Chapter 3
Dominic
Dominic sat behind the desk in his home office, a stack of reports open in front of him. It was quiet enough that he could hear the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the other room.
It was well past midnight, but there were still details that required his attention. He read a line on the page, then read it again. The numbers made sense. The routes were correct. There was nothing wrong with the report. And yet he hadn’t absorbed a single word.
That, more than anything, irritated him. His mind had always been one of his most reliable assets. If something held his attention, it was because he had decided it deserved to. Distraction wasn’t tolerated, much less something that happened without his consent.
Tonight, however, that control had slipped. Not enough to disrupt him in any visible way, but enough to register as a flaw.
The alley lingered in his mind. More specifically—the boy in the alley.
He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. His fingers tapped against the armrest before going still again, the small movement the only outward sign of his irritation.
He didn’t like it when his thoughts fixated on what should have already been dismissed. The situation had been handled. The trigger had been pulled, and his men had taken care of the aftermath with their usual efficiency. It should have ended there.
It hadn’t.
The boy’s face returned to him with a persistence he found increasingly unacceptable.
Knox had stepped out of the shadows when instructed.
That, in itself, wasn’t remarkable. Fear made people obedient; it stripped them down to instinct and reduced them to whatever was necessary to survive the next moment.
What had followed, however, was not typical. The boy hadn’t folded the way most people did. No collapsing, no rambling apologies, no piss running down his leg. Not even a desperate attempt to explain himself out of a situation that offered no negotiation.
He had simply stood there. Just a young man holding himself upright when every instinct should have dropped him to his knees.
The memory crystallized with a disturbing clarity.
The boy was tall, but not enough to match Dominic.
Dark curls, a little too long, fell into his face like they hadn’t been cut in a while.
The features beneath them were striking.
Dominic’s gaze had lingered on his face longer than it should have: a straight nose, clean lines, a mouth too well-defined to go unnoticed.
It was the kind of face that drew attention, almost too pretty for a man.
The rest of him told a different story. His build was lean and wiry, probably the result of long hours spent on his feet.
The cheap gas-station jacket had seen better days, and his work boots were scuffed and worn thin with use.
None of that was unusual. It was exactly what Dominic would expect from someone passing through that part of the city at that hour.
But the eyes… Dominic kept returning to those.
Pale blue. Not soft or innocent, but eyes that tracked everything, even with fear sitting heavy in his throat.
They had been too knowing for someone that young.
A stubborn resilience lived in them—one that shouldn’t have survived watching a man get shot.
That was what unsettled him. He had seen grown men twice the boy’s age fall apart from much less than a close-range execution. Most people shook so hard they couldn’t stand, their bodies giving in to the panic without hesitation.
The boy had been afraid. Dominic had seen the pulse hammering at his throat, the tension in his jaw, the way his teeth dug into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. But he hadn’t been undone by it. There was something else beneath it: a notable strength Dominic hadn’t expected.
He lowered his gaze to his desk, his expression hardening as a single, unavoidable conclusion surfaced.
I should’ve killed him.
The logic was simple and, under normal circumstances, unquestionable. A witness to a murder didn’t walk away—not if he intended to maintain control over the world he’d built. Loose ends weren’t tolerated and risks were eliminated. That was how order was maintained.
Until tonight.
For reasons he hadn’t fully examined, he’d allowed an exception.
Dominic didn’t shy away from violence. He’d never pretended to be anything other than what he was. When someone betrayed him or overstepped a boundary that had been clearly defined, he handled it without hesitation.
There was clarity in that kind of action.
He relished in the brutal finality of it.
Business meetings bored him. Public appearances required patience.
Even expansion deals, while useful, rarely intrigued him for long.
But the rush of power that came with making that final call?
That was different. In those moments, he felt more alive than at any boardroom table or club opening.
There was a difference, though, between necessary violence and pointless waste. The man he’d shot in the alley had earned his death. Selling scraps of intel for a quick payout was a form of betrayal Dominic didn’t tolerate.
Killing the boy would’ve been something else entirely.
He would’ve done it without hesitation or remorse, but it wouldn’t have been the same kind of decision.
But tonight, for reasons he didn’t understand, he’d broken one of his own rules.
And for what? A boy with interesting eyes and dark curls, who looked like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in years?
He pushed the report aside; the numbers were irrelevant now. Instead, he turned his chair, his gaze shifting past the desk and toward the city beyond the window. The lights blinked against the dark, marking a territory he owned in ways most people would never comprehend.
Somewhere out there, Knox was likely still awake, replaying what he’d seen, his body slow to come down from the shock of it.
Dominic considered that, his thumb brushing absently along the edge of his lower lip. Most people’s fear diminished them. It reduced them to something predictable. The boy’s had not. It had made him… fascinating. Dominic didn’t like that word. It implied attention he hadn’t chosen to give.
“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured, the words barely louder than a breath.
There would have to be an answer. Letting him walk had created a situation that demanded follow-up. You didn’t set a piece on the board and then ignore where it moved.
Knox owed him now. That alone ensured they would meet again. Debts weren’t theoretical in Dominic’s world. They were tangible, and always collected.
When he saw the boy again, he would decide what he was: a liability, or an asset worth keeping.
* * *
Dominic woke the way he always did: fully and abruptly, his mind snapping to awareness the moment consciousness returned.
Only today, he woke up already annoyed. He sat up and dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. He didn’t get many bad nights, but last night had dug its claws in.
The second he opened his eyes, the same thought slammed right back into place.
I should’ve killed the boy.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, already moving before the thought could settle any further. He pulled clean clothes from the dresser without wasting time. He never had patience for slow mornings, especially when unfinished business was clawing at him from the inside out.
Once dressed, he stepped out into the main space of his luxurious loft, crossing the room with purposeful strides, not bothering to look around. The place was exactly the way he’d left it: immaculate, ordered, and untouched by anything that didn’t belong.
He moved straight to the kitchen, switching on the coffee machine before leaning back against the counter.
The caffeine itself was irrelevant. What he needed was something to anchor his attention.
Cup in hand, he moved toward the far end of the loft, where the windows spanned an entire wall.
He took a slow sip, but it did little to settle his thoughts.
A soft hum carried through the loft—the elevator rising from the lower floors. Dominic didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. Only two people had unrestricted access to his private floor, and only one of them made a habit of showing up unannounced. His cousin and second-in-command: Cassian.
The entire building—once a massive warehouse near the port—had been stripped down and rebuilt to his specification. The top floor belonged to him alone, converted into the spacious, loft-style penthouse he now stood in.
Beneath it, the third floor was reserved for the few people he trusted enough to keep close. His cousin occupied one apartment, another lieutenant the second, while the third remained empty for whenever Dominic had use for it.
Below that, the operations floor held everything required to run his business: meeting rooms, offices, storage, and the fully equipped gym he and his men used to keep themselves in shape.
The ground level functioned as a garage, loading bay, and surveillance hub. No outsider ever made it past that first set of doors.
Below even that, the basement sat sealed off and reinforced. It was home to the interrogation rooms and holding cells, reserved for whatever business was better handled out of sight.
“You’re up early,” Cassian said as he stepped out of the elevator and into the living area. His expression was alert despite the early hour. The clear family resemblance was impossible to miss; the biggest difference was the easy grin his cousin usually wore, dimples and all.
“I always am,” Dominic replied, setting the cup aside. “And I have something to deal with.”
Cassian frowned. “Problem?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“The kind I should’ve handled last night.”
Cassian studied him a second longer, reading between the lines, then gave a small nod. “Do you need backup?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stubborn as always. “I’m coming.”
Dominic didn’t argue. Cassian tagged along more often than not, and today, he didn’t mind the company. He grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator, Cassian falling in step beside him. “Where are we going?” he asked.
Dominic’s gaze remained fixed on the doors as they slid shut. “To deal with my mistake.”
The elevator descended in silence, except for the soft mechanical hum and the faint click of cables sliding into place. He stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his attention already shifting ahead.
After a moment, Cassian spoke. “You want to tell me what kind of mistake we’re talking about?”
“I spared someone I shouldn’t have.”
Cassian’s brow creased. “That’s not like you.”
“I’m aware.”
The elevator slowed as it approached the garage level. “A witness?” Cassian asked.
“Yes.”
Cassian let out a low whistle. “That’s not a mistake. That’s a liability.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “You think I don’t know that?”
Cassian raised his hands. “Just saying, you don’t usually leave loose ends. So why is he still breathing?”
The doors slid open and Dominic stepped out, the echo of his shoes loud against the concrete. The garage was wide and spotless, rows of vehicles parked with military precision beneath bright overhead lights.
“Because killing him felt… wrong,” Dominic said, heading toward the black SUV parked at the far end.
Cassian blinked, then gave an incredulous laugh. “That’s new.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Dominic said as he unlocked the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine turned over smoothly and moments later they were pulling into morning traffic.
Cassian leaned back in his seat, glancing out the window before looking over. “So what’s the plan? You scare him straight? Make him disappear? Recruit him?”
Dominic’s hands settled firmly on the wheel. “I haven’t decided.”
Cassian gave him a look. “You brought me along without a plan?”
“You decided to tag along. I allowed it because you may be useful.”
Cassian tilted his head, amused. “You trust my instincts with this?”
“I trust that you’ll tell me if I’m being stupid.”
Cassian grinned. “Fair enough.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence. As they moved deeper into the city, the surroundings changed. Streets narrowed, buildings aged, and the signs of neglect became more apparent. Dominic recognized the neighborhood immediately.
He slowed the car and pulled over a block away from Knox’s apartment complex. He killed the engine but didn’t get out right away. His gaze settled on the building through the windshield—old brick, iron railings rusted thin, and windows patched and uneven.
He took it all in without effort. There were three floors, one entrance, and a fire escape on the side. Lights glowed in only a handful of windows. He spotted the sightlines, the potential vantage points, the time it would take to enter and leave if necessary. Every detail settled into place.
Then, without hesitation, he opened the door and stepped out.