Elijah Sinclair doesn't belong in this world.
He's carefree, sharp-tongued, and reckless-the kind of guy who should be worrying about exams, not catching the attention of a mafia king.
And yet, somehow, he's found himself in Dominic Moretti's sights.
---
The night air is thick with tension as Elijah leans against his motorcycle, scrolling through his phone outside a buzzing nightclub. Music pounds from inside, neon lights flashing against the pavement.
"Yo, Eli!" A familiar voice calls out. His friend, Adrian, jogs over, grinning. "You coming in, or are you just here to look pretty?"
Elijah smirks. "Both."
Adrian laughs, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "Let's get wasted."
But before they can head inside, something changes.
The atmosphere shifts. The kind of shift that makes the hairs on the back of Elijah's neck stand up.
He doesn't see him at first. He feels him.
A slow, creeping awareness. Like the air itself is being consumed by something dark and dangerous.
And then-he spots him.
Dominic Moretti.
Sitting in the VIP section of the club, surrounded by his men, but his eyes are locked solely on Elijah.
Elijah swallows. His fingers tighten around his phone. Why the hell is Moretti looking at him like that?
Like a predator who's just found his favorite prey.
---
Inside the Club
Elijah tries to ignore him.
He dances. Drinks. Smiles at a pretty bartender who's been eyeing him all night.
But every time he looks up, Dominic is still watching.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Like he owns the goddamn place.
Adrian leans in. "That guy's staring at you."
Elijah huffs. "I noticed."
Adrian whistles. "You're either about to get lucky or end up in a body bag."
Elijah smirks. "Maybe both."
Adrian chokes on his drink.
But before he can say anything else, someone approaches.
Not just anyone. One of Moretti's men.
"Mr. Sinclair," the man says smoothly, standing too close. "The boss would like a word."
Elijah raises a brow, pretending he doesn't feel his pulse spike. "Yeah? And what if I don't feel like talking?"
The man smiles. "Then you'll be escorted. Your choice."
Adrian grips his wrist. "Eli-"
But Elijah grins. A little reckless. A little stupid. Exactly the way he is.
"Well," he exhales, tossing back the rest of his drink. "Let's not keep him waiting."
And just like that, he walks straight into the lion's den.
---