His Friend

Luna’s POV

1 year earlier

I watch Justin from across the room, my thoughts swirling. This whole relationship came out of nowhere. We met just yesterday at the club—I was celebrating my birthday, and so was he. Today, we went on a real date, and I learned more about him. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and nothing like the men I usually fall for.

My past is littered with bad boys—leather jackets, tattoos, men who practically wear their rebellion on their skin. But Justin? He’s the opposite of all that. His curly hair looks effortlessly messy, and his beard is short, neatly trimmed, giving him a relaxed, almost carefree vibe. His jawline is sharp, his deep brown eyes warm, inviting. He doesn’t have the sculpted body of someone who spends hours in the gym, but he’s not out of shape either. He’s just... normal. And normal is exactly what I need after being burned so many times.

I smile softly and make my way toward the kitchen, my heels clicking against the floor. But then, my heel slips, and before I know it, I’m falling forward, crashing right into someone.

I glance up, an apology on my lips, but the words never make it out. Instead, I’m caught—trapped, really—by a pair of dark green eyes. The air between us seems to thicken, and my breath hitches. Everything about this man screams dominance, danger, and something I should definitely stay away from. His dark brown hair, almost black, is perfectly styled to the side, giving him a sharp, intense look. He steadies me with one hand, and I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

He smirks, just a small curve of his lips, but it’s enough to make me melt. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even know this guy, but my body is reacting like it’s forgotten every ounce of common sense.

Before I can process it, Justin pulls me back, breaking the spell. His arm wraps around me protectively, and I blink, suddenly aware of the room again. The stranger’s gaze flickers to Justin, then back to me, and I swear my heart is pounding so loudly it’s a wonder no one else can hear it.

“Luna,” Justin says, smiling as if nothing’s amiss. “This is Dante, an old friend.”

Dante. The name sends a chill through me, instantly quenching the spark that had ignited just moments ago.

“Dante?” I repeat, my voice sharper than intended. “As in the Dante? Heaven and Hell Club?”

Justin nods, oblivious, but my eyes narrow. I know exactly who Dante is. I’ve been to the Heaven part of the club—it’s just like any other, loud music, dancing, drinks. But the Hell part? That’s a different story. The rumors are everywhere, and if even half of them are true, this man profits from women. Selling them, using them. Men like him are everything I despise.

I glare at him, my disgust barely concealed. Rob, my ex, used to spend too much time at Dante’s club. It was his playground for cheating, and Dante’s place gave him the perfect cover. Now I’m face-to-face with the man behind it all, and every instinct tells me to run. How can Justin even be friends with someone like this?

“So you two are friends?” Dante asks, his voice smooth, but I hear the edge beneath it.

Justin just laughs, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that’s more for show than anything else. I let him, hoping Dante gets the message—this isn’t happening. Not now, not ever.

When the kiss ends and I open my eyes, Dante is already gone. I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the weird energy he left behind.

“I don’t like him,” I mutter to Justin, the tension still coiling in my stomach.

Justin chuckles, brushing it off. “He’s an alright guy. We hang out a lot outside of work.”

Of course, Justin doesn’t see it. He doesn’t care about the darker side of Dante, the part of him that exploits women and runs a club filled with secrets. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, pushing the thoughts out of my mind. Tonight is supposed to be fun, not a deep dive into my past traumas or the kind of men I’ve sworn off.

But as the party goes on, I can feel Dante’s eyes on me, watching me, and it’s making my skin crawl. He’s observing me like I’m something to be inspected, to be priced, and I hate it. He’s probably wondering how much I’d be worth, trying to figure out if I’d ever end up in his club. The thought makes my blood boil. I’m not for sale.

I turn away from him, refusing to let him see my face anymore. I focus on Justin, on the music, on enjoying the party. But deep down, I know this isn’t over. Not with Dante watching me the way he is. I’ll just have to make sure he knows exactly who he’s dealing with.

6 months Later

Justin’s grip tightens on my hip as he leans down, trailing kisses along my neck. I tilt my head, a soft moan escaping as his lips brush against the sensitive skin. It feels good, grounding, pulling me away from the storm of thoughts that’s been building.

“I’m waiting,” Dante grumbles, his voice cutting through the moment from outside the car.

I press closer to Justin on purpose, and he groans in response. It’s petty, but I don’t care. Dante’s presence has been grating on me more and more lately, and he’s always there, lurking in the background like a shadow I can’t escape.

Justin pulls back with a smile. “I’ll come by after work, yeah?” He whispers, his lips grazing mine in a light kiss.

“Don’t bring Dante,” I murmur, trying to make it a joke but I'm deadly serious.

He laughs, like it’s some inside joke I’m not in on. It’s not funny, though. With a sigh, I slip out of the car and watch them drive off together. When Justin first mentioned that he and Dante were friends, it didn’t seem like an issue. But now? They’re practically inseparable. Whenever they aren't working, Dante’s always tagging along, like some unwanted third wheel. Last night I stayed at Justin's but Dante was there, I'm not sure if he stayed or went home, I gave up and went to bed.

It feels like Justin’s been trying to force some kind of bond between us, but there’s no way I could ever get along with Dante. Just yesterday, I heard about another woman found dead on the streets, brutalized and discarded. And somehow, in my mind, that ties back to Dante’s world—the seedy underbelly of his business. I push the thought away as I unlock my apartment door.

Stepping inside, I scoop up the letters that have piled on the floor and head to the kitchen. As I sit down, I start flicking through the usual bills and junk mail. Then, I spot one—no return address, just my own scrawled across the front. Strange.

I open it, and my fingers freeze. A small card falls out, embossed with a heart and a simple message inside:

I’m coming, Little Deer.

Attached to the card is a necklace—delicate, with a pair of antlers at its center. It’s beautiful, but something about it feels off, like a warning wrapped in a gift.

Taking out my phone, I call Justin. He picks up almost immediately, his voice warm. “Miss me already?”

“Always do,” I say, chuckling. But my voice turns serious. “Did you send me something in the mail?”

“Like what?” he asks, distracted.

“A card with a heart, the words ‘I’m coming, Little Deer,’ and a necklace with antlers.” I swallow hard, waiting.

There’s a pause. “Not from me. Does it have a name on it or anything? Full name, first name?”

I glance at the envelope again. “No sender. Just my address, no name.”

“It’s probably just a mistake, babe. Wrong address,” he says, sounding casual. His words should be reassuring, but they’re not. This isn't the first thing I have got that's unusual.

“Justin...” I stop, feeling the air grow cold around me as I turn the card over. “There’s a picture of me. Asleep. Stapled to the back of the card. It’s one you posted online,” I whisper.

The line goes silent for a beat too long. “Okay, I’m coming over. Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”

When Justin arrives, he’s not alone. Dante is with him. My stomach drops at the sight of him, but I keep it together. Justin walks over, taking the card and necklace from my hands, inspecting them. He glances at the back of the card, where the picture of me sleeping is still stapled.

“Is this everything that came?” he asks, his voice level.

I nod, hugging myself, feeling the unease creep deeper into my bones. “Yes. Why?”

He shrugs, tossing the card and necklace onto the table like they mean nothing. “Ignore it. Whoever it is will get bored.”

I stare at him, incredulous. “You said that last week when someone sent a box of chocolates. And when rose petals were posted through my door. I don’t like it, Justin.”

His expression hardens. “And I told you not to freak out. You’re getting gifts from some random guy. Why should I care instead of getting pissed off?”

I shrink back, shocked by the coldness in his voice.

“Justin, man, that’s a little harsh,” Dante cuts in, giving him a nudge.

Justin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. It’s probably nothing. Some idiot sending you shit. It’s not like he’s stalking you in the middle of the night.” He leans in, kissing my forehead. “I need to get to work. Don’t worry.”

I nod, but the unease doesn’t go away. He and Dante leave, and as soon as the door closes behind them, the apartment feels impossibly empty. The silence presses in, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s terribly wrong. Justin had brushed it off, but I can’t. Not when things have been off between us since the rose petals. Now, after this? It feels like he’s pulling further away.

I glance at the card again, the necklace gleaming under the kitchen light. The image of myself, sleeping, stapled to the back makes my skin crawl. I grab the items, walk to the bin, and throw them out.

He’s right. I need to forget it. But deep down, I know this isn’t over.