Chapter Twenty-Three

Dexter

Spice Strip Club on Grandee Avenue, Watts, Los Angeles…

“Now, this takes me back to my youth,” Axel Sullivan said as he followed Dexter and Rex into the club.

“You’re telling me.” Dexter looked around with a grim smile of remembrance. As a group of friends, there was a time early in varsity days when this kind of joint was their weekly indulgence. Not that they took advantage of the “additional services” offered by the dancers, but like any young, testosterone-filled man, they came to gawk at the sexy, hot, and naked gyrating bodies of the strippers while indulging in an obscene amount of alcohol.

The interior of Spice was a stark contrast to its weathered exterior. Deep crimson walls stretched into shadows, punctuated by strategic spotlighting that created an intimate atmosphere despite the expansive space. Chrome poles gleamed under shifting lights, while plush leather booths hugged the perimeter like dark sentinels.

Dexter’s gaze swept across the main stage, where three dancers moved with sensually practiced grace. The blonde in the center was all legs and confidence as she worked the pole with athletic precision in a very skimpy gold bikini. To her left, a redhead in emerald sequins performed a slow, mesmerizing floor routine. The third, a raven-haired beauty, teased the gathering crowd with calculated indifference. Squinting at the cheering crowd, he ascertained that Theo Russo hadn’t arrived yet. He would, though. It was his preferred hangout for his Friday night excursions.

“Remember that night in our sophomore year?” Rex chuckled as they slid into a booth near the stage. “When Axel here tried to convince that stripper he was a talent scout?”

Dexter chuckled at the memory. “Fuck, yeah. What was her name, again? Crystal?”

“Destiny,” Axel corrected as he shook his head. “And I’ll have you know, I was very convincing until you idiots started making those ridiculous Hollywood producer sound effects behind me.”

“‘Oh dahling, you simply must come to my studio!’” Rex mimicked in an exaggerated accent. “‘We’ll make you a stah!’”

“Yeah, then she dumped that entire pitcher of beer over your head,” Dexter added, grinning at Axel’s disgruntled snort. “Told you she had a degree in biochemistry and to… what was it, again?”

“‘Take your fake casting sofa bullshit back to amateur hour,’” they all quoted in unison as they burst into laughter.

A waitress approached their table in a tight black dress that left little to the imagination. “What can I get you, gentlemen?”

They had just placed their order when movement by the entrance caught Dexter’s eye. “Little boy wonder has arrived,” he grunted as Theo Russo strutted inside with confidence that grinded on Dexter’s nerves. “The little shit was the cause of Violet being targeted by the Phantom Syndicate, but just look at the fuckface. Not a care in the world, not even worried that his sister might’ve been killed by his new best buddies.”

Through the neon-tinted haze, Theo Russo made his entrance like he owned the place with a blonde draped on each arm. One was dressed in a barely-there red mini skirt, and the other in white leather that caught the strobing lights as she walked. His surfer-boy good looks and easy smile seemed to part the crowd before him as his California-bronze skin glowed under the ultraviolet lights.

“My man!” he called out to the bartender with his voice carrying over the pulsing music. “Round of shots for everyone at the bar!” The announcement earned him a chorus of cheers as he high-fived a couple of regulars.

“Look at the fucker,” Dexter muttered. His fingers tightened around his glass. “Playing celebrity while his sister…” The words died in his throat as the image of Violet’s crumpled Mercedes flashed through his mind. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber was still a harsh memory every time he took a breath.

Theo worked the room like a politician, all white teeth and hollow charm. “Joey! My brother, how’s business?” More fist bumps, more laughs. The blondes giggled at his every word, pressing closer. They were oblivious to the darkness they were dancing with.

“Easy,” Rex placed a steadying hand on Dexter’s shoulder. Dexter had no doubt he could feel the tension radiating off his body. “This isn’t the place.”

“The place?” Dexter’s voice was low and dangerous. “Tell me, Rex, what exactly is the right place to remind someone that their actions nearly got their sister killed? When is it convenient to discuss betrayal?”

Across the room, Theo caught sight of them. His smile flickered for just a moment as he recognized Dexter before broadening into something more challenging. He shrugged off his clinging companions and made his way toward their table.

“Well, well,” Theo’s voice dripped with false warmth. “My big sis’ new Loverboy. Dexter Flint as I live and breathe.”

“Do I know you?” Dexter sneered acerbically.

“Ah, come now, Dexie. Don’t be bashful. We both know that you know exactly who I am, as well as I know who you are… we don’t have secrets in the family.” He tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “No, that’s not it. You have a much more authoritative word for what you are to her, don’t you? Ah, yes… her dominant… or is it Master to her slave ?”

“You’d be wise not to flap your lips about something you know jack shit about,” Axel warned in a somber voice. Everyone knew Dexter wasn’t one to instigate a fight, but he was also highly protective of Violet. Theo Russo was barking up the wrong tree by scorning their relationship, especially with Violet still recuperating from the accident.

A tension-filled silence stretched between them, broken only by the thundering bass of the music. Dexter rose slowly from his seat. His movements were deliberate and predatory.

“You know what’s fascinating, Theo?” Dexter’s voice was silk over steel. “How someone can be so monumentally stupid yet survive this long. Must be all that privilege cushioning the falls.”

Theo’s practiced smile tightened. “Watch yourself, asshole.”

“Or what? You’ll run to your new drug lord friends? The ones who nearly killed your sister?” Dexter stepped closer, towering over Theo. “Tell me, did they at least pay well for your family loyalty?”

“You don’t fucking know what you’re talking about,” Theo snarled, but his facade showed fine cracks forming.

“No? Let me break it down for your surfer-boy brain. You sold out your sister. Your own fucking blood. And for what? To play power games with murdering drug pushers?”

The first punch came fast—Theo was quick, Dexter had to give him that—but Dexter had been waiting for it, wanting it. He slipped the punch and countered with a short jab that rocked Theo back.

Chaos erupted. Theo’s goons rushed forward as Rex and Axel moved to intercept. The sound of splintering wood filled the air as someone crashed into a table. On stage, the dancers continued their routines, used to the violence that occasionally erupted beneath their platforms.

Theo fought like a street brawler, all aggressive energy and raw power. He landed a solid hook to Dexter’s ribs, followed by a wild haymaker. Dexter was a master in Krav Maga and had years of training behind his movements. He blocked, redirected, and waited.

“Come on, pretty boy,” Dexter taunted, slipping another punch. “Is that all Daddy’s money taught you?”

With a roar of frustration, Theo overcommitted to a right cross. Dexter moved inside his guard, trapped the arm, and in one fluid motion, sent Theo flying over his hip. The impact on the floor drove the air from Theo’s lungs.

Before he could recover, Dexter had him pinned with one arm twisted behind his back.

“Listen very carefully, you little shit,” Dexter growled in his ear. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because you’re her brother. But if anything—and I mean fucking anything— happens to her again because of you, there won’t be enough left of you for even your mother to identify your corpse.”

“It’s time to go, Dex,” Axel urged as police sirens pierced through the thick blanket of rage clouding Dexter’s mind.

Chest heaving, Dexter stared down at Theo’s prone form. With deliberate slowness, he pressed his knee harder into Theo’s sternum, passing on a silent warning. The pressure wasn’t enough to cause real damage but sufficient to remind Theo of his vulnerability. In that moment of controlled force, Dexter conveyed everything he couldn’t say with words. It was a warning, a promise, and a demonstration of the restraint he was choosing to show.

“Fucking asshole.” With a sound of disgust, he shoved Theo to the floor as he rose. The move was calculated, another reminder that this ending was his choice, not a necessity. He turned and walked out of the club, with Axel and Rex following close behind like shadows.

The wail of sirens grew louder as they emerged into the cool night air. Red and blue lights painted the street in alternating flashes as they reflected off storefront windows and parked cars. They got into Axel’s truck just as the first police cruiser rounded the corner, with tires squealing against the asphalt. The timing was perfect. Theirs wasn’t a desperate escape, but a controlled exit. As they pulled away, Dexter watched the procession of police vehicles in the side mirror, noticing their lights growing smaller until they disappeared entirely.

“Feel any better?” Rex’s questioning look over his shoulder went unanswered.

Dexter’s mind wandered to his years of training, to his sensei’s unwavering insistence on control. Every movement in martial arts was about precision, about maintaining mastery over not just the physical aspects—the power behind each strike, the timing of each block—but the emotional landscape as well. Anger was a luxury a fighter couldn’t afford, and pain was a distraction that could prove fatal. These weren’t just lessons for the dojo but principles that had guided Dexter through life.

Yet tonight, for the first time, that iron grip on his emotions had wavered. Guided by the vision of Violet’s pale face, the line between controlled aggression and unbridled fury had blurred, if only for a moment. It wasn’t just the fight with Theo that disturbed him—it was how close he’d come to letting go of that essential control and how tempting it had been to give in to the rage and completely obliterate the cocky younger man. That momentary lapse, that brief taste of unleashed power, made him realize just how his feelings for Violet had turned him vulnerable.

I fucking better get a hold over myself. Otherwise, I’d fuck up protecting her or lose her in the process.

The last thing he wanted was to turn Violet’s budding feelings for him into hate. Having a brawl with Theo was one thing, but if he had to really hurt him—no matter how she tried to divorce herself from the dark side of her family—he remained her brother, and she would come to hate Dexter.

Theo Russo

One hour later, Newton’s Kitchen, Compton Avenue, Watts, Los Angeles…

The fluorescent lights of the restaurant cast harsh shadows across Theo’s face as he pushed through the door. His fingers absently probed his throbbing jaw. It was a constant reminder of his humiliation earlier that night. He could still feel the imprint of Dexter’s boot like a badge of shame he couldn’t get rid of. Breathing deeply, he relaxed as the familiar scent of soul food and cigarette smoke wrapped around him like an old friend.

Rick Hampton’s tall frame unfolded from behind his usual corner booth. Even at this hour, the drug lord commanded attention with his dark skin gleaming under the lights as the gold chains around his neck caught the glow. Here was a man who had built his empire from nothing, who hadn’t needed a family name to claim his power.

Theo’s mind drifted to Tag’s usual sneering face that he had come to hate over the years. His oldest brother, the almighty Underboss of the Gragna Mafia, had always treated him like some errand boy, even now with him at the age of twenty-eight.

“Just stick to driving, kid. At least it’s the one thing you haven’t fucked up yet,” Tag had said more than once, always dismissing him like he was nothing more than a chauffeur. The memory burned worse than his bruised jaw.

But Rick, he had seen something different in Theo. Where Tag saw him as a liability, Rick recognized potential and had coaxed him to be a part of their group when he could get away from under the Russos’ watchful eyes. The drug lord had started giving him real work—organizing shipments, handling delicate negotiations, and managing territory disputes. Tasks that would make Tag choke on his morning espresso if he knew.

“Rough night?” Rick’s deep voice carried across the empty restaurant as Theo slid into the booth across from him.

The concern in Rick’s tone sounded genuine, unlike Tag’s perpetual condescension. Here, in this dimly lit restaurant in Watts, Theo had found what he’d been chasing since he was sixteen—real power, not the hand-me-down authority that came with the Russo name. Not the years of working as a lowly soldier to prove himself until he was acknowledged as one of them before being allowed to sit at the table where the real decisions were made. Rick had shown him that power wasn’t inherited or needed to be aged before being granted. In the Phantom Syndicate, it was earned, taken, and built from the ground up.

He had given his family one more chance to redeem themselves, except they had shot down his proposal to open a new vein in their business without hearing him out. One he would have made a huge success of. They fucked up, and now he was done with them.

With Rick, every job he trusted him with was another brick in his own foundation, another step away from being just another Russo brother living in Tag’s shadow. In the Phantom Syndicate, his last name meant nothing. Here, he was making his own name.

“But if anything—and I mean fucking anything—happens to her again because of you, there won’t be enough left of you for even your mother to identify your corpse.”

Dexter Flint’s voice echoed in his mind. He watched Rick as he sipped on the drink he had poured. He didn’t want to believe Rick was that man… the one who used him, while Theo believed him to be his savior. A call to Leo on the way here had confirmed what Flint had said. Violet had been in an accident… only it hadn’t been an accident. She had been forced off the road and could very easily have been killed. Theo might be many things, and he might have given her a hard time, but she was his big sister, and he loved and respected her. He admired her because she had the strength to do what he still couldn’t. Yes, he had sided with the enemy, but he didn’t have the guts to openly tell his father and brothers that he had deserted the family… worse, how deeply he had betrayed them.

“My sister’s car was forced off the road,” he said as he studied the big man’s reaction. “She was almost killed.”

“I told you she had to receive the message to back off, Theo.” Rick didn’t bother to lie about the part he had played.

“Fucking hell, Rick! I told you I’d take care of it, and I did. She was—”

“By talking to her?” Rick’s face twisted into a venomous grin. “How naive are you to think for one second she would’ve backed off because you told her to?” Rick chucked down his drink. “I did my homework on your sister, Theo. She’s not a lightweight, and you’re her younger brother. Her reputation as a badass attorney preceded her. She doesn’t back down for anyone. Do you honestly think she would do so just on your say so? Especially since the rest of your family is pushing for the exact opposite.”

“I’m not going to debate this, Rick, but Violet isn’t part of this war you’re raging against the Gragna Mafia. Leave her out of it. I might be much younger than you, but I’m not an idiot. If she gets hurt again, I will lose my shit.”

“And do what, exactly?” Rick’s amusement grinded on Theo’s nerves.

“I’m so fucking sick and tired of everyone belittling my abilities or my intelligence,” Theo sneered. “Heed this warning, Hampton. If you or that piece of meat you call a bodyguard harms Violet, I will not let it go. You will meet another Theo Russo with capabilities no one believes exist. Don’t be the first one to taste his wrath.”

Pushing the drink away, he got up and walked out of the restaurant. He was sick and tired of everyone using or undermining him. The time had come to show them all who he really was. It was time to unleash the dark devil inside him that he had been harvesting since he was sixteen years old.

“Yes, I am about to come into my own. Tonight was the last time I allowed anyone to beat me up just because I had to play the role of the incompetent youngest Russo. Hurting my sister was a big mistake, Hampton, and now you’ve given me a reason to open the gates of the hellhound inside me and rip that motherfucker to pieces.”

Theo struggled to suppress the rising fury inside him as he drove off with screeching tires. He was caught in the spectrum between benevolence and exploitation. He had just realized Rick Hampton was not who he had believed him to be. It was a kick in the gut since in him, he had seen a bright and powerful future evolving. He should’ve realized that the kind of violent criminal Hampton was, elevated him to a totally different level than the Gragna Mafia.

For the first time, Theo questioned the path he was on. At least with his family, he never had to fear for his life. No matter that the three brothers and their father constantly were at odds, they would always be there when it mattered. Protecting their own was ingrained in their psyche from when they were toddlers. Threatening women was the one thing their organization vehemently opposed.

“You just made a huge judgment error, Rick Hampton,” Theo muttered as his thoughts answered the conundrum for him. The drug lord had, in as many words, told him he had given the order to send a message to Violet. He was clever enough to know it meant that Hampton had lied when he’d said he just wanted his father and brothers out of the way so he could take over the reins. Hurting Violet, who had nothing to do with the mafia, proved that his true intentions toward his entire family were much more permanent.

“You were never going to hand me the scepter once my family was in prison, you fucking bastard. Either way, it’s something I’ll deal with separately, but first, I am going to teach that fucking asshole who drove my big sis off the road a lesson. No one hurts the women of the Russo family.”