reverie. "What do you want us to do with them?"
"Send them scurrying back with a message," Dante replied, his gaze never leaving the dark horizon. "If they step foot on Thorne territory again, they'll regret it."
"Understood," Romeo nodded before barking orders at Aurelio and Matteo.
As Dante walked away from the chaos of the fight, heading back to his car, his hand clenched into a tight fist, knuckles turning white. The cool night air felt like a cold slap to his face, emphasizing the emptiness he felt inside.
It used to be that he lived for this shit. Breaking skulls, protecting the family turf: he was good at what he did.
Now, though, his thoughts kept drifting.
Felix's big dark eyes, expressive vulnerabile. Felix's body against his, desperate and open for him.
The hurt in Felix's eyes when Dante had got out his wallet.
He cursed himself for being such an idiot. It was supposed to be a gesture of support, of protection. Every instinct in his body wanted to spoil Felix, to provide for him, to see his face light up with pleasure instead of being lined with stress.
Instead, all he'd managed was to make Felix feel like a whore.
This is why he didn't do that romance shit.
