Dante adjusted the cuffs of his black dress shirt as he stepped out of the underground ring, the distant roars of an ongoing fight still echoing behind him. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, but his mind had already shifted elsewhere.
Adriano, standing a few feet away, gave him a questioning look. "Everything good?"
"I'll be right back," Dante muttered, running a hand through his slightly damp hair before heading toward the club’s main floor.
Inferno was quieter at this hour—only a few men stationed at various points, the bar half-stocked, and the staff preparing for the night crowd.
The previous patrons had long gone, replaced by the distant hum of a cleaner vacuuming one of the VIP lounges.
Dante’s steps were firm as he moved toward the bar, but the sight that greete
