~Darius's POV ~
"Sir."
The guards at the entrance bow their heads as soon as I step out of the car. The driver opens the door for me, and I nod once before heading inside.
The club is alive with flashing lights, swaying bodies, the thick scent of alcohol, perfume, and sweat. The bass trembles under my feet as I move deeper into the building, my men close behind, until we reach the hidden stairway that leads to the underground level.
Down here, the air changes. No more music, no more laughter, just the muffled cries of the man being tortured behind a heavy steel door.
Angelos Rassais, Leo's husband, stands over him, gloveless, digging a scalpel into the man's shoulder with full focus. He stops when he notices me.
"Darius." His voice is even, but there's a spark of bloodlust in those dark eyes.
At six-two, he's slightly shorter than I and Leo, though the difference barely matters when height seems to run deep in every Rassais vein.
