Chapter 32 #2
I look up at him, swallowing the lump in my throat, letting him steer me as the room spins with reds, golds, blacks, and gilded masks.
The guests drift around us, lost in their own experience.
He leans in slightly, guiding me into an effortless turn.
His gaze flicks toward the crowd as though he’s reading every face through every mask.
“Men like Alexei,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, “don’t fear death, exactly. They fear the loss of control. Losing the narrative. Losing ownership. That’s what drives them more than anything.”
My brow furrows, and he notices. His voice drops even lower, brushing against my ear.
“I feel it too,” he admits. “Every day. That fear of losing control—of letting something slip through my fingers. You’d think after everything I’ve done, I wouldn’t care.
But I do. I suppose it’s the curse no monster can escape. ”
I narrow my eyes to study his face. “You kill a lot of people,” I say, curious. “Do you feel much when you do it? It didn’t seem like it.”
He smiles faintly, guiding me through the rhythm of the ballroom.
“Not always. Some of it gets buried.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting beneath the mask.
“My father…forced me to take my first life when I was younger. The experience broke something. I’ve never been able to piece it back together.
..whatever it was I lost that day. After that, all my life was, was violence and darkness. Until Adela.”
I can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto my face. He catches it, and there’s a flicker of amusement and pride in his gaze.
“It makes sense that you’re fearful of losing control,” I say quietly.
“Most people who possess the character traits that allow them to seize control have often experienced something in their childhood that made them feel real loss. Or even abandonment. Either that, or a sense of safety was ripped away from them before. So the only way forward is for their subconscious to protect them.”
His dark brows rise, our dance slowing as he really listens to me.
“I’d say people like you are masters at something called predictive intuition. You see the spaces others leave open and the intentions that hide behind faces. It’s a unique kind of pattern recognition, but I’ve personally seen this in people like...”
Rafe tilts his head, studying me. “People like? Me? What else do you see in me, dear therapist?” His smile reveals that beautiful dimple on his cheek.
I steady a breath, my gaze getting lost in his.
He remains silent, allowing me to study him closely.
“Even though you’ve been very welcoming and helpful, which I cannot tell you enough how much I appreciate,” I pause.
“But your behavior matches anti-social personality disorder quite accurately. Perhaps even a little sociopathy. They’re closely related, but there are slight differences. And I see them all in you.”
He laughs genuinely then, not a sound I entirely expected.
“I like that. You’re clever. You…notice.
” He presses a little closer, guiding me around another turn, and the warmth of him steadies me.
“You may not be able to wield a gun or throw a hard punch,” he says, voice teasing, “but you’re dangerous in your own way, Emma.
Power isn’t always force—it’s understanding. Awareness. You have that.”
I open my mouth to say something, but the thought abandons me when he leans down, his lips brushing my ear.
“You’re a beautiful, soft soul. But softness gets devoured unless it’s weaponized. You’re our greatest weapon tonight.”
The words jolt through me, a heady mix of adrenaline and dread, but also…
confidence. His chest brushes mine, and I let the rhythm carry us, letting his dominance keep me tethered while the world swirls in wealthy chaos.
The music swells again, and I let myself move exactly as he wants.
Rafe is indeed a dangerous man. I could see it very quickly in the way he carries himself.
He’s the definition of a cunning predator in this world.
The ballroom narrows down to him and me, the warmth of his body and the intense weight of his power. The orchestra finally softens, strings fading out to silence. The chandeliers dim just a fraction, enough to draw every eye toward the stage. And then he walks out.
I freeze, and Rafe tightens his hold on me. I've never really seen him perform in person before as the lead singer of Dissonance. I've watched him countless times before his fame, but since he crashed back into my life when he was supposed to be lying low, I haven't seen him sing.
Jude steps into the gold wash of light, looking exhausted in that black suit. It looks...amazing on him. But I know he’d never normally wear something so pristine. The gold mask arcs over his cheekbones and brow, elegant and cruel at once, turning him into a beautiful yet tragic piece of art.
He doesn’t search the crowd or even introduce himself. He simply stands there, a gorgeous guitar slung around his shoulder. Alexei lingers near the edge of the stage for a moment before retreating into the shadows with the man who made Adriana uncomfortable earlier.
The first notes of “Inevitable” drift through the ballroom.
My fingers clamp down on Rafe’s shoulders before I can stop myself.
I remember this song. I remember the night Jude finished it.
We were on his parents’ dock, and he was barefoot, pacing and asking if it was too much.
Asking if it was honest enough. I remember jumping up and kissing him mid-verse because it felt like he’d reached into his chest and handed me a precious piece of his soul.
Now his voice fills a space crawling with evil.
It’s still just as beautiful as ever, with that signature rasp that always made me melt. But there’s a hollowness beneath it, a cavity where warmth once lived. I feel it even if no one else does.
“Loving you was never safe,
But I’d bleed for it all the same.
If pain’s the price I have to pay,
Then let it hurt—don’t take her name.”
My vision blurs. He changed the lyrics. Is...is he singing about me?
“It’s okay,” Rafe murmurs near my ear, his voice steady. “Stay with me. Everything is unfolding exactly as it should.”
I focus on his breathing and the sensation of his body against mine. And on the hardening I'm feeling inside my chest as I watch the ghost of the man I love strum his guitar.
“I’d do it again, I’d take the fall,
I’d lose myself, I’d lose it all.
Love was never kind to me…
But losing you was worse than anything.”
Something inside me cracks a little at the changed lyrics. His voice lifts, powerful and aching. But he never scans the room. He never seeks anyone. He sings like he’s performing inside a cage no one else can see. Like...he doesn’t think anyone can save him from this.
When the final note fades, applause erupts, and he bows slightly before walking off the stage. He never even smiled.
Rafe lowers his mouth to my ear. “Now.”
I nearly jolt, my spell broken. I nod, and we carefully move through the crowd. I keep my shoulders back, my expression composed behind the mask. I am not a woman who just watched the love of her life sing to a room full of predators. I am an investor. A strategist. A guest who belongs here.
I’m one of them.
Alexei stands near the center of the ballroom, speaking to two men in charcoal suits. He notices us approaching almost immediately, his gaze sharp beneath his mask. Predators never miss movement.
I step forward first. Rafe remains slightly behind me, close enough that I feel the heat of him, far enough that it looks intentional.
“Your performer is extraordinary,” I say smoothly.
Alexei studies me with interest. “He’s more than that.”
There’s something possessive in the correction.
I incline my head slightly. “Of course he is. I imagine he’s useful in many ways. I admire him.”
A venomous smile forms on his face. “Are you interested in buying time with him?”
My stomach clenches, and nausea surges, but I keep my face neutral. Think, Emma. “Do you do that often? I’m not someone who particularly enjoys someone who’s been…” I trail off, hating myself for every word I’m saying. “Used up.”
He laughs, running a hand through his slicked back salt-and-pepper hair. “No. I definitely have interest, and have something lined up soon. But if you'd like to be the first…I can arrange it.”
So I don’t vomit everywhere, I force my gaze over to where Jude is talking with Adriana. The asshole is talking about selling the man I love into sex slavery. "No, that's quite alright."
His posture shifts almost imperceptibly. He leans in a fraction, intrigued. “So what can I do for you, beautiful?” he asks.
I let my gaze drift toward the stage, just briefly, as though I’m savoring the idea. “I’d like to commission a private event,” I reply. “Invitation-only. No phones. No publicity. An evening built entirely around indulgence.” I emphasize the last three words.
His brows lift. “Indulgence? I like that. What’s in it for his performance?
“Four million,” I add seductively. “For exclusivity.”
Before he can respond, Rafe steps forward with effortless timing.
“Alexei Morozov,” he says, extending his hand. “Rafe Vaughan.”
There’s suddenly a tightening around Alexei’s mouth as recognition flickers in his expression. “Vaughan,” he repeats, taking his hand. “I’ve heard of your reach. The Dark Monster of New York, right?”
Rafe smiles like he’s proud of the title. “That is correct. No one touches what’s mine.”
Alexei narrows his gaze and tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “Impressive work with Waylon and Waleria. They always pissed me off. Especially Waleria. She was only in power because of him.”
Rafe tilts his head. “They got what they deserved.”