Valentina's POV:
The soft jazz and golden lights of The Onyx usually had a way of melting away any worries, but tonight, they only seemed to amplify the unease that had settled over Valentina. Marco was trying, she knew he was, but his smiles were strained, and his eyes kept darting around the room as if expecting something. The conversation flowed awkwardly, punctuated by long silences that even the clinking of silverware couldn't fill.
"I just need to powder my nose," Valentina said, pushing back her chair with a forced smile. "I'll be right back."
She navigated through the tables, the whispers of other diners a soft hum in her ears. The ladies' room was empty, thankfully. She splashed cool water on her face, hoping to wash away the lingering anxiety. As she reached for a paper towel, the overhead lights flickered, then plunged the room into a sudden, inky darkness.
A gasp escaped her lips, and then, a familiar scent—musk and something subtly dangerous—enveloped her. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her flush against a hard chest. Her breath hitched. She didn't need to see to know.
"Dante," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The name felt like a secret, a forbidden word on her tongue.
His lips brushed against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Did you really think you could escape me, Valentina? ¿Pensaste que podrías escapar de mí?" His voice was a low rumble, possessive and dangerous. (Did you truly believe that this man could ever take my place?)
She struggled harder, twisting within his grasp. "What are you doing here? Why did you come back? We're over! You have no right—"
"No right?" He chuckled, a dark, unsettling sound. "Everything about you is mine, Valentina. Every breath, every thought, every beat of your heart. Why him? Why choose someone so… unremarkable? So safe?"
Valentina pushed against him with all her might, her voice rising. "Let me go! I chose him because he's good, he's kind, and he doesn't manipulate me or try to control my life! I don't want you in my life anymore!"
His grip tightened, almost painfully. "You are mine. And this time, Valentina, I will take you with me. No hay otra opción." (There is no other option.) He pulled her closer still, his face buried in her hair. "Foolish girl. You don't understand. Safety is an illusion. And kindness… it's a weakness. He tried to take what belonged to me. A grave mistake."
Valentina braced herself, ready to use the Taekwondo move Isabella had taught her, but Dante anticipated her. In one swift motion, he lifted her effortlessly and settled her on the counter, pinning her with his body. Her legs dangled, useless.
His eyes, even in the dimness, burned with an intensity that stole her breath. He lowered his head, and his lips, warm and insistent, found her collarbone. A gasp tore from her throat as he pressed a lingering kiss there, a brand.
"Remember this, Valentina," he murmured against her skin, his voice laced with a chilling promise. "If any other man dares to stand between us, I will give him a slow death. A very slow, very painful death. You are mine."
The lights flickered back on, blinding her for a moment. When her vision cleared, Dante was gone. The empty room seemed to mock her, the lingering scent of him a cruel reminder of his presence. She touched her collarbone, a phantom ache where his lips had been.
Valentina stumbled out of the restroom, the lingering scent of Dante and the chilling memory of his words clinging to her like a shroud. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, trying to push the image of his burning eyes from her mind. He was gone. He had to be.
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She forced herself to walk, not run, back to their table. The soft jazz and gentle clinking of silverware seemed to mock the turmoil raging inside her. As she approached, her eyes fixed on the empty chair. Marco's chair.
It was vacant.
A cold dread seeped into her bones, far colder than the air conditioning. His jacket was still draped over the back, a napkin crumpled beside his water glass, but Marco himself was gone. Not at the bar, not talking to someone, just... gone.
A wave of nausea washed over her. Dante. It had to be him. His threats, his possessiveness, the unsettling calm in his voice. He had done something. He said he would "dismantle" Marco, make him "unravel."
"Marco?" she whispered, her voice cracking. She scanned the elegant restaurant, her gaze darting from face to face, but he was nowhere. The waiters moved serenely, the other diners laughed softly, completely oblivious to the terror seizing her.
Frantically, Valentina fumbled for her phone in her clutch. Her fingers trembled as she pulled it out and dialed Marco's number. It rang once, twice, then went straight to voicemail. "The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable."
She tried again. The same automated message. Unreachable.
A frantic energy surged through her. She couldn't just sit there. She couldn't wait. Marco was in danger. Dante had warned her.
Without another thought, Valentina pushed past the tables, ignoring the curious glances. She needed to find him. She needed help. Her mind raced, sifting through the chaos of her thoughts. The police. She had to go to the police. Even if they didn't believe her about Dante, she could at least report Marco missing.
Outside the restaurant, the city lights blurred as tears pricked her eyes. She hailed the first taxi she saw, her voice strained as she gave the address of the nearest police station.
The ride was a blur of flashing streetlights and her own spiraling fear. When the taxi finally pulled up, she practically fell out, rushing into the brightly lit station.
A tired-looking officer behind the desk looked up, his expression neutral.
"I need to report a missing person," Valentina blurted out, her voice breathless, her hands clenching and unclenching. "My boyfriend, Marco Rossi. He was with me at The Onyx restaurant, and then... he just disappeared."
She took a shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to sound coherent. "And... I think I know who might be responsible. His name is Dante. He... he threatened Marco. He's dangerous. He's very powerful." She swallowed hard, the words tumbling out. "He said he would make Marco 'unravel' because Marco was... with me." Her voice trailed off, the full weight of Dante's chilling declaration settling upon her once more. "He said if any other man came between us, he would give him a slow death."
The officer listened, his pen poised over a pad. As Valentina spoke the name "Dante," a visible tremor went through him. His eyes widened slightly, and the color seemed to drain from his face. He quickly averted his gaze, as if the name itself was too dangerous to acknowledge directly. He knew. The stark realization hit Valentina with the force of a punch – he knew exactly who Dante was.
He cleared his throat, pulling himself upright with a forced rigidity. "Excuse me for a moment, ma'am," he said, his voice a strained whisper. He pushed back from the desk with a jolt and practically scurried to a quiet corner, pulling out his phone. He kept his back to her, speaking in hushed, urgent tones, his body language tense and coiled. Valentina strained to hear, catching only fragments: "Dante... yes... problem... she's here..."
When the officer returned, his face was carefully composed, but his eyes, though avoiding hers, held a desperate wariness. He pulled a chair from an empty desk, placing it across from her at the counter.
"Please, have a seat, ma'am," he said, his tone softer now, almost deferential. He then reached for a water cooler and poured her a cup, placing it gently before her. "This must be very upsetting for you. Take your time. No rush."
He sat down, picking up his pen, but he didn't immediately start writing again. Instead, he started asking a series of seemingly innocuous questions, his eyes flitting around the room, anywhere but directly at her. "So, you said The Onyx? Lovely restaurant. Have you been there before? And Marco, how long have you two been together? Are you students? What are you studying?"
He was talking, clearly trying to fill the silence, trying to keep her occupied. Valentina answered, her voice tight, confused by this sudden shift. She just wanted to report Marco missing, to explain about Dante, but he was asking about her major. For five excruciating minutes, he continued, asking about her hometown, her favorite classes, almost anything to keep her distracted from the immediate danger. It was a bizarre, almost frantic attempt to waste time.
Just as Valentina was about to demand an explanation for his strange behavior, a sudden, low hum vibrated through the floor. The lights in the station flickered, then brightened, as if reacting to an external power surge. Valentina instinctively looked towards the glass doors at the station's entrance.
Through the glass, the street outside transformed. Headlights, not just one or two, but a dozen or more black, expensive cars were slowly, deliberately driving down the street. They moved in an intimidating formation, their sleek, dark forms reflecting the city's neon glow like polished obsidian. Their powerful engines purred, a low, collective growl that seemed to swallow all other ambient noise. Her heart pounded, a frantic drum against her ribs.
The cars moved with chilling precision, slowing as they approached the police station. One by one, they glided to a halt directly in front of the building, forming a silent, unyielding perimeter. The last of them stopped, its engine humming, and then, in a synchronized, unnerving motion, the rear doors of several vehicles swung open.
From within, bulky men in dark, identical uniforms emerged. They were built like brick walls, each one a formidable presence. Though no guns were openly displayed, their hands rested casually, almost possessively, on the precise lines of their jackets. Their eyes, like shadows, scanned the police station, their presence alone a stark declaration of power. One of them, even larger than the rest, moved with deliberate slowness towards the head car, reaching for its gate.
The officer behind the desk saw it all. His face went utterly ashen, his eyes wide with a primal terror that confirmed everything Valentina had suspected. He stopped talking abruptly, his forced questions dying on his lips. His gaze was fixed on the impending arrival outside, a man clearly beyond the reach of any law he swore to uphold.
As the uniformed man's hand closed around the gleaming door handle, the truth solidified in Valentina's mind, colder and sharper than any fear: She swallowed hard, a chilling realization settling deep in her bones—this was only the beginning. The real danger hadn't just arrived.