Chapter Forty-Two
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
DOMINIC
It takes about five and a half hours to drive from Phoenix to Los Angeles. After hearing Angel’s message, I make it in four. I weave my Harley in and out of traffic like I’m threading a fucking needle, the whole time choking the life out of the handlebars and wishing they were Rosten’s neck.
I warned him.
Now, I’m going to kill him.
I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life behind bars, or if I fry in the chair. I’ll go to either with a clear conscience and not one damn regret.
That’s not true.
I’ll always regret leaving her alone. For wallowing in my own grief and putting three hundred and seventy-two miles between us. For letting my biggest fear become reality. For giving Rosten the chance to take the only thing left in this world I care about.
No. That I love .
Once I’m through the gate, I barely make it into the garage before everything becomes a blur, and I’m standing outside the elevator, jabbing the call button over and over until it finally arrives.
Then I pace the four walls like a caged animal, my teeth bared and my predator instinct hungry for the kill. I think of all the ways I can make him suffer. I want to remember his screams. I want them burned into my soul.
As soon as the doors open, I’m on the hunt. “Angel?” I yell, because I don’t give a fuck anymore. Let them ask. I’m going to prison anyway. “Where are you?”
Hilda slides in front of me out of thin air, and I growl, circling around her. “Get out of my way.”
“She’s in the kitchen,” she calls after me, and I pause, glancing over my shoulder. The moment our eyes lock, she nods. “She won’t let anyone near her. We tried, but it’s only you who could ever save her.”
Gritting my teeth, I head toward the kitchen when she calls out again.
“Dominic.” I pause mid-step, my fists clenched by my side. “The mind can be a prison,” she says quietly. “Sometimes the only escape is to surrender freedom.”
I don’t stop to analyze what that’s supposed to mean. I have a singular focus and that’s all that matters as I continue toward the kitchen.
“Angel, I…” I freeze the minute I see her. I want to hold her in my arms and shield her against the world. But I can’t. The world has already eaten her alive and spit her out. All I can do is stand there and breathe through the black fury burning in my veins.
She’s sitting on the floor, slumped against the counter like a broken doll. Although she’s in a beautiful red dress, what’s behind it is damaged. There’s no spark in her eyes. No life.
I approach her slowly, afraid to speak and afraid not to. When I call her name again and she doesn’t respond, I do the only thing I can think of. I bend down and scoop her into my arms. Angel’s head lolls against my chest, her arms hanging listlessly by her side as I carry her out of the kitchen.
Lars hands me the keys to one of the cars in the garage because I’m done with servants and mansions and pretending to be people we aren’t.
It’s over.
It’s all fucking over.
Halfway to Cedars-Sinai, it dawns on me I’m driving Alexandra Romanov to the hospital. It’s not like I can just walk her into the emergency room. So, thankfully, in one call, Angel and I are immediately taken through a secluded hallway, up an empty elevator, and into a private room without question.
It isn’t until I place Angel onto the bed that life returns to her eyes, and she claws at my arms. “Don’t,” she rasps, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me! Please!”
“I won’t,” I promise, kissing her forehead. “I’ll never leave you again.” The words calm her down, and she gives a weak nod, settling back onto the pillow. It kills me when I notice the death grip she still has on my arm.
She believes me, but she still doesn’t trust me.
The doctor comes in and as Angel gives a replay of what happened in Rosten’s office, seething hatred like I’ve never known radiates through me. Old wounds rip open, digging new ones, and destroying every ounce of humanity left inside me.
“I think he drugged me,” she finishes quietly, staring at her hands. They’re scratched, and my rage deepens imagining her small fists trying to fight him off.
The doctor looks up from his clipboard. “And why do you think that, Miss Romanov?”
“I don’t actually remember when he…” Her breath hitches. “When he raped me. I felt dizzy and really confused. There were black spots everywhere, and I kept screaming no, but my mouth felt like it was full of rocks.”
“Did Mr. Rosten give you anything to drink?”
Angel shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Everything’s so fuzzy.”
After scribbling a few more notes, he pats her arm. “It’s fine, Miss Romanov. We’ll do a rape kit as well as take a blood sample. That should tell us all we need to know.”
Four agonizing hours later, Angel is back in her room, tear-stained and drained. It’s the first time I’ve breathed since they took her away. A painful river of silence runs between us as we wait for the doctor to come back. There’s so much I want to say, so much truth I want to tell, but after the violence she’s suffered, I can’t be the one who drags her into more darkness.
It’s not cowardice—it’s sacrifice. Things aren’t always as they seem. Sometimes you have to look behind the smile to see the fangs. And sometimes a lie can be the greatest act of love.
“Dominic…” My name stalls on her lips, so I take her hand. She squeezes it, her eyes pooling with tears. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
I can’t think about this right now. I’ve made as much peace with my mother’s death as I can. Twisting my anger over that with my anger over what happened to Angel is a dangerous cocktail. “Rook, don’t…”
“No,” she argues, swiping a hand at the tears scattered along her long dark lashes. “You needed me, and I shut you out. I didn’t answer your calls. I didn’t answer anyone’s calls until…” Her head snaps up, as if a record skipped in her head. “Oh my God, I almost forgot.”
Shit. I’m out of my chair before she can say another word. “Do I need to call the doctor back in? I’ll go get him right now.”
“No,” she says, tugging me back into my seat. “It’s nothing like that. I forgot to tell you I have something that belongs to you. I haven’t opened it yet. I thought you should—”
“Am I interrupting something?” We both turn to find a familiar face leaning against the doorway in his three-piece suit and his stupid haircut.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan, throwing my head back. “Can you get off my dick for one day, Rubio?”
His gaze settles on me, that arrogant smirk smeared on his face. “Always a pleasure, McCallum. Fortunately, I’m not here to see you.” He turns his attention toward Angel. “I’m here to speak to Miss Romanov.”
Angel blinks. “Me?”
“Why?” I demand.
“Standard procedure,” he says, strolling into the room without an invitation. “With high-profile situations, there’s always a protocol. Since this is my case, I’m the one they called to investigate Miss Romanov’s alleged claim against Greg Rosten.”
Angel stiffens. “It’s not alleged.”
“Innocent until proven guilty, ma’am. It’s in the Constitution.”
“So is free speech,” I growl because I’m done dicking around with this guy. Leaping from my chair, I rush forward until we’re nose to nose. “How about we step outside so I can exercise my rights.”
“Miss Romanov?” This time, all three of us turn to see the doctor hovering just inside the doorway, a solemn expression worrying his face. “May I speak with you privately?”
“Hell no.” Forgetting about Rubio, I push past him, my anger finding a new outlet. “You’re not kicking me out this time.” The doctor glances toward Angel, which pisses me off because I don’t like being questioned. But, apparently, she nods because he nods back. I wait for whatever the hell is so important, but then his gaze slides toward Rubio.
This time Angel speaks up. “He can stay, too. Then he can see how alleged this is.”
The doctor sighs. “Miss Romanov, the rape kit was negative.”
The room goes completely silent because like everyone else, I know I didn’t just hear what I think I heard. “What does that mean?”
Rubio clears his throat. “It means alleged just turned into false.”
Angel recoils as if he slapped her. “What? No that’s impossible.”
The doctor gives her a cold look, and that’s when I see it. The distance he’s keeping. The clipped words and monotone voice. He thinks she’s lying.
“I’m afraid the detective is right, Miss Romanov. There’s no evidence of trauma, no evidence of penetration, nothing to remotely suggest sexual activity of any nature. Not only that, the tox screen came back negative. You weren’t drugged.”
“No!” Angel screams. “Do it again. You did it wrong!”
I hold his stare. “There has to be some mistake.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s not. The tests are accurate. Even if the alleged assailant wore a condom, there would still be internal abrasions.”
“But my hands, my throat. I have bruises!” Shoving her arms forward, she twists them in the air. I can feel her panic. “And I can’t remember!”
The doctor shrugs, and I have to curl my fists by my side to stop myself from choking him with his own stethoscope. “Sometimes our minds play tricks on us. There might have been assault, Miss Romanov, but it wasn’t sexual.”
The doctor says a few more words neither of us hear and then leaves. I don’t give a shit about him. My focus is too centered on Angel as her eyes widen, the hell of the last few hours drawing her into a vortex of hopeless despair. Her chest rises and falls at an uneven pace. There’s a confusion splitting her beautiful face, imprisoning half in this world while the other half drifts away to a distant reality. One I’ve fought like hell to keep her from seeing.
“It was. It was. It was.” She keeps repeating those two words in a hushed cadence.
I’m guilty. I’ll burn in hell for the things I’ve done, but I won’t be alone.
And I won’t go first.
I kiss Angel’s cheek, but I don’t even think she notices. Which is probably for the best. I don’t think I could leave hearing her scream for me, knowing I may never come back.
Halfway across the room, I stop in front of Rubio. “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. But this isn’t about us,” I tell him, steel lacing my tone. “I’m asking as a man trying to protect a woman. Will you stay with her?” Gritting my teeth, I add, “ Please ?”
He narrows his eyes. “Where are you going?”
I’m already out the door by the time I answer, “To stop a clock.”