16. Dante

Chapter 16

Dante

A fter I dropped Camille off at her place, my restlessness took me to the Devil’s Outcast’s compound.

Who the fuck was I kidding?

It wasn’t my restlessness, it was what was causing it—jealousy.

Any moron would have been able to figure out that when I left Camille and Kage alone at my place, Kage had done more than talk to her. He’d fucked her. He’s made it clear that despite her finding out that he was engaged, she was still his. In turn, she still wanted him. And he wasn’t letting her go.

I couldn’t blame the guy. If it was me, I'd have done the same thing, not caring that Kage stood just outside. But when I’d walked back in the house and seen them, the fact I would have done exactly what Kage had done didn’t stop me from wanting to punch Kage until Camille wouldn’t even be able to recognize him. Then fuck Camille until she was screaming my name, not his.

At that moment, I wasn’t the evolved Dante I’d been trying to become. I wasn’t the school counselor or the guy able to tell Camille that I was willing to share her. No, I was the old Dante—the one I tried to bury under layers of self-control and redemption.

But that Dante, the one who had roared down highways on a Harley with nothing but rage and a death wish fueling him, was never really gone. He was just biding his time, waiting for moments like this, when jealousy and anger cracked open the lid I’d nailed shut, letting him claw his way back to the surface.

I parked my bike and strolled into the compound. Despite the money the MC had put into making this place high-end, at least as far as MC compounds went, it reeked of stale beer, sweat, and desperation—the kind that clings to you when you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to prove. I’d been that guy once, and I felt myself slipping back into that skin like it was second nature. Here, the only rules that mattered were the ones you could enforce with your fists, and I was ready to lay down the law.

Some of the guys nodded at me while others gave me wary glances. They could probably see the storm brewing inside me. The bartender slid a shot of whiskey my way without a word. I downed it in one gulp, savoring the burn as it seared its way down my throat. All it did was stoke the darkness of my jealousy.

I slammed the glass down on the counter. I wanted a fight. I wanted to smash something, break someone—anything to get rid of the image of Kage’s lips on Camille. It gnawed at me, making my blood boil.

And just like that, I spotted him—Slade, a cocky son of a bitch who’d always pushed my buttons. He was sitting at a table in the corner, dealing cards with a few other Outcasts, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The moment he saw me looking at him, that smug grin of his widened.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Dante the Saint,” Slade drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Finally got sick of hanging around, playing Daddy to a bunch of richy-rich kids?"

My fists were curled, the desire to feel bone crunch under my knuckles overwhelming.

Slade’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it got bigger. He was itching for a fight too, and he knew exactly how to push my buttons. “Looks like someone’s got his panties in a twist. What happened, Dante? Did that blond bitch you've been panting for throw you aside for someone else?”

I flew out of my seat and lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up out of his chair. The table flipped over, cards and beer flying everywhere. I didn’t care. I just wanted to smash his face in, to feel the release that only violence could bring.

My fist connected with his jaw, the impact sending a jolt of satisfaction through me. The room erupted into chaos as the other guys scrambled to get out of the way. Slade swung back, catching me in the ribs, but I barely felt it. Pain was just fuel for the fire burning inside me.

I hit him again, sending him crashing to the floor. I was on him in an instant, ready to finish what I’d started. Suddenly, I felt rough hands grab me and pull me off Slade. I growled and fought back, stopping when Razor, the MC president, roared in my face. “Knock it off. You want to beat the hell out of someone? Fight the guys who decided to peddle heroin to some of your precious students tonight.”

I felt my body go rigid at Razor’s words, my blood running cold. I glanced at Slade, who had picked himself off the floor and was glaring at me. “That’s right, counselor,” he sneered. “You’ve got competition.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Razor snapped. “Dante’s competition is our fucking competition, you idiot.”

“Did you catch these guys?” I bit out, Slade forgotten. My entire focus was now on the bastards who were probably selling poison to CU students.

“We tracked them. They’re at Devil’s Engine. Now, you gonna go with us, show them they can’t cut into our territory, or are you gonna stay here and fight Slade like two clueless kids in high school?”

“I’m going with you to Devil’s Engine.”

Razor grinned. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” The men holding me released me with a shove. “Alright, fuckers!” Razor shouted. “I already assigned the six guys who are coming with us. Let’s ride.”

We geared up, the air thick with anticipation and the smell of leather and gasoline. When we were ready, we all revved up our bikes and tore out of the compound, the roar of engines drowning out the voice in my head that was screaming at me not to do this. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I needed to defend my territory and make sure the only drugs CU students got their hands on were the drugs I supplied the MC. Drugs that I knew weren’t laced with fentanyl or any other shit.

When we got to Devil’s Engine, we dismounted, the sound of our boots hitting the pavement like a warning shot. Along with Razor, Vance, Talon, Slasher, Mad Dog, Hop, and Rusty, I walked into Devil’s Engine. My gaze immediately went to Raye, the owner of the bar, who had eyes on a group of bikers sporting long beards and Black Serpent vests at the pool tables.

It happened fast. As we strode toward the bearded bikers, the usual crowd parted like the sea, a mix of fear and excitement on their faces. The Black Serpents stood, smirks on their ugly mugs.

Razor led, his voice calm but carrying, "You’ve been dropping drugs in our territory.”

A broad-shouldered brute with a scar running down his face stepped closer, locking eyes with Razor. It was a silent standoff, a moment charged with the kind of tension that precedes chaos. “You have the wrong guys.”

Razor smirked. “You really going to deny it? One of my own men saw you selling.”

“It wasn’t us, man. It was?—”

“Fuck these guys, Bones. Let’s kick their asses.”

Bones scowled. “Shut up, Travis.”

But Travis didn’t listen. Instead, Travis lunged at Vance. Vance’s reaction was instant, a fist meeting the attacker halfway, and just like that, the bar erupted.

Chairs scraped, bottles shattered, and fists flew. I landed punches and deflected blows with ease. Then I found myself squared off with a Serpent, a wiry guy with too much confidence. He swung, I dodged, and then I countered with a right hook that connected with his jaw.

Around me, the chaos spread, patrons scrambling for cover, shouts and grunts filling the air alongside the sound of breaking glass and the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

As the brawl intensified, the air filled with the crack of fists meeting flesh. The thick, heavy scent of blood filled the air. A glint of metal caught my eye—a Serpent, his face twisted in rage, pulled a knife from his belt, aiming straight for Razor's unaware back.

Adrenaline surged through me as I lunged forward, my arm wrapping around the guy’s neck in a tight headlock. The surprise in his eyes was almost comical, but there was no time to savor it. I squeezed, the pressure forcing him to drop the knife with a clatter.

"Nice try, asshole," I hissed into his ear, right before shoving him. He stumbled, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. Two steps forward, and my fist connected with his face, once, twice, a third time, each hit with the intention of putting him down and keeping him there. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Around me, the fight raged on. Razor was throwing punches like a man possessed, each one landing with a thud that echoed over the noise.

Slasher was in the thick of it too, his laughter almost manic as he dodged a swing and retaliated with a brutal uppercut that sent another Serpent staggering back. "Come on, you fuckers!" he bellowed, egging them on with a wild grin.

Talon moved through the fray with a calm that was almost eerie, his movements precise, each strike deliberate and effective. He didn't waste words, his actions speaking volumes as one rival after another fell.

As quickly as it had erupted, the fight began to wane, the Serpents' numbers dwindling as one by one we annihilated them. Finally, the final Serpent still standing hit the ground after I clocked him. I straddled his body and methodically pounded his face. In my mind, I saw not just the potential threat to my students but Rhianna’s lifeless body. I hit him again and again, his face becoming less recognizable with every punch. All I saw was red…until something made me freeze, my fist in the air. An image flashed in my mind, a memory of Camille’s face, the way she looked at me when I was the man she trusted, the man she thought was better than this.

I hesitated, my fist hovering above the Serpent’s bloodied face. I found my feet and staggered back, breathing hard, my knuckles raw and throbbing. The old Dante was a monster, a force of destruction that I’d barely managed to contain all these years. But he was still inside me, and tonight, he’d won.

Without a word, I turned to Razor. “Are you going to deliver them to where they came from and give the message that this is what will happen to anyone else who tries to sell their shit here?”

Razor grinned. “You know it.”

“Good. Then I’m done here.” I glanced at Vance and Talon, who were staring at me silently, their expressions blank. I walked out, ignoring the stares and the blood dripping from my hands.

As I got on my bike and rode off, I knew I’d fucked up. Not by defending this territory—the whole reason I sold drugs to the MC was to make sure CU kids didn’t get bad shit that killed them—but because of the pleasure I took in doing so. Camille deserved better than this, better than the man I’d just been. But as I rode through the night, the wind whipping past me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard I tried to change, the old Dante would always be lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this to drag me back down into the darkness.

And that was the scariest thing of all—because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to keep him buried for good.