Chapter 7: DUDE, THAT’S NOT ME!

DANIEL'S POV

The club was alive with energy, pulsating with the heavy beat of bass and the wild cheers of my men. Music blasted from the speakers, mixing with the thick scent of expensive whiskey, sweat, and cigarette smoke. Colored lights flashed across the room, illuminating the dancing bodies and the satisfied smirks of men who knew they had just pulled off something big.

It was a night of celebration.

The successful hijack of the drugs from the Dogs of Hell’s hideout had put us all in high spirits. We had taken what belonged to us— no, what I had claimed as mine. It wasn’t just about the drugs. It was about power. About making a statement.

And tonight, my men were basking in that victory.

Women draped themselves over the winners, their laughter cutting through the music. Drinks poured freely, expensive bottles cracked open as if money meant nothing. It was chaos, but it was my kind of chaos.

I leaned back in my chair, watching the scene unfold before me with satisfaction. But even in this moment of triumph, my mind wasn’t at ease.

Something felt… off.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus. Once. Twice. No answer.

I frowned, tapping my fingers on the table impatiently. Marcus always answered. He knew better than to ignore my calls. I checked the time— late, but not too late for him to pick up.

Was he asleep? Unlikely.

Ignoring me? Possible.

Either way, my gut told me something was wrong.

I waved at two of my men, sharp-eyed guys I trusted to handle things without questions.

"Go to Marcus’ house," I instructed, my voice low but firm. "Keep an eye on it. Make sure nothing is off."

They nodded without hesitation and disappeared into the crowd.

I didn’t take chances when it came to the people I cared about.

Still, there was something else that gnawed at me, something that had been bothering me since my brief conversation with Angel.

What he had said.

The tone of his voice.

"I’m sorry that you were arrested."

I wasn’t.

I had never been arrested.

So why the hell would Angel say that?

My instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. Could Gideon be playing a new game? Or was one of the Pillars of Earth pulling the strings behind my back?

I needed answers. And I needed them fast.

Later that night, as I lay flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind raced through endless possibilities.

What the hell was going on?

---

Morning came fast.

I wasn’t the type to waste time on questions when I could go out and get answers.

I decided to visit Marcus at his store. I wanted to check on him, see how he was doing. After all, we hadn’t spoken since last night.

As my car pulled up in front of the small shop, one of my men stepped forward and opened the door for me. The moment I stepped out, I felt eyes on me.

Marcus.

He was standing a short distance away, watching me intently. The look on his face wasn’t one of fear, or even annoyance— it was relief.

Like he had been waiting for me.

I walked closer, my eyes locked on his.

Before I could say a word, Marcus kissed me.

I froze.

What the hell?

This was new. Marcus and I weren’t at that level. Sure, we were close, but not this close.

His lips lingered for just a second too long before he pulled away, his hands gripping mine tightly. His hold was firm, almost desperate.

"I'm sorry I left this morning without telling you," Marcus said softly, his voice filled with guilt.

I stared at him, confused. What the fuck is he talking about?

I should have pulled away, should have questioned him right then and there. But I didn’t.

Instead, I smiled, playing along.

"There’s no problem," I said smoothly.

Marcus seemed to relax a little, but then his eyes moved— trailing up to my hair. His brows furrowed slightly as if something didn’t quite make sense to him.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.

"Your hair looks longer," he said, tilting his head slightly.

For a split second, I almost laughed. Now it made sense.

"Oh, really?" I said, smirking. "Maybe you're just getting a clearer view."

That was it. That was the proof I needed.

Angel had been right.

Someone who looked exactly like me was in this city.

My imposter wasn’t just pretending to be me.

He wanted my life.

---

Marcus invited me inside, and I took a seat, pretending to be relaxed. But my thoughts were spinning.

How was this possible?

Who the hell was this other me?

And what was his endgame?

“Can I sleep over at your place again tonight?” I asked casually, watching Marcus’s reaction.

His face lit up. “Sure, anything for you.”

That confirmed it. Someone else had been staying with Marcus, pretending to be me.

I observed the store as Marcus attended to his customers. It was always busy, filled with different kinds of people. But today, something felt different.

The customers feared me.

I saw it in their eyes— the hesitation, the way they avoided looking at me directly.

It wasn’t new for people to fear me. I wasn’t exactly known for my kindness. I was a drug dealer, a high-level criminal in Hell's Kitchen. My presence alone was enough to make people nervous.

But this was different.

The fear in their eyes wasn’t just out of respect or intimidation.

It was like I had done something. Something worse than usual.

My presence was bad for business. If I stayed any longer, Marcus would start losing money.

I stood up. "I’m leaving."

Marcus looked disappointed. "So soon?"

"Yeah," I said, glancing around. "My staying here is affecting a lot. I know you can see it."

Marcus sighed but nodded. We hugged briefly before I turned to leave.

Just as I reached the door, his voice stopped me cold.

"Should I prepare your favorite tonight?"

I froze.

Slowly, I turned to look at him. "My… my favorite?"

"Yeah," Marcus smiled. "Spaghetti with fried chicken."

My blood ran cold.

I had never told Marcus what my favorite food was.

Who the hell was feeding him this information?

This wasn’t a random coincidence. This wasn’t a mistake.

This was a game.

And whoever this fake Daniel was, he was playing to win.

I clenched my fists, forcing a smile.

"Alright," I said calmly. "That sounds good."

Then I walked out of the store, my heart pounding.

This imposter had already crossed a line.

He had kissed my man.

He had eaten my favorite food.

He had walked around the city wearing my face.

But what he didn’t know was this—

I don’t make mistakes.

And when I find him, there will be hell to pay.