Chapter 3: The Tiger's Den

The atmosphere in the VIP lounge was thick with tension. Damian's right hand hovered near his side, where I caught a peek of his hidden gun earlier. Nick's playfulness faded and a dark aura surrounded him.

Danté was the only one who looked amused. He knew that he was winning whatever game he had thrown me in. I wondered if Hannah bringing me here was entirely her own idea - or was he somehow behind it all?

Whatever he seemed to be plotting, the other two men had no idea. Nick cleared his throat, "So, you're a cop?"

I had to do something. I had to make these men believe that I'm no threat to them. It's the only way for my plan to work.

Hopefully this doesn't go south. Because then the VIP lounge's scarlet walls would get another coating, and it would be speckled with bits of my brain.

"I was going to be a cop. But, as I said, it wasn't what I wanted to do. Why do you guys look so upset?" I acted better than I did in the play that I won second place for back in high school. If only my theatre studies teacher could see me now.

The darkness in Nick's eyes lightend a bit, but Damian's hand was still near his right side. Danté tilted his head to the side a bit, curious to see where I'm taking this. It seemed that I made his game a bit more interesting.

"Hah, so you're not a cop?" Nick asked me, still sounding a bit skeptic.

I leaned back in my seat with a look of playful suspicion, "Why? Are you doing anything illegal in here?"

Inside me, my guts were liquid. I was a mouse in the tigers' den. I was playing with fire, and it could engulf me in a second - swallowing me and my liquified insides whole.

The me from this morning would never believe what I was doing now.

"Relax! I'm not going to do anything, or report you or whatever. I don't even know all the laws, I basically failed all my classes," I said, waving them off. I wasn't completely lying about that last part.

Damian dropped his hand a little, "You better not be lying. We don't do cops."

Nick nodded, "Yip. Not really our style."

I burst out with a fake laugh, "Damn, what do you guys do around here? You sound so suspicious. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask or anything."

I glanced at Danté, who was leaned back with his arms folded in front of his massive chest. If I didn't know he was a mafia boss, I'd be attracted to him. He had really good physique. The veins popping in his forearms must have all the ladies swooning. But those forearms are built to strangle people to death, not catch any damsel in swooning distress.

"What happens in the club, stays in the club," I said, placing my hand over my heart. Then I smiled what I hope was the cutest, most convincing smile I've ever made.

Please work, please work, please work.

Danté raised a brow, something that he seemed to do a lot, as I've realized by now.

But my smile seemed to have worked, because Nick relaxed visibly, and even Damian leaned back, abandoning the will to grab his gun. Hannah was lying with her head on his lap, and he tenderly took some of the hair that hung in her face and slid it behind her ear. It was a sweet gesture, but I wanted to slap his hand away and put it in handcuffs.

"Okay, you got me with that smile. Damn, I suddenly have butterflies," Nick said with a side-smile.

"If you don't stick by your word I'll make a mural with your brains," Damian said, without letting a beat pass.

The terror in my face must have been very evident, because Nick hurried to try and make me feel better, "He's joking! Don't worry!" I wasn't even acting this time. And the gleam of evil satisfaction in Danté's eyes told me that he knew it.

Nick turned to Damian with a warning expression and spoke between his teeth, "Damian, you jokester."

The gesture made me realize that Nick really believed me. I needed to use that to my advantage.

"Nick, I swear to you guys that I'm not a cop. I don't want to prance around advocating for hypocritical law and order. Please believe me," I begged. Nick seemed to have a little interest in me, so if I acted cute enough, I might pull a heartstring in him.

He seemed to be taking the bait. "Yeah, I believe you. We've known Hannah all our lives, and she wouldn't be friends with the police."

What? Hannah grew up with these guys? Does that make her a part of all this madness? But she didn't have the tattoo, she couldn't be a member of The Inferno. I don't understand. How much had she been hiding from me?

Danté suddenly got up, then looked down at me. "Let's go have a chat, shall we?"

My palms were soaking with sweat. If I were alone with this man, who knows what he'll do to me. Out here I could still try to pretend my way out by using the oblivion of Nick and Damian. And they seemed to care about Hannah, so they wouldn't hurt me out here where she was.

But wherever Danté was going to take me, he had the absolute upper hand. He was twice my size, so my weak hand-to-hand combat skills would be of no use. And I didn't have my gun; it was in my locker back at work.

"Come on, don't look so nervous, Princess. I won't eat you," Danté leaned in with a smug grin tugging at his dimples, "yet."

Nick looked a little jealous, "Where are you taking her, Boss? She just started getting out of her shell. You were the one that said not to scare her away."

Danté helped me stand up, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. "I'm not scaring her away. I'm inviting her in."

Nick and Damian shared a look of confusion. I didn't completely know what he meant either, but I hope it was a step in the right direction regarding my plan.

Danté took my sweaty mouse paw and lead me out, without waiting to hear if I had any objections.

We walked through the club. Dancing bodies grazed by us, and I nearly got lost between them more than a few times if it weren't for Danté's grasp on my hand pulling me along.

The music pulsated through my ears and my head pounded.

Hannah and I were supposed to dance along with these people, but instead she was passed out, drunk, on the lap of a gang member, and I was facing my impending death by the hands of his leader.

We went up a few flights of dark marble stairs, and went down a long hallway with paintings of various men who looked like they were smacked with wet newspaper. I recognised some of their faces from the case files - Hector Huo, Wesker Jackson, Alexander Wood. They were all killed in an enormous gang fight with one of the other 2 gangs, The Riot, a few years back when I was still in middle school. It was around that time when William could make his name as one of the best rookie police officers that Amber City has seen.

I couldn't recognise the other men, but I figured they were also killed at some stage, trying to defend the gang.

The very last two paintings, however, were of women. The one was older, maybe in her fifties, and the other was a girl a little younger than myself. Maybe she was a high schooler. Both had the same eyes as Danté, and I wondered if they were related to him.

And I wonder how they died, and why?

We reached an elevator, which opened after it scanned his fingerprint and eyes.

The elevator took us all the way up to the top of the building. When the doors finally opened, I was slapped in the face by wind and my hair blowing all over the place.

I gathered my hair with my free hand (because Danté still had the other one very firmly in his grasp, like a shackle) and I looked around in awe.

I haven't realized that The Blue Flame's building was this tall. I could see my apartment building from up here on this balcony. And even the police station.

I frowned at the back of Danté's head. "Where are you taking me?"

"Finally decided to open your mouth, Princess?" Danté asked, a sly smile evident in his voice.

"Don't call me that," I said in disgust.

We reached a door, which Danté opened with a code (0603, I made a point to memorize it) and then he turned to face me. "Your daddy is the Chief of Police. 'The King' of Amber City. Does that not make you a princess?"

I hated the disrespectful tone his voice carried as he spoke about my father, but I couldn't let him know that. I had to act like I was against my father.

"He's no king," I replied. "And he treats me like I'm a doormat."

Danté laughed as he opened the door and led me inside. "The blood in your veins are still his own."

Danté let me go and locked the door behind me after I entered the space. It was an office. The walls were mostly made of glass, making the sea of city lights illuminate the place.

This was the office of the boss of The Inferno. I was standing in the one place my father and brothers could never even dream of standing. The shelves filled with files and desks with expensive computers in this enormous room were filled with priceless information. It was all here, right in front of me. Within reach.

If Danté knew who I was, why did he bring me to this place?

I looked at him, not making the question evident on my face.

Danté sat on the edge of the largest desk near the biggest windows, which I assumed was his own. "You must be wondering why I brought you here."

I remained quiet, and I stood still where he left me, near the door.

"You are a useful little pawn," Danté said as he pointed at me. "In more than one way. A powerful tool that I can use to my advantage."

Revenge, Sergent Marx had said. He didn't want me on the undercover mission because Danté could kill me as part of his revenge plot.

"I can torture and kill you, right here, recording it for your precious daddy and big brothers to see," his sneer was dark and villainous and I gulped at the images coming into my mind.

Danté got up and stalked towards me, and with each step he made, I backed away until my back hit the door.

Danté stopped in front of me, glaring down into my eyes. The piercings in his eyebrow and ears glimmered with the night lights coming in from outside. His blue eyes shone like gems in the darkness. His body was so close to mine that he nearly touched me. His slow and relaxed breaths tickled my face.

He leaned down, placing one hand next to my head and the other grazed my neck.

"This pretty porcelain throat can be slit, ever so slowly, with my prettiest silver knife, and your blood - your father's blood - will spill out like a chocolate fountain. And I will dip some strawberries in it, and serve it to your daddy and brothers. Maybe your mommy could even have some too."

My stomach churned. This man was vile. He was the devil himself.

I pressed myself harder into the doorknob that was digging into my back, hoping that the pain could keep me from losing my mind.

"Or," Danté stepped away from me, "You could follow my plan."

I blinked, dazed. "Y-you mean, if I follow your plan, you won't kill me then?" I was so out if it, his insult towards my father didn't even register in my mind.

"Not yet, no. And not as brutally. You'll get to live until all of this is over and then die a quick painless death," he said that like I was a kid and he was offering me free sweets if I mowed his lawn for him.

"All of what?" I asked.

Danté revealed his brilliant white teeth, "My revenge."

I gathered myself and stood up straight, "What if I helped you, and in return you let me live?"

Danté laughed as if I told the funniest joke in world history. He wiped tears from his eyes and curled a strand of my hair around his index finger. It made my insides crawl.

"No, no, no, honeybee. That's not how revenge works. An eye for an eye," Danté pulled my hair towards him, making me shout out in pain, then he leaned in so that his face was a breath away from mine, "A life for a life. You burn mine, I burn yours to ashes."