EMILIO'S POV
The underground ring smelled like sweat, smoke, and metal. The air was loud with shouting, and people were everywhere—yelling, betting, and pushing to see the fight. Emilio followed Ramon through the crowd. His heart was beating fast, but his face stayed calm.
Ramon had already chosen their fighter—Kellan. Strong, serious, and the best man Emilio's team had. Emilio hoped he would be enough.
He spotted Dante sitting at the far end of the ring.
Dante looked relaxed like he had all the time in the world. His men stood around him, watching everything. Next to Dante sat a boy in crutches, laughing at something Dante said. The kid had bandages on his arm and forehead.
That must be Luca, Emilio thought, his chest tightening. The cousin.
Dante looked too comfortable, too happy. Emilio hated how calm he was. Like he already knew he'd win.
Emilio stood off to the side as Kellan stepped into the ring. The crowd roared. People were screaming names, money was being thrown around.
Then Dante's fighter entered.
He was tall, fast-looking, with tattoos down his arms. Dangerous.
The bell rang. The fight started fast. Kellan landed the first punch—a hard one to the jaw—but Dante's man didn't flinch. He just smiled and came back even faster.
The fight didn't go well.
Kellan was strong, but the other guy was smart and fast. He ducked, dodged, hit back harder each time. His punches were sharp and aimed to hurt.
Emilio watched, anger building in his chest. He could feel himself heating up, fists clenched.
He looked across the ring. Dante was staring at him now. Calm. Smirking.
Kellan took another hit—then another. Blood flew from his mouth. Then, a final knee to the face knocked him to the ground.
The room went silent for a moment. Then came the noise—cheers, whistles, bets being collected.
Emilio didn't stay.
The noise—sharp, mocking. He leaned back in his chair like a king, surrounded by his men. The boy with crutches sat beside him, giggling like it was all a joke.
He turned and walked out, coat swinging behind him, his face hard. He didn't care if people saw his anger. Ramon followed without saying a word.
He didn't look back at the ring. Didn't want to see Dante's face again tonight.
This fight was over.
They moved outside the underground ring.
It was dark where they stood. The noise from the crowd was still loud behind them, but here, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Emilio ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little. The cold air hit his skin, but it wasn't enough to cool the fire burning in his chest.
Ramon leaned against the wall, watching him.
"He wants me angry," Emilio said, his voice low.
Ramon didn't answer right away. The dim light from the street lamp barely lit his face.
"And are you?" he finally asked.
Emilio stopped walking. His fists were clenched. His chest was tight.
"Not yet," he lied.
But they both knew the truth.
Dante didn't just beat his man. He humiliated him. Laughed while doing it. Sat there like a king, with a wounded boy at his side, like he was untouchable.
Emilio's jaw tightened.
"I need to hit him where it hurts," he said, voice steady but sharp.
He was just angry. And he wanted revenge.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, the faint light catching on a leather jacket. One of Dante's men.
The guy stopped a few steps away and tilted his head. "My boss wants to have final words with you."
Emilio didn't blink.
"Final words?" he repeated, his voice sharp. Then he scoffed. "Tell him to save it for his win."
The man hesitated like he didn't know how to respond. Emilio didn't give him the chance. He turned and walked away, the echo of his footsteps sharp in the silence.
Dante wanted a show. Emilio would give him one. Just not the kind he expected.
Ramon followed close behind. "Careful," he said low. "You don't want to walk straight into his game."
Emilio stopped walking. His jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. "You think I don't know that?"
Ramon didn't flinch. "I think you're letting him get under your skin. And he knows it.
Then footsteps echoed behind them.
Emilio turned sharply, his heart thudding, adrenaline still rushing hot through his veins.
A slow clap cut through the silence.
And there he was—Dante, stepping out from the shadows with the kind of lazy confidence that made Emilio's jaw tighten. That same infuriating smile curled on his lips, like he had known this moment would come all along. Like he had planned it.
Ramon instinctively stepped in front of Emilio, but Emilio held out a hand. "No," he said coldly. "Let him."
Dante stopped a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, eyes glinting with mischief—and something far more dangerous.
He didn't bring guards. No men flanking him. Just Dante alone in the dark, like he didn't need anyone. And maybe... he didn't.
His smirk deepened as he took a step forward, his presence unmistakable. "Let's see if we can settle this privately, Emilio. Over there," he said, nodding toward a shadowy corner, away from the crowd.
Emilio stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Not interested," he replied, his tone sharp. "You've had your fun. No need to drag this on."
Dante's laugh was low and knowing. "I don't need to convince you," he said smoothly. "Let's talk, Emilio. A real talk."
With that, he turned and stepped toward the corner, his coat flowing behind him like a dark wave.
Emilio stood frozen for a moment, the temptation to leave almost overwhelming. His car was parked just outside. The cold night air would clear his head. Walking away would be easy.
But something inside him snapped. He wasn't going to let Dante have the last word. Not like this.
His gaze flickered to Ramon, who remained silent, watching him intently. Emilio felt the weight of the choice.
He could walk away. Or he could follow Dante into the shadows.
Emilio's breath caught.
What would he do?