A sleek white Maserati Quattroporte screeched to a halt directly in front of Hellmoon Club's entrance. Emma Frost wasn't in the mood to be a well-mannered citizen. She didn't have to either. The establishment was hers, at least sixty percent of it.
The guards nodded respectfully as she passed.
"Forget me."
One single command removed the last thirty seconds from their minds. At this point, wiping memories had become as natural as breathing.
She strode through the main club area without acknowledging anyone. Patrons glanced her way like they always did. However, she had no time for her admirers tonight.
The door to her private room opened before she reached it. Her personal residence here was spacious and elegant, dominated by white and silver tones, the superior colors.
Her French maid, Blanche, took off her coat, while her French butler, Blanc, held a silver tray bearing a cappuccino cup prepared exactly to Emma's taste.
Emma accepted the cappuccino from Blanc and settled into her chair. A large display on the wall showed multiple camera feeds from throughout the club.
"Focus on Silver Sable's room."
She nearly spat out her coffee. The table had been pushed aside to make room, and soft music played from speakers. And there they were, moving together with surprising grace. Dante was leading with subtle confidence, his hand firm on Silvija's lower back. The perfect synchronization of their slow waltz deserved to be in the center of a high-class ballroom.
"To have the audacity," Emma muttered, setting down her cup with an audible clank. "She threatens me, and then enjoys a moment with her lover."
Silver Sable's sheer boldness was almost admirable.
'Wait, he is him.'
She had seen him in Felicia's memories. The man who told Felicia about her fated death. Dante and Death, both of whom were most likely mutants.
Blanc cleared his throat softly. "Madame, shall I brief you on the guests?"
Emma waved her hand dismissively, eyes on the screen. "Go ahead."
"Silvija Sablinova. Age twenty-seven. Sovereign of Symkaria and CEO of Silver Sable International. Impeccable reputation in the mercenary circle. Nothing new here." Blanc paused, consulting his tablet. "However, her companion is... interesting."
"Interesting how?"
Although she knew about his mutant identity, she didn't think Blanc would be aware of this fact.
"His name is Dante. No last name on record. He operates under the alias RedEye as a mid-level intelligence broker in Manhattan. Multiple witnesses report he entered Ms. Sablinova's New York office with her and left together."
Emma's eyebrow arched. "Love at first sight? How quaint."
He was handsome, devastatingly so. The kind of face that could make a product campaign successful or break hearts. But that alone wouldn't have captured Silvija Sablinova's interest. The mercenary queen had probably encountered countless attractive men in her line of work.
"What else?"
Blanc's expression remained neutral. "Mr. Dante's financial records show he was practically destitute until very recently. Yet yesterday, he spent over fifteen thousand dollars upgrading his apartment."
"Silver Sable is financing him?"
"Most likely. She paid him a big amount upfront for intelligence services." Blanc paused, then added carefully, "There is something I have observed."
Emma glanced at her butler, the mutant butler was rarely this cryptic with his words. "Explain."
"The confidence he displays. The dignity in his bearing…" Blanc pointed to the screen. "That is not a man who has spent his life scraping by in the underworld. His posture, his movements, the way he carries himself... He seems someone far more significant."
Emma focused on the man. His movements showed no hesitation or nervousness as he led Silver Sable, as if he had practiced it countless times. And the look in Silvija's eyes... Emma had seen lust, affection, even blind love in her decades of reading minds and studying human behavior. What she saw on Silvija Sablinova's face now was adoration of a maiden in love.
'Blatantly showing such weakness. Is she not afraid I'll threaten her with his life?'
Emma finished her cappuccino and set the cup down. "Blanche."
The maid arrived swiftly, holding a different coat. White fur to suit her dress, impossibly soft.
"Time to see for myself who gave Silver Sable her information."
When she reached Sable's private dining room, she simply pushed the door open with no regards to their privacy.
The couple glanced at her before completely disregarding her. Their performance had become more important than whatever they came here to accomplish.
Emma leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watched.
The look in Silvija's eyes definitely wasn't faked. Emma had witnessed enough deception to recognize the real thing. The mercenary queen was genuinely, thoroughly smitten.
Emma reached out with her telepathy, slipping into Silvija's mind easily.
Immediately, she was bombarded with very vivid and wholly lewd thoughts on Silvija's mind—what exactly she wanted to do with Dante after they left this place to make him hers. Emma felt heat rise to her own cheeks.
Before she could withdraw, Dante leaned down and kissed Silvija. The mercenary's mind exploded with lust so intense that the White Queen nearly staggered.
"Enough," Emma muttered, severing the connection.
She wouldn't dirty her own mind with Sable's fantasies. Though she was curious if the man reciprocated such passionate feelings.
As she reached for his mind, her telepathy encountered nothing as it phased through him. Complete, absolute emptiness. As if his mind simply didn't exist. Her telepathy classified her as an Omega-level Mutant, capable of touching any mind on the planet except two mutants.
Her gaze sharpened instantly, every sense going on high alert. Silver Sable didn't bring the man here without a purpose. He was here exactly to counter her telepathy. He was either another Omega-level telepath powerful enough to hide his thoughts completely, or someone with abilities specifically designed to counter mental intrusion.
The kiss ended. Dante pulled back slightly and smiled at Silvija. Then he turned, and his dark eyes fixed directly on Emma.
"Don't read Silvija's mind." His tone was pleasant and friendly, yet the look in her eyes was anything but that. "It's not your private playground."
Emma's lips curved into a professional smile. "I'm free to do whatever I want and go wherever I please."
"Are you?" Dante's smile matched hers, pleasant, polite, and utterly insincere. "Seems to me you're just a child who can't hold conversations without using your telepathy as a crutch."
The insult landed like a slap. Emma felt her jaw tighten. She would have smashed any man with telepathy, unfortunately, it was useless against him.
Sable stared at Dante with surprise. "I didn't know you had a venomous tongue."
"You've seen nothing." Dante released Sable and looked at Emma. "Surprised someone saw through you without telepathy?"
Emma chuckled. "Cheeky little insults won't win you the world. Silver Sable, I'm guessing he'll be the one negotiating terms for the blackmail?"
Dante snorted. "Blackmail is such an ugly word, don't you think? I prefer 'mutually beneficial arrangement' as it saves plenty of inconvenience for both parties."
Silvija adjusted Dante's collar with the casual intimacy of long-time lovers rather than people who had met recently. "Be careful. I'll be really sad if something happens to you."
He laughed at her concern. Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles. "You should worry about Emma more."
Silvija held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. She turned to Emma as she walked past, and her expression shifted into something cold and satisfied. "I pity you for pissing off someone even I can't fathom."
The words sent alarms ringing in Emma's head. She'd known Silvija Sablinova for years, not personally but by reputation. Emma read with her telepathy that the mercenary queen wasn't exaggerating, believing every word she said.
Emma watched the door close behind Silver Sable, then turned her attention back to Dante.
He'd already made himself comfortable, settling into a chair and propping his feet up on the table with utter disrespect.
"You should sit," he said casually. "Though I really don't care if you keep standing."
Emma remained standing, unwilling to sit across from someone's shoes. "Do you think you're invulnerable just because you're immune to my telepathy?"
Dante looked a lot stronger and faster than ordinary people. He probably was. However, it meant nothing. She had Hellions, a group of young mutants who could kill normal people in an instant.
He set his feet down and sat properly. "What I'm capable of is irrelevant. I'll make it simple. You stop going after Norman Osborn's research. In exchange, we bury your mutant identity. Everyone's happy."
Emma laughed. She couldn't help it. "How would you even prove I'm a mutant?"
"I'm sure Silvija can think of something creative."
"Please." Emma waved dismissively. "I have lawyers and enough money to bury any accusation under a mountain of defamation lawsuits."
Dante tilted his head. "What's even in that research that's worth all this trouble?"
"A cure for all human diseases." Emma had a feverish, almost hungry gaze. "Cancer and everything. Norman stumbled onto some ancient technology, and now he's going to hoard it, patent it, sell it to the highest bidders while people suffer."
Dante's expression didn't shift in the slightest. "And you'll give it away for free?"
"Exactly." Emma lifted her chin. "My name will be synonymous with the greatest medical breakthrough in human history. Fame and glory don't even begin to cover it."
The cure was a godsent to accomplish her goal of becoming the greatest woman to ever walk the planet Earth.
"You'll need to stay alive to enjoy that fame and glory." Dante's tone remained casual, almost bored. "It'll only take one thought to kill you. Maybe another to kill that fake moon goddess while I'm at it."
Emma felt her breath stop for a second. Selene, the other forty percent owner and founder of Hellmoon Club—he knew about her. The Inner Circle of Hellmoon Club was a secret known to less than a dozen people worldwide. Selene's true nature as an ancient mutant was even more closely guarded.
'Who betrayed Selene?'
She narrowed her eyes. "Killing us with one word. I'm not so gullible to believe you—"
Words got stuck in her throat as dread washed over her. Dante was still there, still sitting in the same position, still wearing that infuriating half-smile, yet something fundamental had shifted.
As an Omega-level telepath, Emma's senses extended beyond the merely physical. Her intuition, honed by decades of reading emotions and surface thoughts, had become nearly prophetic.
Right now, every single one of those senses was screaming at her to run.
This feeling wasn't a psychic illusion or trick of the mind; she'd have detected that instantly. What she felt was real, primal, absolute… Death.
The man sitting across from her was the embodiment of death. The certainty that he could erase her from existence took root in her heart. Not even Selene at the height of her power had radiated this level of threat.
However, Emma Frost hadn't built an empire by cowering.
She forced herself to straighten, to meet his gaze directly. Her mind raced through possibilities, strategies, or tricks to turn this situation to her advantage.
"What… are you?"
Dante's smile widened, becoming something almost playful. "I am Death's apostle."
"Not the most impressive title," Emma said, pushing through her fear. "Do you really think you can kill me here without consequences?"
"I can't?"
She gestured to their surroundings. "This is my establishment. Cameras and witnesses everywhere. SHIELD is also monitoring mutant activity in this city."
"SHIELD? Won't they be happy I got rid of an Omega-level threat?"
Emma crossed her arms, letting her fear transform into the cold calculation that had evolved her from a naive little girl to the ruthless billionaire. "Then what about the political fallout? My death would trigger investigations that would make your and Silver Sable's life very complicated."
He nodded slowly, as if contemplating the consequences. "That's troubling indeed…"
"Besides, why settle for threats when we could have an arrangement? You're clearly intelligent, powerful, and… " she revealed a small smile, switching tactics to persuasion. "easy on the eyes. Why waste your potential playing bodyguard to a small-nation's queen?"
"Oh, I can be more?" he asked innocently.
She didn't know if he was truly falling for the persuasion or just messing with her. Regardless, she had to keep going.
"Work for me instead. I can offer you far more. Money, I have billions. Power, I have connections in every major industry. Women." Emma leaned closer, her voice taking on that honey-smooth quality that always worked on men. "—more beautiful, more elegant, more sophisticated than Silver Sable. Real women who actually know how to appreciate a man of your... caliber."
It was a deliberate insult, aimed at driving a wedge between Dante and Silvija while simultaneously inflating his ego.
Dante studied her for a long moment, then laughed. Not one that came from amusement but a pitying laughter.
"You really don't understand people, do you?" Dante tapped the table, and the oppressive aura of death faded slightly. "Emma Frost, you've never understood what it means to truly trust someone."
Her gaze sharpened with killing intent, even as something twisted uncomfortably in her chest. "I already have everything. What more can I gain from trusting someone?"
He shook his head in pity. "Yes or no?"
The cold choice made her flinch. Death with one word, life with another. There was nothing more to it.
She took a deep breath and gave a heavy nod that was a battle against her pride. "I'll stop sending my people after Osborn's research."
She couldn't die, not for something that wasn't completely real. Osborn's research could be fake for all she knew. Her young mutant academy, on the other hand, was real, and those kids needed her. There was still Felicia. She only promised to not send any more people. Those already contracted to steal were a fair deal.
"Great choice."
He pushed the chair away and walked toward the door.
Emma found herself sitting down without remembering when she'd moved, suddenly grateful for the support of the chair.
He paused as he gripped the knob and glanced back. "Will you call off the men you've already sent out? You see, I don't want to kill needlessly."
With such a threat, he left, only to show his face again through a crack in the door.
"Don't give me a reason to kill you in the future, Emma frost. The consequences don't scare me. It's just I would rather not kill one of the few people capable of leading the mutant race."
The door clicked shut behind him, and for the final this time.
Emma held her head, repeating his last words. "A leader of the mutant race?"
A scornful chuckle escaped her throat. She, who had built an empire with her ruthlessness, had her heart filled with doubts. Because she truly knew her own capability better than anyone else, that she was undisputedly better than the mutant supremacist Magneto, who had the goal of establishing mutants as superior life forms to humans. His plans would only create conflicts leading to bloodshed for both sides.
She trusted herself to be above the god-syndrome Charles Xavier as well. The man had this weird idealist approach to creating a harmonic world of mutants and humans. As if most people would not harbor resentment against mutants for their special powers.
These doubts, in a sense, felt worse than physically ending her life.
"To understand me to such an extent without telepathy, he is a terrifying man. No—" She shook her head. "It's not right to call him that."
Not a man. Not a mutant. Not a monster either. People like him weren't meant to be categorized among the living. He was a natural force in the likes of an earthquake or hurricane. She had survived him this time, but next time… she'd rather not clash with him. At least not until she found some means to deny him of his terrifying ability to kill someone with a thought.
Because the White Queen Emma Frost utterly despised this feeling of utter defeat.
***
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