The Warning

Chapter 5: The Warning

The moment Dante disappeared from view, Isla exhaled slowly, forcing her hands to unclench from her lap.

Antonio DeLuca was here.

The man who had stolen her father’s life, who had ripped her family apart.

She wanted to see him—needed to.

But she couldn’t move.

Dante had ordered her to stay, and defying him so soon would only raise suspicion.

She reached for the half-empty glass of champagne on the table, her fingers tightening around the stem as she took a slow sip. Her throat burned, but it was nothing compared to the fire inside her. The urge to storm through those doors and come face-to-face with the man who had ruined her life was overwhelming, but she forced herself to breathe.

Not yet.

This wasn’t just about revenge—it was about destruction. One wrong move, one hasty decision, and she would lose everything.

The club pulsed around her, oblivious to the war raging within her. Music pounded, the scent of expensive liquor and sweat thick in the air. Women laughed, men whispered promises they wouldn’t keep, and life continued as though nothing had changed.

But for Isla, everything had.

Then—

A presence.

A dark, heavy shadow sliding into the seat Dante had just occupied.

Luca Moretti.

Dante’s right-hand man. His enforcer. His shadow.

Luca leaned back against the booth, resting an arm along the back of the seat. He didn’t say anything right away, just studied her with that sharp, assessing gaze.

She met his stare head-on, refusing to show any sign of discomfort.

"You don’t listen very well, do you?" he finally murmured.

Isla tilted her head slightly. "I don’t know what you mean."

Luca exhaled, a quiet, humorless chuckle. "Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You and I both know Dante is interested in you. That’s a problem."

A slow, careful smirk curled her lips. "For who?"

Luca’s jaw tightened. "For you."

She leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Why? What do you think he’s going to do to me?"

Luca didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze drag over her, as if trying to decide just how much to say.

Finally, he leaned forward, mirroring her posture, their faces only inches apart. "Let me give you some advice," he murmured. "Dante doesn’t do infatuation. He doesn’t do fascination. When he wants something, he takes it. And when he gets bored…" He sat back, his expression unreadable. "He destroys it."

A chill ran down Isla’s spine, but she kept her expression neutral. "Sounds dramatic."

Luca’s lips twitched in something that almost resembled amusement. "Maybe. But it’s the truth."

She exhaled slowly, resting her chin on her hand. "You’re warning me."

Luca studied her, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes. "I’m telling you to walk away."

She gave a soft, breathy laugh. "And if I don’t?"

Luca’s stare turned colder. "Then I hope you’re ready for what comes next."

The way he said it—so final, so certain—sent another shiver down her spine.

Isla wasn’t stupid.

She knew what Dante was capable of.

But she also knew she wasn’t going to walk away.

Not when she was this close.

Not when the man who had stolen everything from her was just behind that door.

She forced another smirk, tilting her head. "You don’t strike me as the type to care about a girl like me."

Luca’s lips curved slightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. "I don’t. But I do care about keeping things clean. And you?" His gaze dropped, sweeping over her in a way that was both assessing and dismissive. "You’re a mess waiting to happen."

Anger simmered beneath her skin, but she swallowed it down.

Luca Moretti was smart. Too smart.

He saw something in her—something dangerous.

She needed to be careful.

So, she let out a small, amused breath and leaned back. "Noted. Anything else?"

Luca exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re stubborn."

She smiled. "So I’ve been told."

Silence stretched between them, thick with something neither of them said aloud.

Then, finally, Luca pushed himself up from the seat. "If you’re smart, you’ll take the money you make here and disappear."

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost.

Isla let out a slow breath, forcing herself to relax.

Dante was dangerous.

But Luca Moretti might be just as deadly.

And she was caught between them.

She picked up her glass, swirling the champagne as she thought.

Luca’s warning wasn’t just for show. He meant it.

He wasn’t just Dante’s right-hand man—he was his protector. His enforcer.

And right now, he saw her as a threat.

She needed to be more careful.

She needed to play the game better.

Because she wasn’t leaving.

Not until every DeLuca was ruined.

Especially the one who had stolen her father’s life.

Her fingers tightened around her glass, her heart steady now.

Let them come.

She was ready.

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