Page 62 of Kill Feed

He raises a brow.

“Okay, moderately murdery.”

Our coffee arrives, and Emily lingers half a second too long when she sets mine down. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she says, before disappearing again.

“Sheesh,” Lucas exhales. “She’s into you, my dude.”

“Not my type,” I state, bringing my lips to the rim of the cup, taking a sip.

“Not your gender either… maybe if she had a di-”

“Don’t even fucking go there,” I interrupt mid-sentence, shaking my head.

He lets out a teasing laugh, satisfied with the joke he couldn’t finish. He wastes no time diving headfirst into casual conversation, and it pours out of him effortlessly.

I let him build momentum. There’s a rhythm to conversation. You don’t interrupt mid-joke—unless it’s some deranged sentence about my sexuality—then you wait for the dip.

He pauses to sip his drink, and that’s the dip.

“Was Xavier doing a documentary about Kill Feed?” I ask placidly, fingers curling around the cup.

Lucas almost spits out his coffee, coughing in the process. “Dude, w-what?” He coughs some more before straightening his back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “W-why would you think that?”

I open my mouth to speak, but before the words could leave me, the bell above the door chimes and an undeniable presence enters.

Dante steps inside, followed by rays of sunshine. Seems like the clouds parted just in time for him to make an entrance.

He’s in dark jeans, a white Tee, a leather jacket, clean white sneakers that don’t look cheap, and a cap. His tattoo peeks out from the collar of his jacket, climbing up his neck—the red roses palpable against the monotone of his outerwear.

Dante strolls to the counter with an ease that reads as casual to anyone who isn’t paying attention as he chimes, “Americano,” to Emily, voice smooth and purposely loud enough for me to hear. “No sugar.”

As she turns to make it, he pivots, leaning his hip against the counter, looking casual as hell for a fucking killer.

Then he looks at me.

Directly, chestnut eyes boring into mine. A slow smirk curves at the corner of his mouth, and I’m already grinding my teeth.

Lucas keeps talking, unaware of the situation. “Look, I know it’s hard without Xavier. But I mean shit, I don’t think he had anything to do with that…” The word vomit continues, but my attention has already swayed and latched onto the blonde at the counter.

The grin never falters, even when he turns back around to retrieve his coffee and take a seat three fucking tables away from me. He’s positioned in a way to directly face me.

I tear my gaze away, focusing back onto Lucas. That fuck can’t do anything in the daylight, not in front of all these people in the middle of a cafe.

“… I mean, it could be about anything, you know. Besides, Kill Feed’s like this digital myth anyway,” Lucas says, rubbing at the back of his neck, attention down on the patterns on the table.

“Myth? You sounded very sure of yourself that night at the bar. Convincing even,” I add, cocking a brow at him. The nerves under my skin start to prickle, but I can’t tell if the irritation is toward Lucas’s deflective behavior or Dante’s presence.

My phone buzzes on the table, and the screen lights up with a message from him. I take it instantly and open our chat.

Dante: “Is this the loud one? You know, the one you beat up.

Dante: “Enjoying your coffee?”

He’s trying to provoke me. I lock my phone, flipping it face down.

“Yeah, I know, but… like, I’m just saying-”

“What are you saying?” I interject.