Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
ROISIN
A nd so, the subterfuge begins. Me sneaking out for clandestine meetings with Dominic, which Emylyah has become wholly complicit with, since she’s often my excuse during those times I can’t just sneak out of the compound unnoticed.
Spa outings become a regular cover for our assignations. Lyah and I turning up for a waxing or a massage, my bodyguard waiting in the lobby, while I sneak out of the rear entrance to meet Dominic and return the same way, leaving no one any the wiser.
Shopping trips no longer involve high fashion but buying baby things and maternity wear.
Overnight stays ostensibly with Emylyah which I really spend in a hotel room with Dominic.
The one thing we haven’t worked out yet is how we’re going to get through this… and time is running out. At twelve weeks, I already have the start of a baby bump, but I can’t fault Dominic. He may not have said the three little words I so desperately want to hear from him, but he’s been with me every step of the way. True to his word, he set up a meeting with his doctor-friend, who in turn recommended an OB-GYN. And he’s been by my side, not blinking an eye at being on record as the father of my child, and holding my hand, both literally and figuratively, for every appointment.
Which brings us to today’s ultrasound scan.
I'm lying on the examination table, my shirt pulled up to expose my growing belly, as the technician spreads cold gel across my skin. Dominic stands beside me, his hand clasped tightly in mine. The anticipation is palpable as we wait to see our baby for the first time.
The technician moves the wand across my abdomen, and suddenly, there it is on the screen–a tiny, flickering heartbeat. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel Dominic's grip tighten.
"There's your baby," the technician says with a smile. "Everything looks healthy and on track for twelve weeks."
I can't tear my eyes away from the screen, watching in awe as our child moves and stretches. It's all becoming so real now, and the weight of our situation hits me anew. How much longer can we keep this secret?
As if reading my thoughts, Dominic leans down and whispers in my ear, "We'll figure it out, Roisin. I promise."
I turn to look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt or regret, but all I see is determination and something else–something that makes my heart skip a beat. Could it be love?
The moment is interrupted by the technician's voice. "Would you like to hear the heartbeat?"
We both nod eagerly, and suddenly the room is filled with a rapid, rhythmic whooshing sound. Tears spring to my eyes as I listen to our baby's heartbeat, strong and steady. Dominic's thumb gently strokes the back of my hand, and I can see he's just as moved as I am.
As we leave the clinic, our hands filled with ultrasound pictures, the reality of our situation comes crashing back. We can't keep sneaking around forever. Sooner or later, someone is going to notice my growing belly, and then what?
"We need a plan," I say as we climb into Dominic's car. "A real one, not just these stolen moments."
He nods, his expression serious. "I know. I've been thinking about it non-stop. We could leave, start fresh somewhere else."
The idea is tempting, but I just don’t know. "Do you really think it would work? My family would never stop looking for me. And I know damn well the Cosa Nostra don’t allow their capos to simply leave. Besides, how would we live? Especially with a baby to support."
"None of that matters as much as you and the baby. I have money saved; we could leave the country. Go far enough away that we can’t be found.”
I consider his words. Do I really want to put myself in a position where I never see my family again? My best friend? Deprive my child of the stability of an extended family, uncles, grandparents, cousins? Live life on the run? Always looking over our shoulders to see if someone has found us?
And what if Dominic comes to resent me for forcing him away from his own family? He hasn’t even told me he loves me… and if he doesn’t, what chance do we have of surviving against those kinds of odds?
I find I can’t answer that question, even though I’m not sure there’s any other viable option.
Dominic must sense my hesitation because he reaches over and takes my hand. "We don't have to decide right now. Just think about it, okay?”
I nod, grateful for his understanding. We drive in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts, but all too soon we reach the spa, where I’m supposed to be having a treatment with Emylyah. I can’t help the sense of foreboding I feel as I get out of Dominic’s car and lean in to kiss him through the open window. I guess his idea has unnerved me more than I imagined. I also know we’re out of time.
With a heavy sigh, I raise my hand and walk away, and as always, Dominic waits, watching to make sure I’m safely inside the building before he leaves.
I know something is wrong as soon as I walk through the door. There’s an unusual silence and the atmosphere is tense. My heart starts to race as I enter the treatment room, immediately spotting Emylyah, standing rigidly by the massage bed, her husband Nikolai’s uncompromising arm banded around her waist, her expression wretched. His eyes meet mine and his grim countenance confirms my worst fears. I’ve been found out. I can only hope my brothers don’t know yet…
“Niko, I can explain…” I start.
He cuts me off, his words short, his Ukrainian accent heavy. “It’s not me you need to be explaining to.”
Before I can say any more, the distinctive sound of a gunshot sounds from outside and my blood runs cold.
My heart stops as I rush to the window, praying I'm wrong about what I just heard. But there, on the street below, I see Dominic's car, the driver's side window shattered. Two familiar figures approach the vehicle–Ciaran and Callum, my brothers.
"No!" I scream, my voice raw with panic. I whirl around to face Nikolai, desperation clawing at my chest. "Please, you have to stop them!"
Nikolai's expression remains impassive. "This is family business, Roisin. It’s not my place to interfere."
Emylyah reaches for me, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Roisin. They found out somehow. I tried to warn you, but..."
I don't wait to hear the rest. Pushing past them both, I race down the stairs, taking them two at a time. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the urgent need to reach Dominic.
As I burst out onto the street, I see Ciaran dragging Dominic from the car. Blood stains his shirt–he's been hit. Callum stands nearby, his gun still raised.
"Stop!" I scream, my voice raw and desperate. "Please, don't hurt him!"
Ciaran's head snaps up at the sound of my voice, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my disheveled appearance. Dominic slumps against the car, his hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder.
"Roisin, get back inside," he stutters. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t even speak to her, asshole,” Callum growls, lifting his weapon to cuff the side of Dominic’s head.
Ignoring both of them, I rush forward, only to get caught up in the aggression. The next thing I know, I’m on the ground, my head spinning, and the wind knocked out of me.
From somewhere above me, there’s an almighty roar, followed by the sounds of a fistfight. “You fuckers! You curse me for being with Roisin, but this is the way you treat her?”
I don’t know where Dominic finds the strength, but he battles to get to me, his hand lands on my shoulder where I’m curled up on the ground in a fetal position. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, despite everything.
Before I can reply, he’s yanked away, my brothers jumping him as soon as his guard is down. I hear the distinctive sound of a handgun being cocked and an inhuman sound is torn from my throat, piercing the air like a banshee wail. "No! It’s not what you think!" I gasp.
"Oh, I think we understand perfectly," Ciaran snarls.
“Stop!” Nikolai’s voice cuts through whatever argument is about to be made. “This is not the place, druz'ya ,” he tells them as the sound of sirens come closer. “Take it somewhere else while you still can.”
Emylyah rushes to my side, throwing her arms around me, carefully helping me off the ground, whispering to ask me if I’m alright. Her husband may not have intentionally meant to save Dominic’s life, but that’s the result. For now, anyway. I’m painfully aware it might only be a temporary respite, but at least it gives me time to talk some sense into my brothers so I can keep him that way.
“Get Roisin home, right now!” Lyah turns her righteous anger on my brothers like she’s not stepping way out of line, giving orders to the heads of an opposing underworld syndicate. “She’s been through enough lately and doesn’t need this bullshit.”
Gotta love that girl.
Niko rolls his eyes and takes her by the arm, pulling her away from where she’s right up in my armed brothers’ faces. “ Tebe nuzhna khoroshaya porka,” he mutters.
I’m close enough to hear his words, even though I don’t know what they mean. I can hazard a guess though, if the way Lyah dips her head and blushes bright red is any indication.
Meanwhile, Callum has his gun trained on the man I love, while Ciaran pushes him into the back seat of the vehicle. Then Callum grabs my arm, depositing me none too gently in the front seat, eliciting a low growl from Dominic, which earns him an elbow in the gut from Ciaran. I don’t dare turn around, but I will him not to encourage any more of their ire.
Callum jumps into the driver’s seat and tears away in a squeal of tires and the stench of burned rubber. The tension in the car is suffocating as we speed through the city streets. I can hear Dominic's labored breathing from the backseat. I'm desperate to turn around, to check on him, to offer some comfort. But Callum's iron grip on the steering wheel and the murderous look in his eyes keep me frozen in place.
Fear, sharp and toxic, writhes in my gut, the bitter taste coating my tongue, making me want to gag as I struggle to swallow. The deafening roar of my own heartbeat, the pounding of blood rushing in my ears drowns out every other sound. I can feel it as a tightness in my chest, the way my heart races and my hands shake. It's like a physical weight, pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe, and I can only hope I don’t pass out or vomit. I need to be one hundred percent in the present if I have any hope of saving Dominic.
Callum pulls up in front of the ár n-áit compound in a spray of gravel, jolting to a stop, and my brothers waste no time dragging Dominic from the car. “Go to your room and stay there,” Callum orders.
Incensed beyond measure, I spin around and turn on him. “Excuse me?” I say, jutting out my hip and jamming my fist on it. “You do not get to make demands and tell me what to do.”
“So help me god, Roisin, just do as you’re told for once in your life, or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and getting in his face.
“Or I’ll goddamn spank you myself,” he snarls, his nose almost touching mine.
“Yeah? You and whose army?” I demand, refusing to back down.
“Quit it, you two,” Ciaran grates out, walking Dominic around the side of the building, towards an entrance way that leads to the basement. Callum takes one last look at me, his angry eyes trying to get in the last word, and follows.
I’m surprised they’ve brought Dominic here. The twins decided long ago to do the wet work elsewhere, far away from where we live. They’re both well aware of the nightmares I used to have as a child when my father was still in charge and the sounds of torture and despair would ring out through the vent system.
Is that why they’ve done it? So I can hear everything they’re doing to Dominic?
Fifteen minutes later, in the sanctuary of my room, I wonder the same thing again. The muffled sounds of shouting and thuds filter up through the air vents, each one making me flinch. I pace back and forth, my mind racing with possible scenarios, each one worse than the last. What are they doing to him down there? How can I stop this?
I strain to make out words, but it's all just a jumble of angry voices and occasional cries of pain that I know are coming from Dominic. My tears are like a river, flooding my face as I struggle to think of a way out of this nightmare. My stomach churns and I have to swallow hard to keep from being sick. But the thought–the sound of his pain–is too much. Diving into the bathroom, I bring up the meager contents of my stomach and continue vomiting until there’s nothing but bile and dry retching. And yet still the aching nausea swims in my system, refusing to let up. So much so, I start to feel lightheaded. Surely this can’t be normal.
My vision grays at the edges and my stomach cramps painfully. I clutch my abdomen, a different kind of fear encompassing me. I can’t lose my baby as well as Dominic. No matter the chaos it’s caused, I already love this child more than anything in this world. I love my brothers too, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive them for killing the man I love.
My head spins and I blindly reach for my phone, searching the cold tiles with my fingers as I try to remain conscious.
What the fuck is this? Concussion? A miscarriage?
It’s like a wave of fire, burning bright and consuming all logical thought, leaving behind nothing but ash and charred remnants. It’s raw and primal, a beast lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting to pounce and overpower all reason and logic. Thriving on my uncertainties, its presence is suffocating, a dead weight on my chest, choking the life out of me and causing my limbs to tremble uncontrollably. Fear is what’s in control here, its grip tightening with each passing moment.
My fingers close around my phone and with shaking fingers I somehow manage to engage the speed dial.
Terrible sounds from the basement burrow into my brain, taking up residence there and tormenting me, until I force them out of my lungs with my own tortured scream.
“Roisin?… Roisin? Talk to me. What’s going on? Are you okay? Where are you?”
The panicked sound of Emylyah’s voice anchors me for a short moment of lucidity. “Lyah… help!” That’s all I manage before the black maw of darkness swallows me whole and I welcome the peace.