CHAPTER 4 : THE DINNER TABLE
1994 Words
POV: Alessia De Luca
The smell of blood followed her upstairs.
Not physically, psychologically.
It clung to her skin even after she left the underground chamber.
The dying screams of the traitor still echoed inside her head while Volkov guards escorted her through the fortress corridors in suffocating silence.
Silver kills slowly.
Cassian’s words replayed again and again.
Cold, calm, certain.
Like pain meant nothing to him anymore.
Alessia kept walking, refusing to let the guards see fear on her face.
But her pulse still hadn’t returned to normal.
Because she finally understood something terrifying about the Volkov empire.
The violence wasn’t chaos, It was ritual,controlled, expected.
Breathed into the walls like religion.
An empire built on blood, shipping monopolies, protection networks, and enough political blackmail to collapse governments overnight.
One of the guards stopped outside massive black double doors trimmed in gold.
“The Alpha requested your presence for dinner, Luna.”
Luna.
The title still felt wrong, heavy.
Like clothes tailored for someone else.
Alessia looked toward the doors suspiciously.
“Requested?”
The guard remained expressionless.
“Requested.”
Lie.
Everything in this fortress sounded polite until you realized refusal was never an option.
The doors opened slowly.
Warm golden light spilled outward instantly,and Alessia stepped into another world.
The dining hall looked less like a room and more like a throne chamber, black marble columns stretched toward vaulted ceilings painted with ancient wolves and war scenes,crystal chandeliers glittered overhead,a fireplace large enough to burn bodies roared against the far wall, at the center stood an impossibly long dining table carved from dark wood.Power sat at that table, Mafia kings, Pack Alphas, Volkov leadership, predators dressed in custom suits worth more than houses.Half the men seated beneath chandelier light controlled eastern ports, laundering fronts, oil contracts, and private military divisions disguised as international security firms.
Conversations lowered slightly when Alessia entered,eyes followed her immediately,assessing, judging, hunting weakness.
Then she saw him.Cassian sat at the head of the table wearing another black suit with his sleeves rolled slightly above powerful forearms marked faintly by old scars.
His expression remained unreadable.But his eyes found her instantly,and held.
The room faded briefly beneath the weight of that gaze.
Mine.
The dangerous possessive awareness slammed through the bond again.
Alessia hated how her body reacted to it,hated how aware she became whenever he looked at her.
Cassian gestured once toward the empty seat beside him.
His seat, his wife’s seat, a queen’s position, or a hostage’s.
Alessia walked carefully toward the table while silence spread gradually across the room.
Nobody ignored the Volkov Bride.
Not tonight,not after the wedding attack,not after whispers had already spread through the fortress that the Black Alpha nearly shifted during the ceremony.
Interesting. Fear flickered behind several faces as she sat beside him.
Good.
If they feared her because of Cassian, maybe they would think twice before trying to destroy her.
A woman seated halfway down the table smiled coldly.
Beautiful,blonde,elegant in a blood-red silk gown.
Her diamonds alone could probably buy countries.
But her eyes,her eyes hated Alessia instantly.
Katarina Orlov.
Alessia recognized her from syndicate galas years ago.
Mafia royalty, dangerous.
And judging by the tension at the table,important.
Rumor claimed the Orlov cartel handled Balkan weapons negotiations through ports protected by Volkov military contractors.
Katarina lifted her wine glass slowly.
“So this is the De Luca girl.”
Girl…,Not woman.
Dismissal disguised as elegance.
Cassian didn’t react outwardly, but Alessia noticed the subtle shift in the room immediately.
Everyone watching him, waiting.
Katarina smiled toward Alessia again.
“I expected someone…” her gaze slid slowly over Alessia’s black dress, “…less fragile.”
There it was, the attack.Polite enough for dinner conversation, cruel enough to draw blood.
Alessia opened her mouth.
Cassian spoke first.
“She wasn’t speaking to you.”
Silence crashed across the table instantly.
Katarina’s smile stiffened slightly.
Interesting,very interesting.
Former lover, Alessia remembered suddenly.
The realization slid coldly through her chest.
Cassian reached calmly for his whiskey beside him without looking away from Katarina.
“Careful,” he said softly. “You’re becoming disrespectful.”
Danger moved beneath the words like a blade beneath silk.
Katarina lowered her gaze immediately.
Submission.
But hatred still burned behind her eyes.
Good to know.
A servant appeared beside Alessia seconds later placing food onto gold-trimmed plates.
Steak, red wine sauce, fresh bread, luxury dripping from every detail.
Yet nobody at the table truly relaxed, not even while eating.
Weapons rested beneath jackets.
Silver knives gleamed against expensive watches.
Predators pretending to behave civilized while discussing laundering routes, shell corporations, and cartel negotiations worth billions beneath polite dinner conversation.
Cassian finally looked toward Alessia again.
“Eat.”
Again
not a suggestion.
An order.
Alessia picked up her fork slowly.
“You give commands often.”
“And people survive longer when they obey them.”
Their eyes locked briefly.
Heat flickered low in her stomach before irritation replaced it immediately.
God.
She hated how dangerous he felt.
How controlled.
How impossible to read.
Further down the table, a large man with slicked-back dark hair laughed suddenly.
Don Arturo Ricci, Italian syndicate boss.
Old ally of the Volkovs, or pretending to be.
Alessia recognized his type instantly.
Men who smiled while planning funerals.
Ricci leaned back in his chair lazily.
“So tell me, Alpha…” he drawled. “Was the De Luca daughter truly the best compensation you could demand?”
The room stilled subtly.
Cassian continued eating, unbothered, dangerously calm.
Ricci smirked toward Alessia.
“She looks expensive, I’ll give Matteo credit for that.” He lifted his wine. “Though I hear De Luca women break easily.”
A few nervous chuckles followed, not because the joke was funny, but because nobody knew how Cassian would react.
Alessia kept her face neutral despite the humiliation burning through her chest.
Ricci continued anyway.
“You should’ve taken territory instead of a bride, Volkov. Women become liabilities eventually.”
Cassian placed his fork down carefully.
Softly.
The sound echoed louder than gunfire.
The room froze.
Every wolf at the table went still instantly.
Predator stillness.
Danger seconds before violence.
Ricci either didn’t notice or was stupid enough not to care.
“I mean, look at her.” His gaze slid over Alessia again. “Pretty thing, but not exactly built for syndicate life. One war and she’ll probably”
Gunshot.
The sound exploded through the dining hall violently.
Alessia flinched hard.
Ricci’s head snapped backward instantly.
Blood sprayed across the white tablecloth.
The mafia Don collapsed sideways out of his chair with a sickening crack.
Dead.
Silence swallowed the room whole.
Smoke curled slowly upward from the black gun now resting in Cassian’s hand.
His expression never changed.
Not one emotion, not anger, not satisfaction.Nothing.
The Black Alpha had just executed a syndicate boss during dinner and looked bored afterward.
Ricci’s death alone would destabilize Adriatic shipping treaties, Balkan protection agreements, and multiple arms trafficking routes by sunrise.
Three senators funded through Volkov banking fronts would panic the second they realized Ricci’s political protection network had collapsed.
Alessia’s pulse slammed violently against her ribs.
Nobody moved, nobody breathed.
Then calmly, almost lazily Cassian placed the gun beside his plate and picked up his whiskey again.
“Continue eating.”
The command shattered the paralysis instantly.
Forks lifted again, wine poured again.
Conversations resumed shakily.
As if a man hadn’t just died beside the bread basket.
Alessia stared around the table in disbelief.
How were they still eating?
How was this normal?
Across from her, one of the wolves dragged Ricci’s body away while another servant silently replaced the blood-covered dishes.
No panic, no police, no outrage, just cleanup.
Mafia law.
Katarina took another sip of wine smoothly.
Interesting.
Not shocked either.
Cassian finally turned his gaze toward Alessia.
“You stopped eating.”
Her throat tightened.
“You killed him.”
“Yes.”
No denial, no excuse.
The simplicity terrified her more.
Cassian leaned back slightly in his chair.
“He insulted my wife publicly.”
The words wrapped around her slowly.
My wife, possessive, absolute.
A dangerous warmth flickered low inside her chest before she crushed it instantly.
No.
Absolutely not.
This man was terrifying, murderous, controlling.
She would not romanticize protection wrapped in violence.
And yet, he had shot a Don mid-sentence for humiliating her.
The realization itself felt dangerous.
Cassian watched her too carefully.
Like he could hear every thought moving through her head.
“You disapprove?” he asked softly.
Alessia forced herself to meet his eyes.
“Yes.”
Several people at the table visibly stiffened.
Nobody spoke to the Black Alpha like that.
Especially not publicly.
Cassian studied her silently.
Then, to her shock a faint smile appeared.
Tiny, gone almost instantly.
But real.
His wolf liked defiance.
That realization made her stomach twist harder.
One of the older Alphas cleared his throat nervously.
“Ricci’s territory will become unstable after this.”
Cassian’s expression returned to ice immediately.
“Then take it before Kozlov does.”
Business.
Just like that.
A man died and now they discussed empire expansion over steak and wine.
Routes, ports, oil contracts, protection networks.
The redistribution of criminal economies happened beside crystal glasses and candlelight like ordinary corporate negotiations.
The brutality of it unsettled her deeply, and fascinated her slightly too.
That part disturbed her most.
Dinner continued under suffocating tension.
Alessia learned quickly who mattered at the table.
Who held territory, who controlled ports, who handled weapons trafficking through Eastern Europe, who laundered syndicate money through luxury hotels, casinos, and shell companies hidden behind legitimate corporations.
This wasn’t simply a mafia family, It was an empire.
Structured, organized, deadly intelligent.
And Cassian stood at the center of all of it like a dark king built for war.
At one point, a servant accidentally brushed against Alessia’s shoulder while pouring wine.
The young woman froze instantly in terror.
“I’m sorry, Luna”
Cassian looked up.
The servant nearly collapsed from fear alone.
Alessia noticed immediately.
Everyone here feared him constantly.
Not respected, feared.
The servant backed away trembling.
Cassian returned to his whiskey.
But Alessia caught something strange.
He hadn’t frightened the girl intentionally.
Fear simply followed him naturally now.
Like breathing, like death.
Hours later, the dinner finally ended.
Guests began leaving slowly beneath armed escort while snow battered the fortress windows harder outside.
Encrypted phones lit up across the dining hall as syndicate leaders immediately began managing the fallout from Ricci’s death and the instability spreading through eastern operations.
Cassian rose from his chair.
Instantly, the room rose with him.
Power, pure power.
Alessia stood too.
The moment she did, her heel caught slightly against the marble floor.
Her balance slipped.
Before she could fall, Cassian’s hand wrapped around her waist instantly.
Strong, possessive.
Heat exploded through her body from the contact.
The room noticed, Of course they did.
Every wolf instinctively recognized territorial touch.
Cassian’s grip tightened slightly.
Not enough to hurt but enough to claim.
His face lowered near hers.
“You should be more careful, moya zhena.” (MY WIFE). Again.
The Russian words slid through her like smoke.
Then suddenly, warm liquid splashed across the front of her black dress.
Alessia looked down sharply.
Blood, fresh blood, dark red staining silk.
For one confused second, she thought it came from Ricci’s body being dragged away earlier.
Then she heard it, a choking sound.
One of the servants near the fireplace collapsed violently onto the marble floor clutching his throat.
Blood poured through his fingers.
POISON.
The room exploded into chaos.
Volkov wolves reached for weapons instantly.
Katarina stood abruptly.
Several guards surrounded Cassian immediately.
And through the panic, Cassian’s eyes locked onto Alessia’s blood-covered dress.
Gold flashed briefly beneath his pupils again.
Predatory, terrifying, because someone had just attempted another assassination inside his fortress.
And this time, the poison had been meant for her.
- Writer
