Page 111 of Fractured Allegiance
Of course it’s Dom.
He doesn’t say anything when I open the door, just flicks his gaze over my shoulder, checking for shadows. Like maybe Silas would still be here, tucked behind a wall or stepping out of the shower with no apology in his eyes.
I don’t give him long to look.
I step out and pull the door shut behind me.
“You’re glowing,” Dom says with a crooked grin.
“Fuck off.”
He chuckles but doesn’t push. Just gestures toward the elevator with a sweep of his hand, like I’m the guest in all this. Like I’m the one who should feel lucky to be summoned. Moments later, we’re sliding into the car.
The car smells like leather and leftover smoke. Dom’s cologne is acrid today — too sweet, like it’s trying to cover up blood.
We don’t talk on the way down.
He drives fast, hand slung across the wheel like he’s already bored. Like this is just a routine errand: pick up the girl, drop her at the lion’s den, watch what’s left of her crawl back out.
The city blurs past the window. Neon signs flickering like false starts. Wet pavement glittering under street lamps like a promise nobody means.
When we get to the club, he doesn’t park in the front.
He takes the alley.
The back entrance.
The place where real things happen, the ones no music plays over, no lights capture.
He doesn’t tell me where we’re going.
He doesn’t need to.
I follow him through the back hall, past the kitchen, through a staff door that clicks shut like a vault behind us.
Then we’re inside one of Drazen’s private lounges.
The kind nobody gets invited to without bleeding for it first.
He’s already there.
Sitting like a king dressed in ink-black silk, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to suggest leisure, not invitation. A lowball glass rests in his hand, filled with something dark, expensive, untouched.
His eyes track me like heat.
I don’t flinch.
I walk in. I stand. I wait.
He gestures to the seat across from him with two fingers.
I don’t sit.
He doesn’t smile. Yet, at least. That’s the thing about Drazen. The charm comes after the violence. Not before.
"You've been useful," he says.
I don't respond. There's no safe answer to that.
