Chapter 6 - Scars Beneath the Silk
The intruder was dragged away before the police sirens could even be imagined—Port Ash law enforcement didn't answer calls to the Vale estate unless Dominic invited them for coffee.
By 4:00 AM, the mansion had settled back into an eerie, unnatural quiet.
I sat on the edge of the clawfoot tub in the master bathroom—Dominic had insisted I move into his suite after the breach, claiming the guest wing had a compromised vector—while Dominic himself knelt on the tile floor with a first-aid kit.
He was carefully unwrapping the gauze around my right shoulder.
The stitching was angry, red, and swollen from the recoil of the pistol.
“You tore the lower suture,” Dominic said quietly, his large fingers moving with surprising gentleness as he cleaned the wound with antiseptic.
“I didn't have much of a choice, did I?” I winced, hissing as the alcohol bit into the raw flesh.
“You could have stayed in the closet like I told you.”
“And let him shoot you in the back?” I shot back, looking down at the dark crown of his head as he worked. “I’m not a pet you can lock in a box, Dominic. I’m the one who took three bullets for your niece. Remember?”
Dominic stopped moving. His hands rested on my thighs, his warm palms heating the cotton of my shorts. He didn't look up immediately.
When he finally raised his head, the shadows in his eyes looked older than the century.
“My brother David—Sophie’s father—was weak,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, raw register. “He thought he could play in the shipping syndicates without paying the blood tax. When Calder came for him, David ran. He left his daughter in a diner and tried to bargain with men who only understand executions.”
Dominic reached up, his thumb lightly brushing across the pale scar on my collarbone—an old bicycle accident from when I was ten.
“I spent my entire life building this empire so no one in my family would ever have to crawl through dirt again,” he whispered. “And yet, the only person who stood in front of a bullet for my blood... was a girl from Second Street who was three days late on her rent.”
“We’ve all got places we’re trying to run away from,” I said softly, reaching out to touch his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath my fingertips. “Mine had roaches and a broken radiator. Yours has bulletproof glass and dead men in the hallway.”
May you like
Dominic caught my hand, pressing his lips against the inside of my wrist, right over my pulse point. The heavy black diamond of the Vale ring scraped gently against my skin.
“You aren't running anymore, Emma,” he swore against my skin. “Nobody touches you. Not Calder. Not anyone.”
