Chapter 26 #3
“Ms. Evans, on the eighth of August, between nine PM and midnight, you were actually alone with Mr. Zayas at Sunset Peak Lookout. Correct?”
It is true. But I can’t say it.
Dominic’s eyebrows twitch. His eyes haven’t left me for a second since the moment I stepped into this courtroom.
I watched the hope drain from them just a few minutes ago.
And I see it now — he already knows what my answer will be.
Why isn’t he looking at me with hate? I can’t stand the grief and defeat in his eyes.
“No,” I say softly, leaning closer to the microphone in front of me. “That’s not true. We were alone until around ten PM. A man came and bought cocaine from him. He left a few minutes later.”
I’m sorry, Dominic. I wish I could see you smile one more time.
…
Fuck! I didn’t need that memory. Not now.
It’s only been a week since we came face to face again, and he’s already creating cracks.
A knock at the door jolts me. I shove the notes under my pillow in a rush.
The moment I open the door, an infuriating biker pushes past me, arms full of books. He dumps them all on my bed with a grunt, then spins around to face me.
I raise a brow.
“What the hell is all this?” I ask, gesturing to the books now taking over my bed.
His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
“You were full of shit,” he growls, voice full of accusation.
Then he jabs a finger at the books. “These are all books with third tries.” He sucks in a breath, almost looking betrayed.
“You said there were none. What was it you said?” He tilts his head like he’s thinking.
“‘Not even fiction can stretch that far.’”
I lift my chin. “How do you know they’re third chance?”
“Because I do my research, adorable,” he murmurs, stepping toward me. I sidestep.
“I haven’t slept in three fucking days reading this pile.” He takes another step, voice lowering. “And like I said — you were full of shit.”
I glance at the pile. “You read all these in three days?” I hate how impressed I sound.
He straightens, glaring at me. “Stop avoiding the subject.”
I glare right back at him, crack my neck, and move toward the books. Fuck him for fact checking me! I pick one up and look at the cover. Then I turn to Ghost and slap it against his chest.
“The hero rejects the heroine — his soulmate — in this one. For another fucking woman. Then he wounds the heroine to save that woman. And finally, after the heroine miraculously gives him another chance, he rejects her again. Publicly. Humiliating her and almost killing her.” I slap the book against his chest again.
Harder this time. “She shouldn't have taken him back. He didn’t deserve it.”
“He was blackmailed by his father,” he shoots back, voice hot with outrage.
I turn and pick up another book, anger rising.
“The hero in this one marks the heroine against her will. And then he fucks her in front of his men. And then he chains her to his bed. And as if that isn’t enough, he kills her entire family.” I’m almost yelling now.
“He’s an orc,” Ghost says, face serious.
“What?” I blink, confused.
He sighs deeply. “He’s an orc, adorable. You can’t judge him by human standards.”
“Ghost is right,” Domino’s voice makes me jump.
I spin toward the door and see him standing there, eating peanuts from a bowl, eyes curious.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, startled.
“Long enough to know Ghost is right. An orc is an orc. Of course he’ll follow his orc instincts.” He pops more peanuts into his mouth.
Ghost nods in agreement.
“Are you fucking eavesdropping?” I snap, already marching toward him.
He shrugs, totally unbothered. “You left the door open. I heard you when I was passing by. Got curious.”
I shove him out and slam the door in his face.
Then I turn on Ghost, eyes spitting fire.
I stomp back to the bed and pick up another book, trying to make him see reason.
“The asshat in this one uses the heroine as his fuck buddy when he knows she’s in love with him. And he goes to public events with other women, hurting her. Then, when she gets pregnant by accident, he threatens her. Scares her so badly she runs away.”
I pause. Breathe.
“And when he finds her, years later, he threatens to use his money and connections to take full custody of the kid if she doesn’t go back with him.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t have the ‘being an orc’ excuse. He deserved to die alone. That should’ve been his ending.”
“He was mafia,” Ghost says. “He had a territory war going on. He was trying to protect her from his enemies.”
“Oh?” I smirk. “So if you were at war with another MC, you’d do the same thing?”
His eyes darken. He takes a step. Leans forward. Close. Too close. I suck in a breath.
“Adorable,” he murmurs, voice dangerously low, “I’m the type that kills everyone.
I wouldn’t lose you because of some fuckers.
” He straightens. Licks his bottom lip, eyes still locked on me.
“Just so you know, I’ve already sent thirteen Verdugos to hell.
And that’s me pacing myself. But if I have to cut down all two hundred something of them to get to Sombra and your mother, then so be it.
They’ll pay for what they did to you. That’s a given. ”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. My heart beats faster. I’m almost hypnotized.
“And when I get you back, that’s it. I’m never letting you go again. No matter what.”
That snaps me back.
“WHEN you get me back?” I snap, rage boiling over. “Your crazy is showing again, Ghost.” I glare at him with everything I’ve got. “You’re never getting me back.”
“We’ll see,” he murmurs.
“No, we won’t!” I yell, throwing my arms in the air, desperation taking over. “Stop saying that.”
In my rage, I grab my pillow, toss it off the bed, and snatch the four notes I hid beneath it.
“And what the fuck is up with these things?” I demand, holding the pieces of paper in front of his face.
There’s a few seconds of silence where only my ragged breathing fills the room. I have a feeling I fucked up.
A barely-there smile lifts the corners of his lips.
“You kept them,” he whispers.
I definitely fucked up. I shouldn’t have shown him the notes. Shit.
I toss them back onto the bed and glare at him. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Answer the question, Ghost. Explain yourself. Why do you say the same words to me every morning, and then leave a note at the bookstore?”
He lifts his arm and gently brushes his knuckles over my cheek. His touch is warm. It feels like a happy memory from so long ago. Like an unspoken promise lost in time, finding its way back.
I almost lean into it. Almost.
“You said that all you hear now, when you look at me, are the words I spit at you that day. The lies,” he murmurs.
“So I’m trying to replace them with the truth.
With the real way I see you.” He smiles, and it’s a little sad.
“I whisper the truth to you every morning. And then I write it down so it doesn’t get lost. So you’ll always remember it. ”
He leans down, meeting my eyes.
“Don’t cry, adorable,” he says, wiping a tear from my cheek.
I didn’t even realize I was crying. I drop my forehead against his chest, trying to hide. Trying to run when there’s nowhere to run.
“Keep doing it,” I say, my voice shaky and quiet.
Maybe one day I’ll believe them. Maybe one day I’ll remember more of the good than the bad. Maybe one day it won’t hurt this much.
He wraps his arms around me, his chin resting on top of my head. I know I’ve lost today’s battle. But right now, I don’t feel like I want to win. Right now, I feel like I need to lose myself. Just for a moment.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow’s words,” he whispers, breath warming my hair. “You’re loved, adorable.”
I’m about to start full-on sobbing when I hear a tiny growl… then a hiss… and Ghost jolts slightly.
I blink away the tears and look down at his feet.
“Gary!” I gasp, scooping him into my arms. He just attacked Ghost’s ankle and left a small, bleeding scratch behind.
“You named him Gary?” Ghost asks, surprise lacing his voice.
I glare up at him, scratching Gary behind the ears. “Yes, I did. It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful kitty.”
I glance at his feet, then back up. “Why are you walking around barefoot?”
He smirks, but his eyes hold nothing but accusation. And a little amusement.
“Because someone put itching powder in all of my boots,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes. “I wonder who that was.”
I drop all emotion from my face.
“I have no idea. You should maybe look into that,” I say coolly. I pause. Roll my eyes. “Just vacuum inside the damn boots.”
He huffs and shakes his head. Before he can say anything, his phone starts ringing. He pulls it out, frowns at the screen, then looks back at me.
“I have to go,” he murmurs, and starts walking.
But he stops in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder.
“By the way, adorable,” he taunts, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Gary is a terrible name. You’re not naming any of our kids.”
“There won’t be any kids to name, jerk,” I shoot back, grab a book from the bed, and hurl it at him.
It hits square in the middle of the closed door. He’s already gone. And — somehow — I fucking miss his presence.
I look down at a squirming Gary and pout.
“Ria was right. I’m in trouble, little Gary,” I whisper. “I’m in so much trouble.”
Gary just looks at me like I’m an idiot. He might be onto something.