35. Dante
35
DANTE
T he bar is a cacophony of noise around me. The jukebox blares classic rock, competing with the clack of pool balls and the raucous laughter of off-duty soldiers. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp tang of spilled beer.
I sit at the bar, my fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey. It’s my… fourth? Fifth? I’ve lost count. The alcohol burns a path down my throat, a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest.
I’ve been here for the past hour, desperately trying to numb the pain of Chiara’s betrayal. Each drink pushes the memory of her a little further away, but it’s never far enough. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was her whole world—it all haunts me, mocking what I thought we had.
This bar is a regular haunt for the guys from the compound. It’s familiar, safe, a place where I can lose myself without fear or judgment. Right now, it’s exactly what I need.
As I signal the bartender for another round, I feel a surge of resentment I’ve never allowed myself before. I wasn’t born to the right station. I was never going to be good enough for Chiara, was I? No matter how hard I worked, how loyal I was, I’d always just be a soldier to her family.
The bitterness of this realization mingles with the burn of the whiskey. For the first time in my life, I find myself resenting my lot. Why couldn’t I have been born into a family like the Marinos? Why did I have to fall in love with someone so far out of my reach?
I down the fresh drink in one go, relishing the way it dulls my senses. Tonight, I’m determined to drink until I can forget Chiara’s name, until I can’t feel the ache of losing her.
Because when it comes down to it, I was a fool to think she could ever truly be mine. And that realization hurts more than any bullet ever could.
I signal for another drink and take a swig of whiskey, the burn in my throat a poor distraction from the pain in my chest. The betrayal cuts deeper with each passing moment, each recollection of Chiara’s lies.
She played me for a goddamn fool. All those moments we shared, the promises of love and a future together—were they all just a game to her? Was I just a bit of fun on the side while she pursued Pyotr in earnest?
No wonder she kept pushing off telling her father. She was trying to have her cake and eat it too.
The image of Chiara and Pyotr fucking flashes unbidden in my mind, Chiara underneath him, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she writhes, and I feel sick to my stomach. How could she do this? Was she sleeping with both of us, playing us against each other? Did she leave my bed only to go straight to his?
And now she’s pregnant with his child. The thought is like a knife twisting in my gut. All this time, I thought I knew her. I thought what we had was real, pure, untouchable. But it was all a lie.
I signal for another drink, desperate to drown out these thoughts. The bartender gives me a concerned look but pours anyway. I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks right now.
The betrayal stings so bad it’s almost physical. I trusted her with everything—my heart, my future, my very soul. And she threw it all away for what? A chance at a more prestigious match?
I down the drink in one go again, welcoming the numbness that follows. But even as the alcohol dulls my senses, it can’t touch the core of pain deep inside me. Chiara has shattered something fundamental, something I’m not sure can ever be repaired.
As I sit here, surrounded by the noise and chaos of the bar, I’ve never felt more alone. The girl I thought I knew, the love I thought we shared—it was all a lie. And I don’t know how to move forward from here.
A hand claps down on my shoulder, startling me. It’s Freddy, another soldier, grinning despite the concern in his eyes.
“Come on, Tenebre,” he says jokingly. “We’ve had enough of you moping at the bar. We need you to play pool. I’m getting my ass kicked over there.”
I mutter, “Not in the mood, Freddy. Just leave me alone.”
Freddy’s grin fades as he takes the seat next to me. “What’s going on, man? This isn’t like you.”
I hesitate, unsure how much to say. Finally, I settle on, “The woman I love… she betrayed me.”
Freddy whistles. “Fuck. Catch her in bed with the other guy?”
“Worse. Found out she got pregnant by the other guy.”
Freddy winces. “Jesus Christ. Tough luck, bud.”
I grunt in response, reaching for my drink again. But then Freddy says something that makes my head snap up.
“You know, Dante, sometimes the best way to get over someone is to remember who you were before you met them. You were a badass before her, and you’re still a badass now.”
His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. He’s right. I was someone before Chara, someone strong and respected. I can be that person again.
“You know what?” I say, pushing my glass away. “You’re right. Let’s play some pool.”
Freddy’s face splits into a wide grin. “That’s what I’m talking about!” He helps me to my feet, steadying me as I sway slightly.
As we approach the pool table, the guys erupt in cheers. “Tenebre! Tenebre!” they chant, and for the first time in hours, I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
I grab a cue stick, feeling a surge of determination. Chiara may have broken my heart, but she hasn’t broken me. I'm Dante fucking Tenebre, and it’s time I remembered that.
Despite the alcohol coursing through my system, my skills at the pool table remain sharp. Years of practice and natural talent shine through as I line up each shot with precision.
I sink ball after ball, the satisfying clack echoing through the bar. The opposing team watches with growing dismay as their lead quickly evaporates.
One particularly difficult shot presents itself, the cue ball nestled awkwardly behind the 8-ball, with my target tucked in the far corner. I smirk, feeling a surge of confidence. With a deft flick of the wrist, I execute a perfect jump shot. The cue ball arcs gracefully over the 8-ball, connecting solidly with my target and sending it smoothly into the pocket.
The crowd erupts in cheers. Freddy claps me on the back, his face split in a wide grin. “That’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about, Tenebre!” he whoops.
Even some of the opposing team can’t help but look impressed. I catch one of them shaking his head in disbelief, a grudging smile on his face.
As the game progresses, I pull off increasingly impressive shots. A behind-the-back strike that sinks two balls at once. A tricky bank shot that has the cue ball zigzagging across the table before nudging the 3-ball into a side pocket.
With each successful play, the energy in the room ratchets up. The bystanders are fully invested now, cheering and groaning with each turn of the game. I can hear money changing hands as impromptu bets are made.
Freddy is practically glowing with pride, shouting encouragement and trash-talking the other team in equal measure. “Better just hand over your fuckin’ money now, boys!” he crows. "Tenebre’s on fire tonight!”
As I lean against the wall, waiting for the other team to take their shot, I feel a presence beside me. I turn to see a stunning woman approaching. She’s tall and blonde, with bright blue eyes and a confident smile—the exact opposite of Chiara’s dark, delicate beauty.
She sidles up to me, her body language unmistakably flirtatious. “I couldn’t help but notice your skills,” she purrs, her eyes roaming appreciatively over me. “You’re quite the player.”
I can’t help but smirk, the alcohol in my system lowering my usual inhibitions. “Thanks. I’ve had some practice.”
“I bet you have,” she replies, her voice low and suggestive. She leans in closer, the scent of her perfume enveloping me. “I’m Vivian. And you are…?”
“Dante,” I respond, surprised by how easily I fall into this familiar dance of flirtation. It’s been so long since I’ve engaged in this kind of interaction, having been entirely focused on Chiara for what feels like forever.
Vivian’s hand lightly touches my arm. “Well, Dante, I hope you don’t mind if I stick around to watch the rest of your game. I’d love to see more of your… talents.”
Her words, laden with innuendo, send a thrill through me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt desired like this, openly and without complication.
“I don’t mind at all,” I find myself saying, enjoying the way her eyes light up at my response.
We continue to chat and flirt as the game progresses. Vivian’s witty remarks and open admiration are a balm to my wounded ego. For the first time in hours, I’m not thinking about Chiara or the pain of her betrayal.
Soon, we’re down to the last shot of the game and it’s my turn.
As I line up the final shot, the 8-ball teetering on the edge of a corner pocket, I can feel all eyes on me. The room falls silent in anticipation. With a smooth stroke, I send the cue ball spinning toward its target. It connects with a satisfying thwack , and the 8-ball drops cleanly into the pocket.
The bar erupts in cheers and groans. Freddy throws his arms around me in celebration, while the opposing team looks on in stunned defeat.
For a moment, basking in the glow of victory and the admiration of the crowd, I feel like myself again. The pain of Chiara’s betrayal fades to the background, overshadowed by the rush of the game and the camaraderie of my friends.
Vivian sidles up to me, her hand casually brushing against my arm. “Dante,” she purrs, eyes sparkling with mischief, “why don’t you teach me how to play pool? I could use a few pointers.”
Normally, I’d brush her off, uninterested in her shallow attempts to get my attention. But now, something dark and vengeful coils inside me. Chiara’s betrayal gnaws at me, the image of her pregnant with another man’s child searing into my mind. If she wants to treat our relationship so meaninglessly, maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should show her what it feels like.
I smirk, feeling a surge of retaliation. “Sure, Vivian,” I say, letting my gaze linger on her curves. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I grab a cue, handing it to her. She takes it, her fingers brushing mine in a way that’s far from accidental. I step behind her, positioning her hands on the cue, my body pressing slightly against hers.
“First, you need to get the stance right,” I say, my voice low and smooth. I place my hands on her hips, guiding her into position. “Like this.”
Vivian shivers under my touch, and I can feel her excitement. “Am I doing it right?” she asks, glancing back at me with a coy smile.
“Perfect,” I murmur, leaning in closer. “Now, keep your eyes on the ball.”
I guide her through the motions, my hands lingering on hers, our bodies pressed together. She’s practically trembling with anticipation, and I lean in, my breath hot against her ear. “You’re a fast learner, Vivian.”
She giggles, her eyes sparkling with desire. “I have a good teacher.”
We play a few more shots, the air between us thick with tension. I flirt heavily, whispering suggestive comments in her ear, my hands lingering on her body longer than necessary. She’s loving every minute of it, her responses becoming bolder, her touches more intimate.
Tonight, I’m not the heartbroken lover or the conflicted soldier. I’m just Dante Tenebre, pool shark extraordinaire, and perhaps I’ll get lucky enough to get laid.
And for now, that's enough.