A Dance with the Devil

The gala pulsed with quiet tension, a battlefield disguised as elegance. Cassian Varela stood across the room, glass in hand, exuding control. He didn't need to make a scene—his presence alone was a threat.

Luca knew better than to make the first move. This wasn't a back alley or a warehouse shootout. This was a game of patience. And Cassian had been playing it longer.

Mira, standing close to Luca, tilted her head slightly. "He's watching you like a predator."

Luca exhaled slowly. "Let him."

—

An Invitation to the Fire

A waiter approached them, expression unreadable. He stopped just short of Luca and extended a sleek black card.

"Mr. Varela requests a word."

Mira tensed. Dominic, nearby, gave a small nod—this was expected.

Luca took the card without hesitation. "Lead the way."

Mira grabbed his wrist before he could move. "Luca—"

He met her gaze, steady and certain. "I have to."

After a beat, she let go. But her eyes said everything.

Be careful.

—

Face to Face

The waiter led Luca through a set of double doors, down a private corridor lined with velvet curtains. At the end of the hall, a balcony overlooked the city skyline.

Cassian stood there, waiting.

Luca stepped forward.

Two men. Two forces colliding.

Cassian turned, studying him with an unreadable expression. Then, finally—

"You've been making a mess, Luca."

Luca smirked. "I have a talent for it."

Cassian chuckled, slow and dark. "And yet, you're still alive."

Luca tilted his head. "For now."

A beat of silence. The wind carried the distant hum of the party below.

Then Cassian spoke again, voice smooth, laced with something dangerous. "Tell me, Luca… do you actually know what you've started?"

—

Next Chapter: The Devil's Bargain.