The Demon Prince’s Bodyguard

A Dangerous Bargain

The rain hadn’t let up, hammering the streets like the city wanted to drown itself. The Serrano club loomed behind us, its neon bleeding through the storm until it vanished around the corner. Enzo walked a step ahead, shoulders rigid, hand hovering near his gun like the night itself might attack. Kael, as always, was silent at my side. Not a bodyguard, not a man, something heavier. The weight of him pressed against me, even when he didn’t touch.

We reached the car. Enzo opened the back door for me, but I didn’t get in. My blood was running too hot, my fists clenched too tight. Lucien’s smile was still painted across my skull. I could taste the venom in his voice and hear the mockery in every word. He’d tried to gut me with Serrano knives, and then he’d dared sit across from me and preach peace like a priest blessing a funeral.

“Get in, boss,” Enzo urged, low. “We’ll take you home. Rest. You need—”

“I need to see him,” I cut him off.

Enzo turned, rain dripping from his jaw. “Lucien? Dante—”

“Yes. Lucien.” The words hissed out of me. “He doesn’t get to smile in my face and walk away untouched.”

Enzo’s mouth worked, but before he could argue, Kael spoke. His voice was velvet over a blade. “Then go. Snakes coil tighter if you give them time. Better to crush the head now, while it’s exposed.”

Enzo shot him a glare. “You don’t get a say in this.”

Kael didn’t even blink. “I always get a say.”

I pushed past both of them, back toward the theatre. My blood screamed for Lucien, for his silk voice and serpent eyes. I wanted him to see me, not at the table with Serrano breathing down my neck, but alone, where he’d have to drop the mask and show me the fangs he’d been hiding.

Inside, the theatre was nearly empty now. Serrano’s men had gone, their cigar smoke still hanging in the rafters like ghosts. Only a few Moreau guards lingered, and at the centre of the stage, Lucien himself, pouring whisky into two glasses, was calm as if this were his living room and not Serrano’s den.

“Cousin,” he said warmly, as though he’d been expecting me. “You came back. I hoped you would.”

I stalked closer, Enzo shadowing me, Kael a step behind like death itself. “Cut the performance,” I snapped. “No Serrano dogs here now. Just you and me.”

Lucien’s smile widened. He slid one of the glasses across the table. “Then drink with me. Like family should.”

I slammed the glass aside, whisky spilling across the wood. “Family doesn’t send men into the rain to carve me open. The family doesn’t put a knife in my back and call it peace.”

His expression didn’t falter, not even for a second. He only leaned back in his chair, hands folded, like a man waiting for a storm to blow past. “You wound me, Dante. Do you truly believe I would do such a thing?”

“You were seen,” I hissed. “Whispers on every street that you’ve been meeting Serrano lieutenants. Smiling in their company. Making promises.”

“Whispers,” he repeated softly, almost amused. “And since when do you, cousin, put your trust in whispers?”

My nails dug crescents into the wood of the table. “Since those whispers bled into bullets and Serrano men hunted me through alleys.”

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. A glint, sharp and cruel. He leaned forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. “And yet here you are. Alive. Perhaps you should thank me, not accuse me. If I wanted you dead, Dante… you would be.”

Enzo moved, but Kael’s hand shot out, catching his arm before he could draw his gun. They locked eyes, Enzo’s burning with fury, Kael’s calm and cold as stone. I barely saw them. All I saw was Lucien, sitting there with his smug composure, his serpent’s smile.

“You think you’re untouchable,” I said, my voice shaking with fury I could barely contain. “But I see you. I know what you are.”

“And what am I?” he asked softly.

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. “A traitor.”

The word echoed in the empty theatre, sharp enough to cut the smoke. Lucien’s smile finally faltered. Just a crack. A flicker of the truth beneath. Then it returned, smooth as silk.

He rose slowly, straightening his jacket. “Careful, cousin. Words like that are dangerous. Dangerous words have a way of becoming self-fulfilling. Traitor. Enemy. Dead man. Do you truly want to paint me with that brush?”

“I’ll paint you with your own blood,” I snarled.

We stood inches apart now, the rain outside pounding harder, like the city itself was listening. My hand itched for my knife, but Kael’s presence at my back was iron. His voice slid into my ear, too low for Lucien to hear.

“Not yet,” Kael whispered. “Patience, little heir. He bleeds soon, but not here. Not like this.”

The words curled around my spine, coiling tight. My rage demanded I strike now, but Kael’s calm pressed into me like a leash, yanking me back from the edge.

Lucien’s eyes flicked to him. “This man,” he said softly. “This stranger you’ve brought into our world… He whispers in your ear like he owns you.”

I bared my teeth. “He doesn’t own me.”

Kael chuckled low, behind me. “Say it louder, Dante. Maybe one day you’ll even believe it.”

Lucien’s gaze lingered on Kael, narrowing, trying to see through the shadow. But Kael gave him nothing. Just that unreadable calm, the faint burn in his eyes that made Lucien’s skin twitch.

Finally, Lucien stepped back, smoothing his jacket again. “We’re family, Dante. Whatever happens in the streets, remember that. Serrano, peace, betrayal, these are games we play for survival. But blood? Blood is forever.”

He slipped past us, his cologne mixing with whisky and smoke, leaving his serpent’s smile in the air even after he was gone.

I stood frozen, fists clenched, until Kael’s hand landed on my shoulder. Not gentle. Firm. Claiming. “He’ll cut your throat with that smile if you let him.”

“I know,” I muttered. My pulse thundered against his palm.

Enzo shoved Kael’s hand off me, stepping between us. “Don’t listen to him, boss. He wants you isolated. Wants you doubting everyone but him. That’s what predators do.”

Kael’s eyes gleamed faintly, predator indeed. “Better a predator at your side than a serpent at your table.”

“Shut the f**k up,” Enzo snapped.

I pressed a hand to my temple. Their voices, the storm, Lucien’s smile, it was too much. My chest felt like it was caving in, fury and fear colliding.

“Enough,” I growled. “Both of you.”

Enzo looked at me, desperate. “Dante—”

But I cut him off, my voice low, dangerous. “Lucien has Serrano behind him. That much is clear. This isn’t just about territory anymore. It’s about survival. Mine.”

Kael leaned closer, his voice brushing my ear. “And that’s why you need me. Not your cousin. Not your father. Not even this loyal friend who looks at me like he wants to shoot me. Me. Only me.”

Enzo’s fists clenched. “Boss, don’t—”

I turned, meeting Kael’s ember-lit gaze. I hated how the words lodged in me, heavy, undeniable. He was right. My father saw me as a pawn. Lucien saw me as an obstacle. Serrano saw me as prey.

And Kael? Kael saw me. He saw me bleeding, raging, teetering on the edge, and he didn’t look away.

The rain roared louder outside. My chest rose and fell, my pulse unsteady.

“You’ll keep me alive,” I said finally.

Kael’s smile was slow and dangerous. “Always.”

Enzo’s face crumpled, betrayal written in his eyes. But I couldn’t look at him. Not now.

Because for the first time in my life, I felt the bars of the cage closing, and I wasn’t sure if Kael was locking me in… or keeping the wolves out.