Page 35 of Impure Vows

"Raise," I say, pushing a stack of chips into the center of the table. The others groan, some folding, others matching my bet. Tony smirks, always the showman.

"You sure about that, Dante? Feeling lucky tonight?"

"Luck has nothing to do with it," I reply, my eyes locking onto his. "It's all about skill and knowing your opponent."

Tony laughs, shaking his head. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

As the game progresses, I feel Aliyah's eyes on me, her fear mingling with a reluctant fascination. I lean over, my lips brushing her ear. "Watch closely, Aliyah. This is how you win."

Her breath catches, and she nods, her attention shifting to the game. The room fades away, the smoke, the laughter, the tension. It's just me, the cards, and the thrill of the hunt.

I keep my eyes on the cards, but my mind's split between the game and Aliyah. She's sipping her drink like it's her last, eyesdarting around the room, taking in every detail. The men here laugh and joke like murder's just another Tuesday night. Hell, for us, it is.

Her discomfort amuses me.

Tony throws in his chips with a grin. "Think you can handle the heat, Dante?"

"Heat?" I snort. "You boys don't even know what that is."

Aliyah shifts beside me, her body tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. I catch her glancing at Vinny, who's laughing uproariously about the last guy he 'took care of.' She has no idea that Vinny's laugh means someone's now part of the foundation of some new building. Her eyes widen in realization, and she grips her glass tighter, knuckles turning white.

"Aliyah," I say, my voice low and commanding, slicing through the din of the room. She jumps slightly, then turns to face me, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. "Enjoying the company?"

"Not really," she mutters, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. "But I don't have much choice, do I?"

I chuckle, a dark, amused sound. "Smart girl. No, you don't," I say, leaning in closer. "But you'll get used to it."

Tony eyes her, then me. "She's got spirit. I like that."

"Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself, Tony," I warn, my voice a low growl. My gaze never leaves Aliyah. She's tense, gripping her glass like it's a lifeline, her knuckles a stark white against the dark wood of the table. "She's mine. Don't forget it."

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk infuriating. "Hey, no disrespect. Just making an observation."

"Make fewer observations," I snap, throwing my cards down with a force that sends a couple of chips skittering. "Fold." The room falls silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I lean back, eyes narrowing at Tony, daring him to push further.

The game continues, and Aliyah keeps scanning the room. Her fear is palpable, a sharp contrast to the relaxed demeanor of the men around her. It's intoxicating. I lean closer, my hand resting on her knee. She stiffens but doesn't pull away.

"What's going through that pretty little head of yours?" I ask, my voice soft but menacing.

"I... I'm just trying to understand," she whispers. "How you can all act like this is normal."

"It is normal," I reply, my fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "For us."

Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I see something besides fear—defiance. "It's sick," she says quietly.

I laugh, the sound harsh and cold. "So you keep saying. You're in my world now, Aliyah. Get used to it."

The game is close to finishing, and I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The tension in the room is palpable, every eye glued to the final cards on the table. With a practiced flick of my wrist, I reveal my hand. Silence falls, followed by a collective groan from the other players. I’ve won. Again.

"Goddammit, Dante," Tony mutters, throwing his cards down. "You clean us out every time."

"Maybe you should stop inviting me," I reply, a smirk playing on my lips as I rake in the substantial pile of chips. The weight of victory is satisfying, but not nearly as much as the look on Aliyah’s face.

I glance over at her and catch her staring, her eyes wide and curious. There's something in her gaze that pisses me off—a softness, a hint of... empathy? She needs to understand there’s nothing fucking redeemable about me. I’m not some goddamn puzzle waiting to be solved, and I sure as hell don’t need her trying to see beneath the surface. I’m a monster, plain and simple, and any attempt to find something human in me is a waste of time.

But for now, I’m riding high. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, feeling her shiver under my touch. Her body stiffens, breath catching in her throat as I pull her close, our faces inches apart.

"You look like you’ve got questions," I murmur, my voice a dangerous whisper against her ear, my breath hot on her skin. "But you’re not gonna find any answers here." I tighten my grip slightly, just enough to remind her who’s in control.

---