Chapter 46
Blood.
Her blood.
It was on everything. My hands, my shirt, the road, the air.
The smell of it was copper and smoke and hell. It clung to my throat, to my skin, to the part of me that still believed in control.
She was trembling in my arms. Every shiver rattled my bones.
“Don’t let me go.”
The words were small. I almost believed that I was imagining them. Just then her lips went slack. And her eyes, those bewitching green eyes, fluttered once, twice, and closed.
“No.”
I shook her. The sound that left my mouth didn't feel like mine.
“No, no, no, no, fuck, no!” My forehead touched hers. “Ara, don’t you fucking dare. You don’t get to leave me; do you hear me?”
The world roared. Tires screeched. Doors slammed. My men spilled from the SUVs, rifles raised.
“Boss! They’re coming down the road, armed!”
I looked up and saw them. The ones who touched her. The ones who made her bleed. The ones who made me feel this.
Something split in my chest, and it was not anger. It was something deeper, older, like grief lit on fire.
I laid her down, my jacket under her head, fingers shaking.
My voice was gone when I spoke. “Kill them all.”
The command left me cold.
Gunfire erupted. My men moved like wolves. The air was filled with screams and smoke. But I didn’t look away from her. I couldn’t. Every sound was muffled under the pounding in my ears.
Her pulse stuttered under my thumb, faint, fluttering yet stubborn.
“Stay with me, principessa.” My voice broke. “Please. Just—stay.”
Another burst of gunfire. A car exploded.
One of my men shouted something about victory, about how the road was ours again.
I couldn’t even look. There was no victory if she was not breathing.
“If you die,” I whispered, words catching on my teeth. “I’ll burn everything. I’ll tear this entire fucking world apart until there’s nothing left but your name in the ashes.”
A scream. Not hers. One of theirs. Good.
Let it keep going. Let it never end.
“Take no prisoners,” I barked without looking up. “Not one of them walks away.”
They obeyed. They always did.
I lifted her again.
She was so light it felt so wrong. Like she was not meant to weigh this little. Like the world already took too much from her.
“Get the car,” I growled.
Sanaa appeared out of nowhere, pale, shaking, eyes wide. “Oh my God—”
“Move!” I barked at her.
She moved, pulling the back door open, hands trembling. I slid Ara inside, her head against my chest.
Her blood soaked through my shirt, hot and steady. I held her tighter, as if that could stop the bleeding.
“Hospital. Now!” I ordered the driver, voice low and raw. “If you don’t drive like the devil’s on your tail, I’ll put you there myself.”
The engine roared to life.
I pressed my lips to Ara’s forehead. Her skin was cold. Too cold.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered into her hair. “I’ve got you, baby.”
My heart was clawing at my ribs, begging for her to move, to breathe, to fucking live. Her pulse flickered again. Weak. Barely there.
“Stay with me,” I whispered. “You stay with me, Ara.”
Her lips parted. A sound, not a word, just a breath.
I bent close, voice shaking. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me. Not again.”
The driver swerved around a truck, horns blaring, tires screaming. Sanaa was crying, pressing her hand to a wound that won’t stop bleeding.
Then her body jerked. HARD.
“Shit—Ara!” I grabbed her, pinning her gently. “Breathe, principessa, come on. Come on.”
Her eyes flickered open, emerald meeting mine for half a second. The same eyes I saw the first time I ever wanted to kill someone just for looking at her wrong.
“Not again,” I whispered, trembling. “Not again, not like this.”
Her lips moved. Maybe it was my name. Maybe it was nothing.
Sanaa sobbed, “She said your name.”
I pressed my forehead to hers, closing my eyes. “Of course she did. She knows who the fuck I am.”
The phone buzzed in the front seat. My soldier’s voice. “Boss, it’s Aurelio.”
I didn’t think. I snarled. “Don’t answer.”
“But—”
“DON’T ANSWER!” The roar ripped out of me, too loud, too broken. Even Sanaa flinched.
I couldn’t hear his voice right now. Not when his future fiancée was bleeding out in my arms. Not when his father was the reason for her demise.
The hospital lights hit the windshield so bright, sterile, mocking.
I was out of the car before it fully stopped, scooping her up again.
The automatic doors burst open under my shoulder. The nurses screamed.
A gurney skid across the floor. I laid her down but refused to let go of her hand.
“She’s crashing!” one yelled.
“She’s not,” I snarled. “You bring her back to me; do you hear me? You do whatever it takes.”
They wheeled her away. And then she was gone.
My hand slipped from hers and suddenly the world was quiet. Too quiet.
I slammed my fist into the wall. The sound echoed down the hallway. I did it again. And again. Until my knuckles split, blood painting the white tiles.
Sanaa was sobbing. My men hovered at the edges, unsure if they should comfort me or stay out of reach. They choose the latter. Smart.
Then Aurelio stormed in. His face was fury and guilt.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“She’s alive,” I said. My voice sounded foreign, ragged. “Barely. That’s all that matters.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. I looked like I'd kill him if he tried. I was so close to punching him for his father’s mistake but that would be unfair to him.
After what felt like eternity, the doctor returned, wiping sweat from his brow. “She’s stable. The surgery went well, she’s unconscious, but alive.”
Alive.
I nodded once, but my legs nearly buckled.
They moved her to a VIP suite. The monitors hummed softly. She was bandaged, bruised, beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.
I sat beside her, hands trembling, brushing the hair from her face.
“You did good, baby,” I whispered. “You made it back.”
Her chest rose and fell. Barely.
“Now wake up,” I added. “You’ve got people to terrify. Syndicates to run. Me to yell at.”
Nothing. Just the steady beep of her heart.
Hours passed. The others came and left. Aurelio in the corner, Sanaa crying, Asvika pacing like a shadow.
Then Zorian walked by the glass wall. Untouched. Composed.
I stared at him until my vision shook.
He looked untouched, and it made something in me start to boil.
My fists clenched. My jaw locked.
How the fuck can he look unscathed when she was in there fighting for her life?
Sanaa grabbed my arm. “Dominic,” she whispered. “She’s alive. That’s all that matters, don’t lose yourself now.”
Too late.
Because when I looked at Ara, pale, fragile, wrapped in tubes and machines, I realised I was already gone.
Whatever humanity I had left was bleeding out with her.
And if she doesn’t wake up, I’ll raze the world. I’ll hunt every one of them until the streets echo with their names.
But for now, I sat. I waited. I breathed in the antiseptic air and the faint rhythm of her heartbeat.
And for the first time in my life, I was not thinking about revenge.
I was praying.
Not with words. Just silence and the weight of her hand in mine.
Because if she doesn’t wake up—There won’t be a Dominic left to save.
Only ruin.