Their Dolcezza (Discontinued)

05 || Threat

I stare up at this stranger, his cold gaze piercing mine as my fingers tighten around the hilt of my dagger, positioned an inch away from his neck, just as Lucien had taught me. I might have considered not reaching for the dagger had it not been for the menacing aura emanating from him. His gaze, moments before he approached, sent an icy shiver through me, enveloping me in fear's suffocating embrace. It was unmistakable – this man had a dangerous air about him, stemming from the frigid, lethal intensity in his eyes.

His jet-black hair is styled messily yet stylishly at the same time, his sharp facial features cutting through the dimness of the night. His piercing grey eyes scrutinize me as though I'm beneath his notice.

Despite the blade at his throat, his grip on my shoulder doesn't falter. He appears almost disinterested, bored even, as if this life-threatening moment is nothing more than a trivial inconvenience.

His nonchalance feels almost insulting, as if my actions are inconsequential in his grand scheme of things.

"Let go of me, or I swear I'll slice your throat right here," I blurt out, my voice laced with a mix of fear and bravado. My heart races at a frantic pace; I had to get home as soon as possible, getting caught sneaking out was not an option, not tonight. Not ever.

"Relax," he remarks, his attention fixated elsewhere.

My gaze follows his line of sight and lands on a group of four armed men aiming their guns directly at me. Just who the hell was this man? Among them stands the very boy who had offered his help to me moments ago–a boy that I now owe. Stupid. That is what I am, but I can't think of this now. I had to focus, and try to get out of this without being shot.

"This girl couldn't even scratch me if she tried," he asserts, oozing with arrogance, as if my dagger weren't right at his throat. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him.

That cocky bastard.

"Wanna bet?"  I retort, my voice laced with a mix of determination and uncertainty. I hold my ground, the blade poised in a precarious balance at his throat. All it takes is one of them to shoot me, I remind myself.

I don't have a death wish though I'd rather die than be married off like a pawn by my father. Rather die than see my sister married off that way.

He hums as his gaze returns to me—actually hums—as if we were having a polite cup of tea together. As I hold the dagger steady, he casually pushes it aside with the tip of his finger. My strength is laughable in comparison to... to the strength in his lone finger?

His damned finger was stronger than my entire arm? Shoot me now. Get it over with.

Another pang of shock hits me as I watch blood bead up and trickle down his finger's path, staining my blade, yet there's not even a flinch, not the slightest indication of discomfort. It's an unsettling sight, witnessing someone unfazed by the injury they've incurred.

I had to be dreaming, its the only thing that makes sense now.

"You know," he purrs, his words dripping with menace. "A girl like you shouldn't be out here all by yourself. Bad things happen to girls who go where they shouldn't."

Did– did he just threaten me?

Before I can give it much thought, he tightens his grip on my shoulder, then releases abruptly and strides away. The other four men holster their guns and follow him as if they were his lackeys—the thought alone sets off an unsettling wave of fear within me.

Had that been a member of the camorra mafia I'd surely be dead. Or at least I would've if they'd found out who I was.

Without another thought, I rush back home, relieved to be away.