Chapter 29 #2
Dominic exchanges a long, silent look with Keane, the unspoken language of years of business passing between them in a split second. Without a word of protest, he rises from his chair.
He steps over to my side, leans down, and presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "I'll see you later. I'll come pick you up right on time for the hangout with your sister and her husband."
"Okay," I murmur, watching him grab his jacket.
I watch him go, feeling a little dejected that our quiet morning lounging in the garden just evaporated into thin air.
Helena clears away the empty coffee cups, giving me a warm, sympathetic smile as the heavy front doors click shut in the distance.
"Don't look too dejected, Rosalia," she says gently, nodding toward the floor where a small fluffy head pops up. "Yapper and I will keep you company."
I laugh, reaching down to scoop Yapper into my lap as he wags his tail furiously. "You're the best, Helena."
Hours later, the bright morning sun has shifted into the high afternoon. I’m sitting out in the garden with Helena, sipping iced tea while Yapper chases butterflies through the manicured lawn, when my phone buzzes on the outdoor table.
It’s a text from Dominic. Short, curt, and straight to the point.
Something urgent came up. Won't be able to make it to Camilla's. A full security detail will drive you there and bring you back safely. Text me when you arrive.
A cold rush of disappointment bursts in my chest, instantly ruining my light mood. I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keypad. Urgent business. Always urgent business. He didn't even call.
I take a deep breath, forcing a smile for Helena's sake. I refuse to let this ruin my day completely. I'm going to see my sister, and I am going to stay jolly.
Half an hour later, I leave for Camilla’s estate, escorted by an absurdly heavy team of armed guards in two black SUVs.
The lingering annoyance fades the moment Camilla opens her front door and pulls me into a tight, warm hug.
Whatever dark mood Dominic left behind dissolves as the afternoon unfolds.
I end up having a wonderful time with her and Maksim.
Seeing them together is an absolute joy—Maksim is very sweet, utterly attentive, and so madly in love with my sister it's almost overwhelming to watch.
It brings a soft warmth to my chest, giving me a glimpse of what a peaceful, unified life could actually look like for our family.
We talk, laugh, and eat, the hours slipping away far too quickly. I stay straight through dinner, only finally gathering my coat thirty minutes after the last plate is cleared.
Throughout the entire evening, my phone remains completely dry. Dominic hasn't reached out once. I even sent him a simple text earlier asking if everything was alright, and he didn't even bother to respond.
By the time I say my goodbyes to Camilla and Maksim and step back out into the cool night air, the disappointment from earlier has morphed into a simmering anger.
I slide into the back seat of the armored SUV, surrounded by Dominic's silent, stone-faced guards, and stare out the window as we pull away from the house, heading back toward home.
The silence inside the vehicle is deafening, punctuated only by the hum of the engine as we navigate the dimly lit stretch of highway. I press my forehead against the cool glass, my chest tight with a mixture of hurt and frustration. He couldn't even send a single text.
Halfway into our journey home, the lead escort SUV suddenly flashes its brake lights. Ahead of us, red and blue strobe lights pierce the dark, blocking the two-lane road.
"Check point?" the driver grunts, his hand instantly shifting down toward his sidearm. "We weren't notified of any local police presence on this route tonight."
"Stay sharp," the guard in the passenger seat orders, unclipping his holster.
The SUV comes to a smooth halt. Two officers in full tactical gear step out from behind the flashing lights, approaching the driver's side window with high-powered flashlights blaring.
Everything happens in a violent, blinding fraction of a second.
The officer at the window doesn't ask for identification. He raises a suppressed automatic pistol and fires three quick rounds through the glass. The driver violently jerks back, blood spraying across the dashboard.
"Ambush! Get her down!" the front guard shouts, reaching for his weapon, but the passenger-side window shatters instantly under a hail of gunfire.
I scream, ducking into the footwell as the heavy metallic thud of bullets slams against the armored frame of the SUV. Outside, chaos erupts.
The sharp, rapid pops of muffled gunshots echo through the night, followed by the sickening sounds of bodies hitting the pavement. My heart hammers violently against my ribs, choking the air right out of my lungs.
Within ninety seconds, the gunfire stops entirely.
The silence returns, suffocating and terrifying.
The rear passenger door is ripped open with a brutal metallic screech. The cool night air rushes in, carrying the sharp, iron stench of blood. Hands grab my coat, dragging me ruthlessly out of the footwell and shoving me hard onto the cold, damp asphalt.
I scramble back, my hands scraping against the ground, only to freeze dead in my tracks.
Dominic's guards—every single one of them—are lying motionless in pools of blood. The men standing over them aren't police officers at all. Their tactical vests are unbranded, their faces covered in dark balaclavas. And none of them are looking at me like a target to be eliminated.
A pair of polished leather shoes steps into my line of sight, stepping right over the body of my lead escort.
"Hello, Rosalia."
The cold, cruel voice makes my stomach drop into a bottomless pit.
Dante.
He steps out of the shadows, looking immaculate, a twisted, victorious sneer carved onto his face. Before I can scramble away, he lurches forward, grabbing me by the hair and yanks my head back violently. I gasp in pain as he hauls me up against his chest, locking an arm around my shoulders.
The cold, razor-sharp edge of a blade presses instantly into the sensitive skin right under my jaw line.
"Don't move a single fucking muscle," Dante hisses directly into my ear, his hot breath foul against my neck.
I stiffen, my hands clutching blindly at his forearm, trying to keep my neck away from the steel. "Dante..."
"Shut up!" he snarls, pressing the sharp tip just hard enough to draw a thin trickle of heat down my skin. "You think you're clever, don't you? Sitting in that estate with Kane, playing house, thinking you can hide behind his security while you steal what belongs to my family?"
"I didn't steal anything—"
"You're going to stand up at that legal arbitration on Monday," Dante cuts in, his voice now a deadly, low whisper that sends a shudder straight down my spine.
"You are going to declare every single account, every clearance code, and every single document to be DeLorenzo property.
You will hand over total control, and you will walk away. "
He presses the blade deeper, forcing me to tilt my chin back toward the stars.
"Because if you drop a single word about what happened tonight, or if you refuse to give me back what's mine during that meeting...
" Dante presses his mouth right against my ear, his tone dripping with poisonous malice.
"...I promise you, Rosalia, I will make sure Dominic Kane does not see another day.
I will tear his life apart piece by piece, and I will make you watch him die. "