Chapter 4
~Dominic~
As awareness returns, I’m overwhelmed with the intensity of pain, currently coursing through my body, especially originating from my back and right shoulder. Fucking hell!
Memories surge through me, unbidden. Images replay in my mind—chains, the sting of the whip, the blade tearing into my flesh. The suffocating darkness of captivity. The taste of blood. The moment I nearly died.
And then the betrayal. My uncle. My father’s younger brother, Salvatore. One of my trusted capos. The snake who orchestrated my kidnapping and left me for dead.
I try to move my right arm and gasp with a sudden burst of pain.
This causes me to open my eyes suddenly.
Momentarily, I’m blinded by the light streaming through the window.
Blinking against the brightness, I try to clear my vision.
Where the hell am I? A noise from the right side of my bed causes my gaze to snap in that direction. My eyes clash with that of an angel.
I must’ve died. That’s the only explanation. Her long black hair is mussed and streaming down in a curtain around her shoulders. Hazel eyes stare widely at me in surprise. She is sitting in an armchair pulled up to the right side of the bed I find myself lying on.
“You’re awake! I was starting to worry,” my angel says in a voice that stirs in me a sense of rightness and belonging. As my eyes become more focused, I recognize this room as the infirmary in my safe house in Upstate New York.
Dante and my men really did reach me in time. It wasn’t just a fading dream before I blacked out. But why bring me here? The only explanation that fits is that I was held somewhere nearby. If not, they would have taken me straight to a safe house in Manhattan.
“You must be in pain… let me give you something for that, then I’ll get Dante,” she says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I watch her move from the cabinet back to my side, syringe in hand, and feel the sting of medication as she administers it.
“Who are you?” I rasp, barely recognizing my own hoarse voice. “I’m Elle Thomas, the doctor who was brought to… ah, help you.” She hesitates, and the pause is sharp enough to cut through the haze. There’s a story buried in that silence. Why her? Why the hell didn’t they use a Family doctor?
After administering my pain medication, she rushes out, leaving behind the faint scent of vanilla. Her beauty lingers, stirring in me an unfamiliar urge to protect her. Dante, my brother and underboss, and Dario, my cousin and head of security, burst into the room.
“My brother, we were worried. You lost a lot of blood, and then you had a fever when your wound became infected,” Dante says, his voice trembling with emotion. He places a gentle hand on my bandaged shoulder.
“If Dante hadn’t found Elle, I’m not sure you would’ve survived,” Dario adds from the other side of the bed. “Who the fuck is Elle, and why—” I snarl, the words cutting off in my throat.
“She’s the doctor we kidnapped from a nearby hospital,” Dante says before I can finish my question. “Are you two shitheads telling me that instead of contacting a Family doctor, you brought a stranger with no ties here?” I snarl, pain flaring in my shoulder and a pounding headache is rising.
“None of our doctors were available, cousin. You needed urgent care. By the time we found you, you’d lost too much blood and had become unresponsive.” I shake my head. Reckless, doesn’t even begin to describe these two.
“We promised that if she saved you, we’d release her,” Dario adds, his tone firm. The room falls quiet after Dario’s words. My head throbs, the pain in my shoulder pulsates with every heartbeat, but it’s nothing compared to the storm that rages inside me.
Elle. The name lingers and circulates through my mind, wrapped in the faint scent of vanilla she left behind. She saved my life—that much is undeniable. Yet she’s a stranger, someone outside the Family—dragged here against her will. Gratitude claws at me.
I glance at Dante and Dario. Their faces are etched with exhaustion, but also relief. They gambled to save my life, and somehow, it paid off. Still, their recklessness burns in me.
“She’s not one of ours,” I mutter, my voice low, but sharp. “You risked everything bringing her here. If word gets out…” I trail off, the headache pounding harder.
Dante’s jaw tightens, but his hand remains steady on my shoulder. “We had no choice, brother. You were dying. She was the only one who could save you.”
Dario leans forward, his tone firm. “We promised her freedom if she kept you alive. And she did. You owe her your life.”
I close my eyes, torn between fury and reluctant acknowledgment. Elle Thomas. A stranger. A doctor. My savior. And now, a complication I can’t ignore.
“What about her family? Her job? Wouldn’t someone have noticed by now—maybe even called the police?” My voice rises with exasperation.
Dante shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes.
“Dom… we had her call her job. She told them she had to leave town for an emergency.” “And how exactly did you get her to agree to this?” Dante hesitates, then blurts, “Well… I used persuasive maneuvering—with a pistol pointed at her.” Dario’s gaze swivels between us, waiting for the eruption he knows is coming.
My blood boils at the thought of Elle’s panic. I force a deep breath, steadying myself. They know I don’t condone violence against women—not after what my mother endured at my father’s hands.
“And she doesn’t have any family,” Dario adds quickly. “She grew up in foster care.” Before I can respond, the door opens. Elle steps inside, pausing as if to gather herself. Clearing her throat nervously, she says, “It’s time to change your dressing.”
She moves around the room, collecting supplies with quiet determination.
“We’ll finish this later.” Clearly, they got the message as they nodded, leaving the room like they couldn’t get away quickly enough.
Elle sits in the chair she vacated earlier.
Pulling it closer to get a better view of my shoulder.
Her elegant fingers expertly cut the bandages open, poking gently at the skin around my sutured wound causing me to flinch.
“Sorry…the wound looks good, there’s no sign of infection,” she murmurs and bites her lower lip in concentration. I force myself to look away. After an ointment is applied, she then dresses the injury.
“It’s okay, the pain isn’t too bad. Whatever you gave me earlier helped—it’s just a dull ache now.” She nods, avoiding my eyes. “Roll over. I need to check your back.” With a grunt, I obey. The coolness of her touch sends a pleasant shiver through me.
“I don’t think these need dressing anymore,” she murmurs, barely audible. Her warm breath grazes my skin, and I curse silently as my body reacts in ways it shouldn’t. Fucking hell! She’ll think that I’m a pervert.
Thank God for the sheet covering me. She mustn’t notice. After everything—being kidnapped, forced to treat me—it would be unforgivable to impose anything on her.
When I roll back, she starts to move away, but I catch her wrist gently. A sharp jolt courses through me, but I push it aside as I fight to sit upright. She steadies me, tucking pillows behind my back.
“I want to thank you, Elle, for saving me. I know I can’t apologize enough for how you were brought here. But as my brother promised, we’ll let you go as soon as we’re able to leave.”
Elle’s face flushes as she says, “Okay. Eh, who did this to you?” I pause before answering—being deliberately vague. “I have enemies. I can’t tell you more—for your own safety.” She jerks her hands back, eyes wide, and rushes from the room, leaving me with the echo of her retreat.