Page 7 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

“I’m aware,” I ask, my voice almost a whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away, but instead pulls out the same reference photo from his pocket which he had shown me a week ago. He places it on the table in front of me. It’s a simple image—a rose floating on a river, delicate petals drifting on the water.

“I’ll leave this here for reference,” he says with a finality.

I stare at the image, my mind racing. This... doesn’t make sense. Why a rose on a river? What’s the significance?

I glance up at him, catching his gaze. “Why that?” I ask, not sure why I’m even asking. It’s not like I’ll get a real answer. Even if I do, I don’t think I want to know anything about this man. Whatever I know so far is chilling.

Dominic meets my eyes, his expression hardened. “Because it means something to me,” he says, his voice colder than I expect. “And I don’t care how you do it, you can explore around the estate for more… inspiration if you want. It doesn’t have to be a copy. I just want it to be perfect. Your interpretation of the painting.”

I look at him, surprised, “How do you know so much about artists and their inspirations?”

“My mother used to paint,” he answers and to my surprise, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, “She hated being told what to paint.”

Suddenly, he releases the photo, as if startled by his own words. His gaze lingers on me, before he turns sharply on his heel. “I’ll leave you to it,” he murmurs, his voice low.

I stand there, staring at the photo and the blank canvas, feeling the full force of everything pressing down on me. I don’t understand why I’m here but I know there’s no turning back now. I’ve heard the rumors about him —stories whispered in the dark corners of the city, passed between people who should know better than to speak his name too loudly. This is the man known to people for killing ten men in ten seconds. That’s what they say he did, in some bloody, ruthless show of power.

I just hope by the time I’m done, it’s not too entangled in this world.

Chapter 4 - Dominic

The bass of the music thrums in my chest as I step into Inferno. Even through the thick glass doors, the thundering beat pulses like the heartbeat of the city itself—chaotic and alive. The red and gold lights spill onto the sidewalk, beckoning the desperate and the dangerous alike. It’s my empire’s crown jewel, the kingdom I’ve built from blood and sweat—a carefully constructed haven for the unholy.

The sound outside fades as we enter, the air inside thick with the tang of alcohol, sweat, and the heady scent of too much perfume. The heat in the room wraps around me like a living thing, and for a moment, I’m caught in the intoxicating rush of it all—the power, the noise, the raw humanity on display. Inferno has a pulse, a rhythm all its own. It runs on danger, and I thrive in it.

Charles flanks me to the left, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd and his broad frame cutting through it like a blade. Nico, trailing slightly behind, fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. The kid’s eager, loyal—reckless as hell, but I keep him close because I see potential in him, even if it’s still raw. As we step deeper into the club, it parts around us. Dancers freeze mid-motion. Conversations drop to hushed whispers. Heads turn.

They know who I am.

They always know.

I inhale the stench of excess—liquor sloshing in glasses, sweat mingling with heavy perfume. Overhead, gold chandeliers glitter against the velvet-dark ceiling, their light casting eerieshadows over the crowd. The patrons are lost in their indulgence, oblivious to everything beyond their own pleasure.

But up there, in my territory, it’s different. There’s a stillness—a kind the world never offered me, so I carved it out for myself.

I take the stairs slowly, each step deliberate against the polished marble, the sound of my shoes echoing softly through the club. Charles and Nico follow, but I don’t look back. I don’t need to. Up here, every detail is under my control. Patrons lucky enough to sit in these seats know better than to test the limits of my hospitality.

Samuel Delgado waits for me.

The moment I step into the private lounge, he’s the first thing I notice. Not because he’s particularly imposing—he’s not. Delgado is lean, his sharp features almost too perfect to be real. But he wants to be noticed. Like always.

He lounges on a deep leather sofa, his dark suit tailored to perfection, a silver ring glinting on his finger as he swirls a glass of expensive whiskey. The gleam of the candlelight makes his smile stretch a little too wide, a little too practiced. I’ve dealt with men like him before. He’s playing a game, trying to size me up like I’m some kind of target.

“Castellano,” he drawls, rising to his feet, his voice slick and oily. He stretches his hand out, but I don’t bother extending mine.

“Delgado,” I reply, stepping into his space with measured indifference.

Beside him, Ramona Cortez watches me with unnerving composure. Her black hair is slicked back in a neat bun, and a thin dagger glints from the leather strap on her thigh—a subtle, but deadly warning. She doesn’t speak, but her presence is as sharp as a blade. I’ve learned to never underestimate her. She’s the brain to Delgado’s charm, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the smartest ones are always the most dangerous.

The tension in the room is palpable, thick as smoke. Delgado’s eyes shift from me to Charles, then to Nico, but his attention snaps back to me.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Delgado begins, his voice low, filled with insinuation as he swirls his drink. It’s clear this isn’t a social call, and we both know it.

“What I do isn’t your concern,” I say, my voice calm, reserved, controlled. Charles stands just behind me, a constant shadow, his eyes scanning the room, assessing. Delgado may have brought his best, but I brought mine, too.

Delgado’s smile doesn’t falter, but I can feel the shift beneath it. There’s steel in his gaze now, a hint of challenge. “It becomes my concern when whispers reach my ears. You’ve got a new project, Castellano. And I’m curious to know what you’re up to.”

---