Episode 2

Memories That Burn

From the Perspective of Dante Salvatore

There is no peace for men who learn to survive as wolves.

And I, Dante Salvatore, forgot how to trust years ago.

Life taught me with brutality what many learn with time. I lost my father at twenty-three, at a time when I was still too naive to understand the real power of betrayal. When he died, he left a fortune, expanding businesses, and a surname that became a target for vultures. My mother, heartbroken, could barely stand. My younger sister... well, she still believed the world was fair. I didn't.

That's when I transformed. I left behind the easy smile, compassion, and second chances. If I wanted to keep what was ours, I had to become someone capable of scaring with a look. And it worked. My uncles failed to take anything from us, but the price was high: my soul ceased to belong to me.

Today I am 26 years old. I own what many dream of and fear at the same time. A surname that opens doors and generates uncomfortable silences. Control of businesses ranging from real estate to nighttime entertainment. And a heart that no longer believes in promises.

My friends are few, counted on the fingers of one hand, and they all know that my loyalty is as valuable as it is dangerous. I don't give second chances. I don't believe in that.

And yet... there is something that haunts me.

Or rather, someone.

Memory

Three years ago, on my worst night, I was on the verge of death. It was a car accident. Or that's what they made me believe. I know it was provoked. I never managed to prove it, but I felt it. That car didn't fail by chance. And that night, amidst the smoke, the smell of gasoline, and the pain... there was a girl. I don't remember her face completely. Only her brown eyes, her trembling voice calling for help, and her small hands holding mine tightly as she pulled me out of the car. She saved me. And disappeared. Like a damn ghost.

I've been trying to find her ever since. But the cameras at the scene weren't working. Suspiciously. Someone erased them or sabotaged them so I wouldn't find out what really happened. And no matter how many contacts I've moved, nothing. Sometimes I think I imagined her. But no. I know it was real. Because I managed to take her crescent moon pendant when she was pulling me out, every time I dream of that night, I see her. And I wake up with the same desire to know who she was... and why she didn't come back.

"Mr. Salvatore, everything is ready in the private room. Do you want us to prepare the special bed?" asked Luca, one of the managers of Eclipse, my newest bar.

"Do it," I replied in a dry tone, while adjusting the watch on my wrist. "And keep security alert tonight. I don't want any surprises."

Luca nodded and disappeared quickly.

The Eclipse was a personal project. Not for the money. I had plenty of that. It was more like a refuge. Here I could observe people, study them, understand what they wanted without them saying it. I liked that. The silence between the shouts. The fleeting glances. The truths hidden in a glass.

That night, the place was packed. Soft music, warm lights, and the typical mix of laughter and secrets floating in the air.

From the second floor, my usual corner, I watched the groups enjoy the night. I didn't like socializing without a reason, and the few people who could approach knew it well. In that game, only the loyal survived. The rest were discarded.

Then I saw her.

Red dress, measured neckline, but with that kind of elegance that doesn't need to be evident to attract attention. It wasn't just her body that stood out, it was her way of moving... as if she was trying to fit into a party that wasn't entirely hers. She smiled, conversed with a friend, but her eyes looked different.

I am intrigued by people who try to hide by being the center.

I lost sight of her for a moment when she walked away from the group. I saw her walking down the side hallway, and something tensed my body. A hunch.

The camera showed that she was heading to my office.

I didn't bother to notify security. I went down on my own.

And I sat down without haste.

There she was. Standing in the middle of the office, looking at the shelves as if looking for a quick excuse.

Her expression of fright was so genuine that I didn't know whether to laugh or frown.

"I don't usually tolerate interruptions," I said, letting my tone do its job.

She startled.

"I'm sorry... it was a mistake. I was looking for the bathroom, I didn't mean to come in. I didn't know that—"

"Clearly you didn't know," I cut her off.

She was nervous, but not trembling. It was weird. People usually shrink in my presence, as if my mere figure was enough to intimidate. She... didn't. Her discomfort was different. A mixture of shame and... attraction?

No, I couldn't be sure. But her eyes didn't lie.

I approached. Slow. Controlled. I wanted to see if she would back down. She didn't.

"Do you always walk in without knocking or only when you're dressed like this?" I asked, without changing my tone.

Her reaction was immediate. The blush rose to her cheeks like a sudden storm. She looked down. For a moment, it seemed like she was scolding herself.

"What did you think was going to happen if you provoked him?" I told myself. But I didn't regret it.

She composed herself and responded with some dignity. I appreciated it.

"I didn't know there was someone... and this... is not what it seems."

"Relax," I murmured, tilting my head slightly. It wasn't a full smile, just a subtle curve that didn't reach my eyes. "I'm not offended... just curious."

"Curious?"

"Not just anyone walks into this office without an invitation."

"And not just anyone should have it so poorly marked," she shot back. Direct.

That made me raise an eyebrow.

She had character. Although she tried to appear calm, she wasn't. And yet, she didn't run away. That also intrigued me.

"Dante Salvatore," I introduced myself.

Silence.

I expected a reaction, but all I received was a response that made me turn my head slightly:

"Just a mistake."

And she left.

Without looking back.

I stared at her back as she walked away. And for the first time in a long time, something in my chest moved.