Bloody Intentions { BL SLOWBURN }

Twelve : Pockets

The car slowed as they approached the towering entrance of the event venue, a lavish hotel glowing in lights that cast a warm glow across the gathering crowd. Paparazzi lined the barricades and the flash of cameras flickered in rapid succession as prestigious guests arrived, stepping out of sleek black cars in expensive suits and gowns. Politicians, business moguls and a scattering of celebrities all filed toward the entrance with polished smiles that no-one in the know could realise were wholly fake.

The driver pulled to a stop at the curb and the valet stepped forward, opening the door with a respectful nod. Izzy stepped out first, her face transforming into the calm, poised expression she reserved for public appearances, her eyes forward as she slipped a practiced arm through Matteo’s with a warmth in her smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Matteo returned the gesture with a charming grin, glancing down to pat her hand with a look of affection that felt almost too perfect. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, answering a few questions from the eager press that swarmed around them.

“Matteo, Isabella, how does it feel to be one of the most powerful couples in the city?” One reporter asked, microphone extended.

Matteo laughed lightly, giving Izzy a brief, adoring look before answering. “It’s an honour, of course. We’re lucky to be able to work together and support one another.”

“We’re both so grateful for the support we’ve received.” Izzy nodded with a graceful smile.

“Any plans to expand the family?” Another reporter called out, causing Matteo to chuckle.

“We’ll see what the future holds.” He said vaguely. “For now, we’re focused on making sure we’re a strong team.”

“A solid foundation is everything.” Izzy agreed squeezing his arm, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt discreetly.

Luka took a steadying breath as he climbed out of the car behind them, hyper-aware of Damon exiting just a step behind, gaze flicking over the crowd as if assessing each person’s threat level. The grand entrance opened into a gleaming marble atrium filled with the elite of the city, their voices a low hum beneath the chandeliers that sparkled overhead whilst staff circulated the room, balancing silver trays of champagne as guests exchanged laughs.

Izzy and Matteo made their way to the center of the crowd, greeting prominent figures with polite smiles. Damon lingered beside Luka, attempting to blend into the background yet failing to fully disappear. More than one passing glance from women in the crowd had found their way over, eyes flicking to Damon and lingering a moment too long, no doubt admiring his tall, powerful frame in that tailored dark suit. Despite standing silent, Damon commanded attention, an effortless, dark magnetism that these elite figures couldn’t get enough of. Luka stole a glance at him before looking away sharply. How easily people were fooled by a smart suit—It truly was the best disguise for murderers like them.

With a small scoff, Luka quickly looked away, a flicker of annoyance running through him as he pushed away from the wall and moved deeper into the room. He kept a close eye on Izzy, watching her graceful exchanges with guests, noting the subtle nods and poised smiles she offered as she navigated the room with ease. Matteo was less engaged now they were away from the cameras, standing beside her with an air of indifference, his eyes occasionally flicking to those around him but rarely lingering on anyone as he showcased his boredom. Luka roamed the room, assessing the clusters of guests, the strategic placement of staff, each potential entry and exit point as intensely as he would any assignment. A waiter passed by with an empty tray and his gaze lingered for a beat too long on the man’s frame, a flicker of suspicion forming as he wondered whether there was something tucked into the man’s pocket. A phone? Knife?

Before he could decide, a hand shot out and grasped the waiter, dragging him roughly from the crowd. Luka glanced around to make sure no one had noticed before slipping into the dimly lit staff hall, following the faint sounds of scuffling and muffled grunts. He rounded the corner to find Damon gripping the collar of the young waiter, whose expression wavered between terror and anger.

“Hey man, I'm just trying to do my job!”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Luka demanded, glancing between Damon and the pale waiter.

“Checking him down.” Damon answered with an arched brow, as though Luka was the strange one to ask.

“Why?”

“You seemed interested in his pockets.”

“So you decided to drag him here?”

Ignoring him, Damon continued his search, thrusting his hands into the waiter’s pockets. The young man squirmed, yelping at the rough invasion of his personal space but Damon paid no attention to his protests, his expression impassive as he frisked him roughly. Luka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as Damon finally shoved the waiter away, satisfied he’d found nothing. The young man stumbled, glaring back at them with a mixture of outrage and fear before scurrying off down the hall, glancing back over his shoulder as if afraid Damon might decide to chase him.

“Well? Find anything useful?” Luka asked sarcastically, folding his arms.

“No.”

“And now we’ve officially been seen roughing up the staff.”

“I could kill him so no-one knows.”

“We're supposed to be subtle, Novak.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed, his tone cooling a fraction. “I’m not a Novak, I’m—”

“A Salvatore, so you’ve said.” Luka cut him off, irritation flaring. “This assignment is supposed to be low-profile security only. You can’t just drag innocent staff members into dark corridors to pat them down whenever you feel like it. If Matteo or Izzy saw that—hell, if anyone saw it—they’d think we’re thugs.”

“You were staring at him, practically burning a hole in his crotch.”

Luka blinked, surprised. “I was looking at his pockets!”

“You sure about that?”

“What else would I have been looking at?”

Damon raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady, studying Luka in a way that made his skin prickle. For a split second he thought he saw something in Damon’s eyes, something darker, more feral than the moment justified, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, masked behind Damon’s usual stoic expression. He gave a slight shrug, his interest seemingly fading as he turned on his heel and strode back toward the party, as though the whole conversation had been nothing more than an idle amusement. Luka stood there, momentarily frozen, watching him leave, his mind racing to process the strange tension still buzzing in the air.

What the hell was that about?

He returned to the party, slipping into the edges of the crowd, eyes scanning over the guests. He kept Izzy and Matteo in his line of sight as they mingled, but his attention kept drifting, inevitably finding its way to Damon who stood near the entrance looking as stoic and antisocial as ever. Just making sure he doesn’t frisk another waiter, Luka told himself, eyes narrowing as he tracked Damon’s movements while he began to weave through the room. Yet, the longer he watched, the less convincing his excuse felt. Damon’s gaze was cool, sharp, scanning the room with the precision of a hawk, eyes landing on each guest with a detached efficiency. But every time Luka allowed his gaze to linger, he found Damon’s already on him—watching, waiting.

Clenching his jaw, Luka forced himself to break the stare as he resumed his sweep of the room—though after only a few moments, found his gaze sliding back to Damon as though of their own accord. This is ridiculous. He thought irritably. Focus! The evening pressed on, a blur of polite smiles and rehearsed laughter, but every now and then, despite his resolve, Luka felt his gaze drifting back to Damon. When the party finally drew to a close, he let out a sigh of relief as he followed Izzy and Matteo back to the car, the brisk night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy, crowded ballroom. Izzy climbed in first, her smile tight and eyes rimmed with exhaustion and sank into her seat with a sigh, leaning her head back.

“That… Could have gone worse.” She murmured, almost to herself.

Luka slipped into his seat behind her, catching the faint strain in her voice. “You held up well.” He praised softly.

Matteo remained silent beside her, his gaze fixed forward and locked in his usual stony indifference of her and pretty much everything else. Damon slid in next to Luka and turned his focus to outside the window, yet the awareness of him lingered, filling the quiet space between them with a tension Luka couldn’t seem to shake. He told himself to ignore it, to focus instead on Izzy’s needs and the strained silence radiating from her and Matteo, yet the pull from Damon’s presence thrummed at the edge of his mind like a constant, low hum.

As the car pulled away from the curb, silence thickened around them as they slipped onto a quiet road that stretched on in the darkness. Barely any streetlights illuminated the way, casting long shadows over the road ahead and the interior of their car into near blackness. Luka slid his phone from his pocket, mindlessly scrolling through texts from his men, catching up on the updates he’d missed during the evening’s charade when, without warning, the car jolted violently, veering to the side.

Then came a bone-rattling crunch of metal, a jarring impact that struck Luka like a punch sending his phone flying from his hand.