DANTE- The Billionaire’s Ghost Vixen

Chapter 5: The Charity of Wolves

"Smile, Vixen. You’re about to be the most expensive thing in this room."

Dante didn’t look at me as he spoke. He was busy adjusting the gold cufflink on his left wrist, his face a mask of granite. We were parked outside the Sterling Museum. The lights of the city reflected off the black hood of the SUV like oil on water.

"My name is Ivy," I muttered, my fingers digging into the velvet seat. "And Jax? If he has so much as a scratch on him when I get back..."

"Focus." Dante’s hand shot out, his fingers threading into my hair and tilting my head back. His grip was firm, possessive. "You have one job. Walk in, find Julian Vane, and get close enough to his phone to let the Vixen interface clone his drive. Do that, and your little mechanic friend gets to go back to his dirt pile."

"What about the 'Feeding'?" I whispered. My throat was dry. "You said I had to drain Elena."

Dante’s eyes darkened. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Plans change. My brother is here tonight. Silas. If he sees you doing anything 'unusual,' he’ll peel the skin off your bones just to see how the tech works. Stay quiet. Stay pretty. Let the System do the heavy lifting."

He let go of my hair and stepped out of the car. I followed, the wind whipping my emerald dress around my legs. I felt like a lamb walking into a den of wolves, and the biggest wolf was holding my hand.

The ballroom was a suffocating cage of gold leaf and classical music. Every person in there had a smile that looked like it had been carved by a surgeon.

"Vivian! Oh my god, you’re actually alive!"

A woman in silk tried to hug me. I stepped back, my heart hammering. Dante moved smoothly between us, his arm sliding around my waist.

"She’s still recovering," Dante said, his voice a low warning. "Doctors say she needs space."

He led me toward the bar. My skin was prickling. It wasn't just the cameras or the fake smiles. It was a cold, draining sensation coming from the corner of the room.

[Warning: High-level energy signature detected. Subject: Silas Moretti. Class: Energy Vampire.]

I looked. Standing near a marble pillar was a man who looked like a thinner, sharper version of Dante. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his eyes were a flat, dead black. He wasn't looking at the art. He was looking at me. He licked his lips like he was staring at a steak.

"Don't look at him," Dante hissed in my ear.

"He's your brother, Dante. Why is he looking at me like I'm lunch?"

"Because to him, you are." Dante leaned in closer, his scent—sandalwood and cold iron—filling my head. "Silas doesn't build things. He consumes them. He knows you aren't Vivian. He can smell the artificial pulse in your neck."

"Then why am I here?" I snapped, my fear turning into a jagged edge of anger. "If he knows, I'm dead."

"Just do the job, Ivy. Find Vane."

He pushed me toward the center of the floor. I felt exposed. Every step in these heels felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire.

[Target Acquired: Julian Vane. Distance: 10 meters. Initiating Seduction Protocol.]

"The hell you are," I whispered. I wasn't a puppet. I was a biker from the slums. I knew how to work a mark without some voice in my head telling me how to move my hips.

I saw Vane—a middle-aged developer with a greedy mouth and sweaty palms. He was holding a glass of scotch and bragging about a new pier project. I moved in, a fake, practiced smile plastered on my face.

"Mr. Vane? I heard you were the only one in the city who could handle the Moretti expansion," I said, my voice dropping an octave.

Vane turned. His eyes bugged out. "Vivian? I heard... well, never mind what I heard. You look ravishing."

"I'm bored, Julian." I stepped into his personal space, my hand brushing his arm. My palm started to itch. The System was waking up. "Dante is talking shop. Take me somewhere quiet? I want to hear about that pier."

Vane’s face turned a mottled red. "Uh, of course. The balcony?"

"Perfect."

As we walked away, I caught a glimpse of Dante. He was standing by the bar, his knuckles white as he gripped his glass. He looked like he wanted to rip Vane’s head off. Good. Let him feel a fraction of what I felt every time he called me 'Number Twelve.'

The balcony was cold. Vane was babbling about zoning laws, his hand creeping toward the small of my back.

[Interface established. Cloned data: 40%... 60%...]

"You're very quiet, Vivian," Vane whispered, leaning in. His breath smelled like old cigarettes. "Dante doesn't deserve a woman like you. He’s a cold fish. Always has been."

"You have no idea," I muttered.

[Data transfer: 100%.]

"I think I've heard enough, Julian," I said, stepping back and shoving his hand off me. The "Vixen" mask was slipping. I wanted to punch his teeth in. "Thanks for the info."

I turned to leave, but a shadow blocked the door.

Silas.

He was leaning against the frame, a cruel smirk on his face. Vane turned pale and scurried past him without a word.

"My, my," Silas purred. His voice sounded like dry leaves skittering on a grave. "Dante really outdid himself this time. The biological integration is almost seamless. Tell me, sweetheart... does it hurt when the power surges?"

"Move," I said, my voice trembling.

Silas reached out, his fingers hovering just an inch from my cheek. I felt the heat leave my body, a sudden, soul-crushing exhaustion hitting me. He was feeding on me just by standing there.

"Dante thinks he can hide his little toys from me," Silas whispered. "But I can feel the 'Architect' watching through your eyes. You’re a masterpiece, Number Twelve. A shame you’re going to burn out so fast."

"Get away from her."

Dante appeared behind Silas. His face was a mask of pure, murderous intent. He didn't say it loud, but the vibration in his voice made the glass in the door rattle.

Silas laughed, stepping back. "Don't get your blood pressure up, brother. I was just admiring the craftsmanship. She’s a bit... leaky, isn't she?"

Silas strolled away, disappearing into the crowd. Dante grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I knew it would leave marks.

"Did he touch you?" he demanded.

"No. Dante, he knows. He called me Number Twelve."

Dante didn't answer. He was staring into the ballroom, but his eyes were glazing over. A sudden tremor ran through his body. He let go of my arm and staggered, his hand going to his chest.

[NEW OBJECTIVE: The Architect is watching.] [Survival Probability: 15%.] [WARNING: Target Dante Moretti’s life force is at CRITICAL levels.]

"Dante?" I reached for him, but the System screamed in my brain.

[DO NOT TOUCH. FEEDING CYCLE INCOMPLETE. HOST AT RISK OF SHUTDOWN.]

"F**k the system!" I grabbed his shoulders.

Dante looked at me, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Ivy..." he whispered. It was the first time he’d used my real name without mocking it.

Then his knees gave out.

The most powerful man in the city collapsed in the middle of the crowded ballroom. A woman screamed. The music stopped.

I knelt over him, my hands glowing with that terrifying, dark light. I could feel the System trying to pull the last of the life out of him, like a vacuum. If he died, the power source for my new heart died too. I’d be a corpse on the floor within minutes.

I looked up. Across the room, through the glass doors, I saw it again.

The Prototype. The mechanical nightmare from the garden.

It was standing on the museum steps, its red eye fixed on me. It raised a metal finger and pointed.

"Dante! Wake up!" I screamed, shaking him.