The Wrong Place
1098 Words
Dominic’s POV
The underground club was alive with shadows and smoke. Bass thumped through the walls, a heartbeat beneath the city, where men like me thrived. Deals were made here. Fortunes sealed in blood and silence.
I stood at the back of a private booth, fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, watching the men at the table. Three of them. Russian. Old money. Arrogant bastards. They thought they could sit in my city and negotiate terms.
I let them talk—for now.
Vadim, the one in the center, leaned forward, gold rings catching the dim light. “We’ll take fifty percent of the shipment. You get the rest. That’s fair.”
I didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just set my glass down on the polished table.
“No.”
The room stilled.
Vadim frowned. “No?”
I exhaled slowly, shifting in my chair. They were pushing their luck.
I turned my gaze to his left-hand man, Yuri. He hadn’t spoken once, just sat there, watching me like he was waiting for a tell. A mistake.
I smirked. Idiots.
“You don’t tell me what’s fair,” I said, voice smooth. “I own this city. Every street, every club, every deal that moves through it. You don’t negotiate. You listen.” I leaned forward, holding Vadim’s stare. “And you obey.”
Silence.
Vadim swallowed but forced a tight smile. “We’re just looking for a—”
I flicked my wrist, and in one swift motion, Leo slammed a knife into the table. Inches from Vadim’s hand.
The Russian flinched.
I smiled. “See, that’s the problem. You don’t ‘look’ for s**t. You take what I give you. Nothing more.”
Tension rippled across the table.
Then Yuri—stupid, f*****g Yuri—spoke.
“And if we don’t?”
Leo moved first, but I raised a hand, stopping him. Instead, I reached for the knife, yanked it out of the wood, and tapped it against my palm.
I tilted my head. “If you don’t?” I mused. Then I looked directly at Yuri. “Then your family gets a call in the morning asking what kind of casket they prefer.”
Vadim paled. “We don’t want trouble.”
“Then take what I give you.”
Silence.
Then—reluctantly—Vadim nodded. “We have a deal.”
I smirked. “Good.”
I leaned back, letting the tension settle. Leo stepped forward to collect the papers, ensuring it was done. The deal was set. Another win. Another night.
And then—the doors burst open.
Flashing lights. Yelling. The sharp command of “POLICE! HANDS UP!”
I barely reacted. Sloppy. If they were raiding here, they weren’t looking for me specifically. They wouldn’t have barged in like this if they were.
Leo moved instantly, shielding my side. My men—all trained, all ruthless—were already dispersing into the crowd. We’d clear the mess, as always.
Then—I saw her.
Elena Monroe.
Standing near the entrance. Too calm. Too f*****g composed for someone in the wrong place.
My fingers tightened around the knife.
What the f**k was she doing here?
The club had turned to chaos. People screamed, drinks spilled, and bodies shoved past one another, desperate to disappear before cuffs got slapped on their wrists. Amateurs.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t need to. This wasn’t my first raid.
Leo was already handling our exit. My men? They knew what to do. The police wouldn’t find a damn thing by the time they pushed past the crowd.
But none of that mattered right now.
Because I was watching her.
She stood near the entrance, just outside the neon glow. No badge. No gun drawn. Just a stiff stance, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she belonged here. Like she wasn’t surrounded by criminals and blood money.
Too calm.
Cops had a look about them during a raid—jittery, alert, ready for a fight. But she wasn’t looking for threats. She was looking for someone.
Looking for me.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. Captain or not, she was getting too close.
She didn’t belong in my world, but she kept showing up in it.
Fucking reckless.
I pushed off my seat and moved through the scattering crowd, smooth and deliberate. I was inches from her before she even noticed. Careless.
I leaned down slightly, voice low. “This is a dangerous place for you, officer.”
She turned. Didn’t flinch.
Her green eyes flicked up to mine, unimpressed. “Then maybe you should leave.”
I stilled.
Leo, who was standing a few feet behind me, let out a quiet chuckle before quickly masking it with a cough.
I smirked, but it wasn’t friendly. “You got a smart mouth, sweetheart.”
She lifted a brow. “You got a guilty conscience?”
I laughed once—short and sharp. This girl.
I stepped closer, forcing her back into the doorway’s shadow. The neon lights painted red streaks over her skin. Blood-colored. Fitting.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I murmured, trailing my gaze over her stance, the slight clench in her jaw. Defensive. But not scared. “Bad things happen in places like this.”
She tilted her chin up, unbothered. “Only if you’re one of the bad guys.”
I smiled. Wrong answer.
I leaned in, lowering my voice just for her. “Oh, sweetheart.” My fingers brushed the side of her arm—not soft, just enough to feel the tension beneath her skin. “I am the bad guy.”
She didn’t move.
Didn’t tremble.
Just stared up at me like she hadn’t just walked into a viper’s nest with nothing but her mouth and a badge that didn’t mean s**t here.
And that made me mad.
Because she didn’t get to be fearless. Not with me.
Before I could say another word, a loud voice cut through the noise.
“Monroe! Get over here.”
I shifted my gaze past her. A sergeant stood by the bar, waving her over, distracted by some poor bastard they were hauling in.
Elena took a slow step back. Then another.
But before she was out of reach, she paused, lifting her gaze to mine. “See you around,....Dominic.”
Then she turned and walked away.
Cocky little thing.
I let her go. For now.
But that night, as the club settled and the police left with their empty threats, one thing became very clear.
Elena Monroe was going to be a problem.
- Writer
