Chapter 20 - Dominic
Letting Isabella go was the right decision.
I tell myself that over and over again, trying to ignore the dull ache in my chest.
It had to be done.
She was getting too close. Asking too many questions. Stepping into a world that would swallow her whole without hesitation.
And worse—she was making me care.
I sit at the edge of my bed, my elbows resting on my knees, rubbing my hands together as I inhale deeply. The room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the golden glow of the bedside lamp. The air is thick with the lingering scent of Isabella’s perfume—a soft and warm scent I’ve memorized without meaning to.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s for the best.
The moment I let someone become a weakness, I lose.
I’ve already lost too much.
She doesn’t belong in my world, and if last night wasn’t proof enough that I can’t protect everyone, then nothing will be. Jayden is gone. Charles is missing. The note left with the severed finger still burns in my mind.
The rat’s already inside.
It means one thing—someone in my inner circle is working against me. Someone who knew where Jayden was before he was taken. Someone who has been feeding information to the wrong people.
That’s what needs my attention right now.
Not on how Isabella felt under me.
Not on the way she looked at me when she whispered my name.
Not on how I almost—almost—told her to stay.
Enough.
I exhale sharply, standing from the bed and rolling my shoulders back. I’ve already wasted too much time thinking about her. She’s gone now. She’s back at her apartment, far from this mess, far from the bloodshed that’s about to come.
And then—
A knock at the door.
No. Not a knock. A frantic pounding, the kind that immediately sends a shot of adrenaline through my veins.
"Boss!"
I cross the room in three strides and yank the door open, barely giving him time to step back. Nico’s breathing hard, his expression grim.
"They found Jayden."
For a second, the words don’t register.
And then—
"Where?" My voice is sharp, edged with strain.
"Abandoned warehouse on the south docks. He’s alive, but barely."
The world narrows.
I don’t think. I move.
I grab my jacket from the chair, my gun from the desk, and storm down the hall without another word. My pulse is a steady, pounding rhythm against my skull.
If they got to Jayden, what else are they capable of?
The thought makes my blood run cold.
I push through the front doors of the estate, the night air slapping against my skin, sharp and crisp. The sky is a murky shade of gray, the promise of rain hanging thick in the air. My boots hit the pavement hard as I stalk toward the waiting black SUV.
Derik, my driver, straightens at the sight of me, already reaching to open the back door.
"Derik," I bark as I climb in, barely waiting for him to shut the door before I continue, "Did she get home safely?"
He nods, shifting into gear as the car pulls away from the estate. "Yes, sir. I dropped her off myself. She went inside without any trouble."
I exhale, some of the strain in my chest easing. Good.
Derik glances at me through the rearview mirror, his expression hesitant. "You sure that was the right call, boss? Sending her away like that?"
I don’t answer immediately.
Because I don’t fucking know.
"She’s not part of this," I say finally, my voice low.
Derik doesn’t push, but I see the doubt in his eyes.
Neither of us speak for the rest of the drive.
I stare out the window as the city blurs past, my mind running through every possibility, every threat, every fucking scenario that could have led to Jayden being found in a warehouse.
Someone set him up. Someone on the inside. And whoever it is, I’m going to find them. And when I do? I’m going to make them bleed.
The warehouse looms in the distance, a skeletal structure against the darkened skyline. Its rusted metal walls are streaked with grime, the broken windows like hollow eyes staring into nothing. The air is thick with the stench of rot and salt, the docks only a few blocks away, carrying the heavy scent of damp wood and dead fish. But there’s something worse beneath it all.
The unmistakable copper tang of blood.
I don’t wait for the car to fully stop before I shove the door open, my boots hitting the cracked concrete with force. The ground is uneven, patches of oil-stained gravel crunching beneath my steps as I storm toward the warehouse entrance.
Two of my men stand guard at the door, their faces grim, shoulders stiff. One of them—Miguel—nods in greeting, but his eyes won’t meet mine.
That’s how I know this is bad.
Really fucking bad.
I push through the entrance, and the second I step inside, the air shifts. It’s colder here, thick with dust and death. The metallic scent of dried blood clings to the air, mixing with the dampness of the abandoned space. Dim overhead bulbs glimmer, casting long, eerie shadows along the walls.
And then I see him.
Jayden.
My stomach drops.
He’s slumped against a rusted metal chair, his arms hanging limply at his sides, head bowed forward like a broken marionette. Blood stains his shirt, deep crimson soaking through the fabric, pooling on the floor beneath him in thick, dried streaks. His face is almost unrecognizable—swollen, bruised, a jagged cut along his cheekbone still oozing.
But his chest is moving. Barely.
A strangled breath. A weak, gasping wheeze.
And beside him—
Charles.
He’s crouched low, pressing a bloodied cloth to Jayden’s side, his suit jacket tossed aside, sleeves rolled up. His eyes snap up when he sees me, and for the first time in a long time, I see something in Charles’s face that unsettles me.
Helplessness.
"Boss," he exhales, voice tight.
But I don’t respond. I don’t think.
I move.
My knees hit the blood-slicked floor as I drop beside Jayden, ignoring the sickening squelch of it soaking into my pants. I don’t care. My hands reach for him automatically, pressing against his face, tilting his head up so I can see his eyes.
"Jayden," I murmur, my voice sharp, demanding. "Look at me."
For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the sound of his ragged breathing, the uneven rise and fall of his chest.
And then—
His eyes crack open, dull and unfocused, but they land on me.
And he cries.
Not the silent kind. Not the kind I’ve seen from men who know they’re about to die.
This is different. This is grief. This is regret.
"Boss…" His voice is shredded, barely a whisper.
I grip his shoulder, tightening my hold like I can somehow anchor him to this world. "Who did this to you?"
A shudder wracks his broken body, his fingers twitching against the bloodied cloth. His lips part, but only a strangled sob escapes.
Charles shifts beside me. "He’s been like this since I got here. He’s been trying to tell me something, but—"
Jayden gasps, his entire body seizing as another wave of pain rips through him. His head lolls back, exposing his throat, his pulse weak and thready.
"Jayden," I snap, shaking him slightly. "Who did this?"
His breath hitches.
And then, in a whisper so soft I almost don’t catch it—
"They… threatened my family…"
I inhale sharply.
His family.
He has two kids. A wife. A mother who still calls him mi hijo every time he picks up the damn phone.
He sobs again, his fingers digging into my sleeve, desperate. "I—I didn’t think they’d actually—fuck, I didn’t think—"
Charles curses under his breath, his hands moving frantically to keep pressure on Jayden’s side, but there’s too much blood. Too much damage.
I squeeze Jayden’s shoulder harder. "Who?"
His lips tremble. His breath stutters. He tries.
I see him try.
His mouth forms the beginning of a name, his voice barely more than a whisper—
And then he goes still.
His chest—
His chest isn’t moving.
My mind doesn’t register it at first.
I shake him. "Jayden."
Nothing.
I shake him again. "Jayden, goddammit—"
Charles curses. "Boss—"
I roar.
I shove my hands against Jayden’s chest, pressing down, ignoring the fact that I can feel his ribs shifting beneath my palms. "Don’t you fucking die on me, do you hear me?"
Blood.
Too much blood.
His body is limp in my grip, his head rolling slightly to the side, mouth parted.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
I press harder. Again. Again.
Until Charles grabs my wrists, his voice breaking—
"Dominic. He’s gone."
His words hits me like a punch to the gut.
Gone.
The word doesn’t fucking compute.
Jayden.
The kid who used to sneak cigarettes behind the club when he was barely old enough to drive. The same idiot who would crack the dumbest jokes during stakeouts, just to make me laugh. The one who swore he’d get out of this life one day, swore he’d make it home to his wife every night.
And now he’s—
I inhale sharply, my hands still gripping his bloodied shirt, my fingers curled into fists.
Charles doesn’t say anything.
Derik, who stands at the entrance, doesn’t either.
No one does.
Because they know.
They fucking know.
Someone inside my own gang did this.
Someone betrayed us.
Someone threatened Jayden’s family and made him suffer for it.
And I will find out who.
I release Jayden’s shirt, my fingers soaked in his blood, and exhale shakily. I don’t wipe my hands. Don’t move.
I just sit there, breathing through the storm rising inside me.
Then—
I stand.
Slowly.
But before I can even process the next thought, my vision narrows, a target forming in front of me.
Charles.
He stands there, unnervingly quiet, his shirt speckled with Jayden’s blood. There’s something in his face I don’t like.
My fists clench.
And then I snap.
I lunge.
The first punch lands hard, a solid crack against his jaw. Charles stumbles back a step, but his reaction is immediate.
He snarls.
Then he swings.
His fist collides with my ribs, the force knocking the air from my lungs, but I don’t stop.
I don’t fucking stop.
We crash into each other, raw and brutal, exchanging blows that land with sickening force. My knuckles split against his cheekbone, and he lands a jab to my ribs that makes pain bloom through my side.
"Where the fuck have you been?" I growl, grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him back against the rusted wall. The metal groans under the impact.
His head snaps back, but before I can press forward, he grips my collar and slams me against the opposite wall.
"Are you behind this?" I snarl, my voice breaking with fury. "Did you fucking set him up?"
Charles’s eyes flare with passion and fury, and in the next second, he punches me.
"What the fuck?!" he barks, his breath ragged.
I recover fast, my lip split, blood dripping down my chin. But I don’t care. I shove him off me, both of us breathless, our chests heaving.
Charles spits blood onto the ground before glaring at me. "You really think I’d betray you?" His voice is laced with resentment. He’s hurt. "Me?"
I flex my fingers, the pain from the fight dull compared to the rage still burning through me.
"You disappeared." My voice is rough, raw. "You fucking disappeared when Jayden was being tortured to death."
His expression hardens. "I was handling shit you don’t know about."
"Then tell me."
Charles exhales sharply, wiping blood from his lip. "I was in the city. At the house."
I frown. "Why?"
He wipes his face with the back of his hand, then looks at me. Really looks at me.
"You know the DeLuca ring?"
My stomach tightens.
Of course I fucking know. The DeLuca ring—an heirloom, a symbol of our alliance. The one that was stolen.
By Demitri.
The realization hits like a bullet, sharp and hard.
Charles nods, seeing the shift in my expression. "Yeah. That. The DeLucas got wind of it, and I had to keep things from boiling over. I was making sure they didn’t assume you were trying to break the alliance."
I narrow my eyes. "You should have told me." My voice is low, edged with exhaustion and anger.
Charles exhales sharply, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Before he can answer, something else clicks in my mind. My jaw clenches, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.
"The ring was returned," I snap. "Or did you forget?" My tone is sharper than I intend.
By Isabella.
Even the thought of her name sends a fresh ache through my chest, like a dull knife pressing deeper into a wound I refuse to acknowledge.
She returned the ring herself. She made sure that problem was dealt with. And yet, it still wasn’t enough. It never is with the DeLucas.
Charles sighs, his shoulders tense. "Yeah, Dom. I know. But you also know them." He looks at me pointedly. "It doesn’t take much to set them off. That ring was stolen in the first place —that’s enough for them to start questioning shit. Even if it’s back in your possession, they’re watching."
I rub a hand over my face, feeling the grime and dried blood clinging to my skin. "So, you were making sure they didn’t assume I was trying to get out of the alliance."
Charles nods. "And that’s not all I was there for."
"What do you mean?"
Charles steps closer, lowering his voice.
"I hired a PI. Someone I trust. I needed someone outside our circle to do the digging. And it didn’t take much for the guy to find the bastard who's been going behind our backs this whole time."
My pulse spikes.
Every muscle in my body coils tight, my mind already racing, already preparing.
"Who?" My voice is deadly quiet, razor-sharp.
Charles watches me carefully, his next words laced with finality.
"He hasn’t been careful, Dom. It wasn’t even hard for the PI to catch him. He got cocky."
I already know what’s coming.
I just don’t want to believe it.
Charles doesn’t look away. Doesn’t stall.
"Nico."
The name lands like a punch to the gut.
I stare at Charles, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Say that again."
His jaw ticks. "Nico’s the mole. He’s the one feeding information. He’s the reason Jayden’s dead."
In that instant, my world tilts.
I shake my head. "That’s impossible. He’s a kid."
"Is it?" Charles steps closer, his voice razor-sharp. "Think about it, Dominic. Who’s been closest to Jayden? Who knew what routes we were running? Who suddenly became more valuable in our inner circle after Jayden and I started pulling back?"
My mind spins, piecing things together, but I don’t want to believe it.
Nico.
He’s been with me for years. Trusted. Loyal.
But Jayden said it was someone inside.
And now Jayden’s dead before he could finish the name.
A fucking coincidence?
No.
A tremor laces through me.
I turn to Charles, my voice deadly quiet.
"Where is he now?"
Charles exhales, shaking his head. "I don’t know. But I’ll find out."
I nod once, slow and controlled.
Then I straighten, pushing past the agony in my ribs, ignoring the lingering pain from the fight, from the loss, from the betrayal seeping into my veins like poison.
I wipe the blood from my chin.
Then I meet Charles’s gaze and say the only thing that matters.
"Find him but don’t kill him just yet. I’ll put a bullet between his eyes myself.” I turn to leave.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“If they can get to Jayden, what makes you think they can’t get to Isabella?”