Chapter Five: The Tipping point

Saturday nights at Club Vault were Novalee's time to let off steam before her day off Sunday. After a week of juggling her day job’s chaos, the scary drama with Dante and unexpected incidents, like the absurd one with Hera and the delivery man, Nova was glad for this familiar rhythm. She wasn’t stewing over work drama tonight. She was lost in the beat of the bass and the hum of energy around her, manning her post like a performer in her own right.

She stood near the Violet Wand stage, flaunting her confidence as much as her curvy frame. The clipboard and tip jar sat purposefully on a cocktail table beside her, but it wasn't just her luminous presence drawing attention. She caught the curious glances of patrons—some hesitant, others intrigued—eyeing the table’s display of sleek, electrifying devices.

“God, there are way too many people in black suits out on the deck,” Greysen said, startling her as they returned from their smoke break. Their tone carried an edge of suspicion. “Must’ve been a funeral or something.”

Novalee chuckled but felt a twinge of unease. “Sounds weird for people from a funeral to come to a fetish club.”

Greysen busied themselves with the equipment, calling out the next name on the signup list: “Dominus Reign!”

Nova glanced at the cluster of onlookers as her mind drifted—back to last week’s encounter with Dante Santoro. A man like him was impossible to forget, though she dearly wished she could. Cigarette smoke inside a building—of all places. She remembered how his white eyes pierced her with sharp amusement when she stood her ground. He’d been used to instant compliance, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse to listen.

“I'm heading to the bathroom,” she called to Greysen, earning an absent wave in reply.

Nova slipped past patrons toward the back, noting a pair of sharp-dressed men stationed outside the men's restroom door. The vague thought crossed her mind—security for someone important? She dismissed it. It wasn’t her business.

But as she passed, a hand clamped around her arm, yanking her sideways.

She barely had time to gasp before she was pulled into the dimly lit restroom, slammed against cold tiles of the wall with brutal force and a hand clamped over her throat. The throbbing music from outside drowned her scream not to mention the hand starving her lungs of oxygen, leaving only the claustrophobic silence between her and her captor. Her wild gaze locked onto a face she was beginning to recognize all too well: Dante Santoro.

Even through his unnecessary sunglasses, those glassy white irises burned into hers, his grip unyielding. Cigarette smoke and leather clung to him with his expensive cologne, blending with his overpowering presence.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said, his tone lethally calm, “we’re going to talk.”

Nova froze, trembling beneath his steely grip. Dante’s menace was palpable, but his words betrayed a predator who reveled in control rather than impulse.

Dante’s men had been right—Novalee was special. Fiery in a way he rarely encountered, with enough audacity to challenge him, no less. He’d spent days replaying their first meeting, half amused, half irritated. A nobody telling him off like he was ordinary. As if.

Tonight, standing in this club that practically vibrated with indulgence, he recognized her instantly. The way she drew eyes from across the room without even trying stirred something in him—a mixture of curiosity and predatory intent.

But curiosity had given way to compulsion when she dared walk past his men unbothered. Did she think she was safe? That he’d forgotten? That wasn’t how his world worked. Dante didn’t let slights go unanswered.

“Stay against that wall,” Dante commanded, his voice cold steel. “We’ll have a little chat. Nod if you understand.”

Heart pounding, Novalee nodded quickly, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. The moment his hand left her throat, she crumpled to her knees, coughing. His shadow loomed over her like a dark omen as he lit another cigarette.

Dante spoke, his voice cutting through her fear like a razor. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

When she didn’t respond, he laughed—a chilling sound devoid of humor.

“You don’t. Figures.” His expression darkened. “Do you know who the son of the Blackwing Mafia is? You don’t speak to me the way you did unless you’re begging for punishment.”

Despite her trembling, Nova mustered the faintest spark of defiance. “Did you forget who you are?” she shot back, standing slowly, and moving away from the safety of the wall. Her hands shook, but she adjusted her skirt and brushed off the filthy floor. “Because if you did, I have the DJ announce a lost child.”

For a split second, she saw his composure crack. But it lasted only a moment before his lips curved into an icy smile. 

She took his silence and bolted for the door. He cut in front of her but she was ready for that, her fist connecting with his jaw to knock him away. Dante swore, gripping his now bleeding lip as his other hand took hold of her hair and threw her back on the bathroom floor. Using foot to trip her.

Landing hard against the floor. The fall had all the nerves in her back screaming for her. Head smacking against the tile and causing stars to fill her vision. The tears she had been fighting back came forth. Elbow skidding on the grout to open up the soft skin. Sliding a little back and making sure anything on the floor was grounded into her body and clothes. Urine mixed with the smell of Dante who followed her down to the floor. Landing over her smaller form and pinning her to the ground. He covered her completely even though she was not a skinny girl. If her head wasn’t in a daze she would have felt claustrophobic in his bulk. Sick as the blood from his lip dripped on her cheek. So much muscle held in a three piece suit. His hard bulk against her soft.

“Big talk for someone who has no power here,” he said, voice dripping with menace. “You’re lucky I find you intriguing, or you’d already be in pieces.”

“God, for a fat annoying girl you sure have looks that could kill any man dead.” His voice dripped with venom as he pinned her arms to either side of her head.

His glasses had fallen off showing the full force of his white iris’. The light caught something on her left hand and drew his attention to the glint. “Would you look at that?”

With force that could break her wrist he lifted her hand to show her wedding ring that had turned the diamond to the inside of her hand. “Someone had the idea to claim you.”

The haze had cleared to a point in her mind. His words took longer to register. When they did and how he had her against the floor had her swallow a panicked breath and buck against him with a whimper. Novalee’s breaths coming out in small pants that she was fighting to turn to screams. Maybe someone would hear her over the music. God help her, this was not where she wanted to be.

“So,” Dante said, gathering both of her wrists into a single hold with one hand above her head while his knees moved between her legs. Tears sprang to her eyes at his actions. “Married, not a virgin I am assuming. That’s annoying, I love making my women bleed.”

Even with her bucking and struggling under him, Dante was an immovable object on top of her. His free hand moving to her cheek in a caress that felt like a lover, like the one he had done in the office during their first meeting. It made her insides want to come out of her mouth. His hand moved down to her neck squeezing again to cut off her screams to panicked whimpers. 

“Nothing is going to stop this.” His ice eyes froze her in place. “This is going to happen. No one will come to help you. I own this club. I own the police. No one will listen to you. I wonder if you will even tell your husband, James is his name, right? He works in shipping. Even your high school friend out on stage. Greyson.”

His hand snapped to her chest. Feeling her heartbeat falter at his threat. Whatever he was going to do, which was obvious at this point, if she told anyone he would hurt them. 

As if to drive that point home he made sure she looked into his eyes as he said, “I will kill him if you say a word. Any person you tell I will slit their throat and fuck you in their blood. Even that little friend out on the stage.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. He had seen her with Greysen all night. Seen them joking around. Hugging, talking to each other like the siblings they believed they were. The fact he knew they were high school friends meant he was doing his research on her. He could know her family. That SUV following from the freeway, when had it started before they got on the freeway? He had them as leverage even now for what he was going to do. His cocky smile affirmed her thoughts. Smirking as she stilled under him.

“Good girl.”

His hand squeezed her right breast causing her to gasp. Taking the nipple and pinch until she screamed just to show her that no one was coming to her rescue. The echo off the tiles ringing in her ears as they ended in a sob and he moved straight to the hem of her skirt that was already riding up over her hips from the position they were in. Nevermind that when he placed himself between her legs he had gotten so close that her legs bent at the knees. 

Pulling her red lace panties to the side, he dipped his fingers inside of her.

“What’s this?” Surprise and amusement crossed his face as he pulled on the string of her tampon. Pulling it from her body and bringing it up to see her period blood coating the cotton.

She was on her period. Maybe he would be disgusted and leave her alone.

“Oh you don’t know how much of a sign this is to me.” He brought the dangling tampon close to his face and sniffed before taking the tip into his mouth to suck on her blood.

Disgust overcame her panic. He was fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before this shit just proved it. He hummed in satisfaction. As if he was sampling a cherry straight from the tree after it had perfectly ripened. 

His eyes opened and fell to her horrified face with a smile. Stuffing the tampon in his pocket, he reached to his front and began to loosen his belt. The sound of his zipper broke her trance.

“You see, I am a man in love with blood.” He pulled his pants down to release himself. Novalee found the strength to struggle against him. It was no use but she felt better trying rather than just sitting there. “That is why I was disappointed that you aren't a virgin. I love that coating of blood on my cock. Blood just has that different feel then the normal lubrication.”

“Please stop.” She whimpered out. Trying to move away when she felt his manhood against her opening. “You don’t have to do this. I am sorry for anything I said or did to offend-” 

He cut her off by slamming into her. He was huge. So much bigger than her husband who was a perfect size for her. This man just hurt. Her blood helped but it didn't matter when there was no foreplay to open her up to his size. So much thicker, so much longer. He did not fit all the way in and the pain only doubled when he tried.

His hand, with her period blood still on it from when he had stuffed her tampon in his pocket, covered her mouth. He hummed a soft shush against her ear. Licking the outer edge before his voice caressed her hearing like velvet. She hated it.

“I do have to do this. The fact you drew attention to yourself and happened to be on your monthly when I planned to teach you a lesson for your insubordination just proves this was a sign from god that I was meant to have you.” He pulled almost all the way out. Not speaking to hear the slurp of her walls coating him.

As he slammed into her again, his hand muffled her scream. His face showed no cockiness. Only pure delight and ecstasy. Novalee bucked up against him. Tugging on his grip to pull her hands free. Vaguely she remembered a defensive move she could do if ever in this position. The fight was not gone and she would do all she could until the end. 

Bringing her legs over his, she hooked her feet around his ankle. He was too busy burying his face in her hair to think anything of her movements until she straightened her legs in a spread eagle sort of way. It pulled him down and out of her as his legs were no longer holding his body up. All his weight was on her chest.

Before he could gather what she was doing, the grip on her wrists loosened. Pulling her right arm free, she wiped it to her left. Keeping her arm straight until she was able to hook her arm around his neck, squeeze his head into her armpit and use the leverage while releasing his left leg to push herself up and turn so she was on top of him. Or at least over his chest when she got her legs untangled from his and planted her chest over his. Using her legs to keep him pinned and the hold of his neck choking him she had a few seconds before his hands reached up to wrap around her chest and squeeze the breath from her lungs in a bear hug. 

“Atlas. Dom. Get in here.” Dante commanted. His voice was still powerful despite being muffled by her side.

Novalle felt like a child being pulled apart from her brother as they fought. She was ripped away from the hold on her attacker. Thick arms wrapping around her chest as all the air in her lungs was squeezed out of her like toothpaste from the tube. 

“Pin her to the ground. Dom, you keep those damn legs down.” Dante coughed as he stood up to regain himself.

Two men had come when summoned. She vaguely recognized Atlas but the other had been a part of the sea of henchmen faces. Both took a hold of her like she was just a doll. Getting her on the floor again as Atlas pinned her arms and the other her legs. She kicked and squirmed the whole way down. 

Once immobilized against the floor. Dante looked over Novalee who still fought and thrashed against being restrained against the floor. He was panting in anger. It seemed like his white eyes were tinged with red now as he moved toward her. It was unnerving but Novale didn’t care. She was trying to get the upper hand again to get out of here.

A sharp pain collided with her cheek. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth. There was going to be a bruise there as water filled her vision. While in her daze from getting a punch to the side of the face, Dante climbed back over her. Gripping her chin with his hand and bringing his face to hers with a slight evil smile over his lips. He looked like he had just won the lottery.

His voice was cold and soft. He chilled Novalee to the bone and caused her to focus on him through the blackness at the edges of her vision. 

“Your fight, the way you can catch me off guard just shows me more and more that what I am about to do is just the beginning of our time together.” He slammed into her again as his mouth covered hers in a kiss that had her lips cut on her teeth.

Pulling up her shirt, her bra with it, he took a hold of her breasts. Using them as a grip while he drove her body into the hard floor. Sucking the air from her lungs. One hand reaching up to cut the blood flow on her throat. She drifted in and out of consciousness. Only the sickening sound of flesh slamming against flesh echoing through the bathroom in rhythm to the heavy bass. 

Still with his lips against hers, she formed the idea to get ahold of his bottom lip and bite down. His blood now mixed with hers in her mouth. He let out a growl of anger as his fist connected with her gut. The air was punched out of her lungs as she let go of his lip in a gasp for air. 

Dante did not give her much time to recover. Pile driving into her again as he body pushed down over her and his hand covered her mouth. Nova was only allowed to panting breaths through her nose. Trying to bite his hand, she found he was pushing too hard against her, his thumb under her chin to keep it closed as he basically smashed her face into the floor. The pain had her screaming in her mouth and his hand. 

“Naughty little star. God I love this.” Dante's venomous voice sang into her dazed head as the whole fight he didn't once break the rhythm of violating her.

Time was unknown to Novalee. It could have been a few minutes or hours that he filled his need with her body. When he finally got close, he didn’t even bother to pull out. In fact he drove in deeper. Dom let go over her legs so Dante could grip her love handles. Moving his knees more under her ass and getting her into a position to bury himself into her cervix. The angle hurt and she screamed as he released a growl. His hot seed was spilling inside her. The tears followed down her cheeks as she looked up to the black ceiling. 

Her body gave out. She had failed to stop him. He got what she was not willing to give. She didn’t know how she was going to face James. If she did tell him, Dante said he would kill him. The cops weren’t an option if the mafia boss’s words were true. Novalee didn't even know if she would make it out of this nightclub.

The daze was broken as she felt Dante moving above her. Numbness having her lay there and watch as he pulled out of her and stood up. Dom took her solely in his grip. Raising her up to stand limply as Atlas, face an expression of stone fixed her panties, pulled down her skirt and pulled up her top to cover her breasts before moving to take her other arm and hold her weight between them. Besides her hair being a mess and the bruise on her right cheek beginning to show, she looked presentable. Sort of. They did not bother to wipe the blood from her face and semon dripping down her inner thigh.

Novalee’s eyes looked to Dante who stood there on the other side of the bathroom. His white glass eyes drinking her in as his hand moved up and down his member. She was finally able to see it after feeling it inside her. He was average in length but his thickness was what had hurt the most. Her period blood coated his length. Hand sliding to the base before pulling up to the tip and off taking most of the blood into his hand. 

She should have felt horror and disgust again as he brought his hand up to his mouth and began to lick his palm clean. A cold shutter was all she could manage as she looked away from him and into the broken mirror over the sink. Finally seeing her appearance and taking in fully what he had done to her. 

The dim glow of the cracked mirror fractured Novalee's reflection into scattered shards of herself. She hung limply between Dante’s two goons, their rough hands gripping her arms as if holding up a discarded marionette. She fought to suppress her trembling, her head lowered to avoid meeting Dante’s piercing, glassy white eyes in the mirror.

He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the grimy tiles. A distorted grin spread across the reflection of his face—a predator basking in its triumph. Dante examined her bruised face, one side beginning to swell into a stark reminder of his cruelty, yet pride gleamed in his eyes.

His fingertips brushed the tender, discolored flesh beneath her jaw, tilting her face toward the harsh light. His voice came, low and calculated. Seeing what he could with the blood still on her flesh.

“See what you made me do?” he murmured, moving behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder and locking eyes with her reflection. His tone carried an unnerving mixture of chastisement and satisfaction. “If you’d stayed still—cooperated—we wouldn’t be here. I would have taken what I wanted, and you’d have gone home. Instead, you’ve inconvenienced me. Even left your own mark.”

Referring to the cut lip from her punch and bite. Strangely, he eyes even showed pride as he looked those over.

He buried his face in her hair as if savoring the faint notes of her shampoo—a grotesque parody of intimacy. Novalee's shallow breathing quickened; she felt trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake. His words crawled into her mind, needling at her consciousness: What was his plan for her now?

His voice snapped her back. "What’s your excuse going to be when they ask? How will you explain away this?" His eyes drifted lazily toward her bruises.

She swallowed hard, mustering enough clarity to find her voice. “A drunk guy,” she croaked out, the words spilling hurriedly. “Hit me in the face by accident. Security threw him out before I could get his name.”

Dante’s pale eyes narrowed as he held her gaze through the mirror, weighing her story. A twisted smirk tugged at his lips.

“And the lip?” he asked, motioning with a tilt of his chin to the cut that stung with every word she spoke.

Novalee hesitated for only a beat. “A guard... He bumped into me while pulling the guy away.”

He wiped her lip with a wet thumb, then stuck it in his mouth to taste her blood. She shuddered, her stomach churning at the spectacle. The seconds stretched on, silent save for her sharp breaths.

Finally, he gave a slow, sardonic nod. “Convincing enough. Say your lines well, little star, and they might even believe you. If you don’t-”

“I understand,” she whispered, every word dragged from her soul. She did not want the reminder that he would kill whomever she told and fuck her in their blood.

Dante chuckled. “Good girl.”

Atlas and Dom released her. Novalee barely caught her weight with her own two feet. Legs like jelly. There was only a blower to dry her hands, Dante pulled her limp form to a stall, tearing pieces of toilet paper free and kneeling before her. His hands were methodical yet invasive as he cleaned the remnants of his violation from her skin. His comment stabbed at her dignity as he finished: “I never kneel for anyone. Yet, with you, it felt... necessary. Like cleaning up a pet.”

Her vision blurred. Every molecule of her being screamed to move—to run—but terror pinned her in place. Standing he took a clean wad of paper and wiped the blood from her face and neck just before Dante leaned in one final time to take in her scent that was now mixed with his. Stepping aside and nodding toward the door.

“Leave now,” he said, lighting another cigarette. Smoke curled around his face, casting shadows that morphed his features into something monstrous—a demon lurking in the recesses of the room. “Before I decide I’m not finished with you.”

Greysen spotted Novalee weaving unsteadily through the crowd. Their relief upon seeing her quickly morphed into alarm. The stage lights caught the shadow on her cheek—a bruise swelling beneath her eye. Dropping the clipboard, they intercepted her at the base of the small stage.

“Nova.” Their voice was laced with concern. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing.” Novalee’s voice came out too chipper—practiced but faltering. “Some drunk asshole elbowed me in the face. Security already took care of him.” She turned to grab her coat, her back toward Greysen as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

Greysen didn’t buy it. They were observant, picking up on the strain in her movements, the effort it took for her to keep her smile plastered in place. Before Greysen could press her further, commotion erupted by the exit. Security hauled a stumbling drunk toward the alley door.

“I didn’t do nothin’!” the man slurred. “I didn’t hit no girl!”

Novalee flinched as she spotted two men in tailored black suits slipping into the alley. She recognized them—Dante’s lackeys. They were setting the scene.

Greysen let out a low whistle. “Damn. Guess you weren’t kidding.” They hesitated, glancing toward the equipment. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can close down early and walk you home.”

“No!” The word shot out with too much force. Novalee softened her tone. “It’s fine. Just a headache. I’m heading straight home, I promise.”

Their hesitation lingered, but finally, Greysen sighed, pulling a folded hundred dollar bill from the tip jar. They tucked it gently between Novalee’s breasts, careful not to hurt her further.

“Take this. Call if you need me, okay? And text when you’re home safe.”

Novalee gave a tight nod, thankful for the unspoken trust Greysen offered. The embrace they shared didn’t fix the brokenness inside her, but it anchored her, grounding her in that fleeting moment of warmth.

From the VIP balcony, Dante watched Novalee dart through the parking lot toward her car. Smoke curled lazily from his lips as the cherry-scented cigarette burned to its end. A black car eased into traffic a moment later, trailing her white Impala with practiced subtlety.

Dante held the wad of soiled paper in his pocket with the tampon, clenching it tightly. Satisfaction simmered in his chest, but it wasn’t enough. His pale eyes gleamed in the shadows.