Chapter Three

Riley

I know the second I've overstayed my welcome at Raven's.

It's not the glares from the bouncers or the weight of Cole's stare across the room—it's the shift in the air. A subtle tension that prickles at the back of my neck.

I glance toward the exit, debating whether I should leave, but before I can make a move, a hand clamps down on my arm.

"Come with me," a low voice says.

I whirl around to face the man holding me. He's tall, dressed in a dark suit with a hard expression that makes it clear he's not asking.

"Let go," I snap, trying to yank my arm free.

But he doesn't let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"You've been asking questions about the wrong man. If you know what's good for you, you'll come quietly."

Fear coils in my stomach, but I shove it down. I didn't come here to back down.

"And if I don't?" I challenge, glaring up at him.

His lips twitch with something that might be amusement. "Then I'll make you."

Before I can respond, he starts dragging me toward the back of the club. I struggle against his grip, but it's like trying to move a brick wall.

"Let her go."

The voice comes from behind us, sharp and commanding.

We both turn to see Cole, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. He looks calm, but there's an edge to his expression that wasn't there before.

"This isn't your business," the man holding me says.

"It is now," Cole says. "If the boss wants to see her, I'll take her."

The man hesitates, his grip on my arm tightening for a moment before he finally lets go.

"Fine," he says, his voice laced with annoyance. "But if she causes trouble, it's on you."

"She won't," Cole replies, his gaze flicking to me. "Will you?"

I don't respond, but the look I give him makes it clear I'm not happy about any of this.

Cole doesn't seem to care. He steps closer, motioning for me to follow him.

"This way," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I hesitate for a moment, glancing back toward the exit. But I know it's too late to leave now. If I walk out of here, I'll just end up looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

The hallway behind Raven's is colder than I expect, the chill biting through my hoodie and sending shivers up my spine. I follow Cole in silence, my mind racing as I try to figure out what exactly I've gotten myself into.

Dom Callahan wants to see me.

Part of me should be terrified. Every story I've heard about Dom paints him as ruthless—a man who doesn't tolerate disrespect, let alone questions from nobodies like me. But another part of me, the part that pushed me into this club in the first place, is ready. This is why I came here, isn't it?

"Keep up," Cole mutters, glancing over his shoulder.

I glare at his back but quicken my pace. I'm not sure what his deal is—why he intervened back in the club or why he is suddenly acting like my escort—but I don't trust him.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

He doesn't answer right away, his boots echoing against the tiled floor as we walk. Finally, he stops in front of a heavy wooden door, resting his hand on the handle before turning to face me.

"To meet the boss," he says.

My stomach twists, but I force myself to meet his gaze. "Why does he want to see me?"

Cole's mouth curves into a small, humorless smile. "Because you made yourself impossible to ignore. Congratulations, sweetheart. You've got Dom Callahan's attention."

Before I can respond, he opens the door and motions for me to go inside.

The room beyond is dimly lit, the glow from a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. It smells faintly of leather and whiskey, and despite its size, it feels suffocating.

And there he is.

Dom sits behind the desk, leaning back in a high-backed chair like he owns the world. He doesn't look up right away, his attention remains on the glass of whiskey in his hand. But when he does, it feels like the entire room shifts.

His eyes are piercing, their dark depths seeming to strip me bare in an instant. His suit is tailored to perfection, the dark fabric stretching over broad shoulders and a frame that radiates power.

This is the man I'm here for. The man I blame for Liam's death.

"Riley," he says. My name rolls off his tongue smoothly, like a predator purring before the kill.

He knows my name.

The realization sends a chill down my spine, but I don't let it show. "You know who I am?"

His lips curve into a wry smile. "Of course. I make it my business to know anyone who thinks they have business with me."

I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms. "I'm not here to play games, Dom. I want answers."

"Answers," he repeats, as if the word amuses him. "And what makes you think you'll get them?"

"Because you owe me," I snap, stepping closer.

He doesn't flinch, doesn't so much as blink. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk as his smile disappears.

"I don't owe anyone," he says, his voice as cold as ice. "Least of all a girl who doesn't know when to keep her nose out of things that don't concern her."

"This does concern me," I shoot back, my voice shaking with anger. "My brother—"

"Liam, yes," he interrupts, his tone clipped. "I know who he is. I know who you are. And I know exactly why you're here."

His words catch me off guard, but I don't let it show. "Then you know I'm not leaving without the truth."

For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he leans back in his chair, swirling the drink in his glass as if he has all the time in the world.

"Liam made mistakes," he says finally. "Big ones. Mistakes that got him into trouble he couldn't get out of."

My chest tightens. "You mean mistakes that got him killed."

Dom's gaze darkens, the air in the room growing heavier. "Liam's choices were his own. If you're looking for someone to blame, I suggest you look elsewhere."

His words are like a slap in the face, and for a moment, I can't breathe.

"You're lying," I say, my voice barely audible against the ringing in my ears. "You think I don't know what kind of man you are? You think I don't know what you did to him?"

Dom stands, the sudden movement making me take a step back. He doesn't shout, doesn't raise his voice. But the sheer force of his presence is enough to make the room feel even smaller.

"Let me make one thing clear," he says, each word precise. "You don't know me. And you don't know what you're talking about. If you did, you'd already be running."

I swallow hard, my resolve wavering under the weight of his glare. But I refuse to back down. "I'm not scared of you."

He steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "You should be."

For a moment, the room is silent, the air between us crackling like a live wire. Then Dom lets out a low chuckle, the sound dark and dangerous.

"You've got guts," he says, his tone almost amused. "Stupid, but gutsy."

I don't respond, my mind racing as I try to figure out what to do next.

"You wanted answers," he says, moving back to his desk. "I'll give you one. Liam's death wasn't my doing. But if you keep digging, you'll find out just how dangerous this world can be. Consider this your only warning."

He sits down, his attention shifting back to the glass in his hand as if I'm not even there.

"Now get out," he says, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

I stand there for a moment, my fists clenched and my heart pounding. But I know better than to push my luck. Without another word, I turn and walk out of the room, the door slamming shut behind me.