Dom closes the laptop and turns to face me. "Do you really think we’d kidnap a child? Murder the wife of a don? What purpose would that serve except to fracture our unity?"
I close my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed.
The room spins slightly, my concussion mixing with emotional exhaustion.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I admit. "Everything I've built my career on feels like quicksand."
Dom takes my hand in his. "Hey," he says softly. "It's okay to be confused. You've been through hell."
I try to blink back tears but fail. "I feel so…unmoored. I can’t wrap my mind around any of this. I feel like an idiot.”
"No," Dom says firmly, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever met. You're just tired and hurt right now."
"Do you know how many hours I've spent building a case against you? Thousands. Years of surveillance, financial investigations, witness interviews. And for what?" I gesture at the laptop between us. "I've got nothing solid. Meanwhile, I've collected more evidence against my own boss in two weeks than I have against you in four years."
Dom's eyes crinkle at the corners as he breaks into a wide grin.
"Maybe that's because I haven't committed any crimes," he says with exaggerated innocence.
I snort. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."
"Your Majesty," he says with a mock bow that makes me laugh despite myself.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, we're just two people sharing a joke, not criminal and cop.
"You know what keeps me up at night?" Dom asks, his voice softening as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers linger against my cheek.
"What?" I ask, not pulling away like I should.
"The fact that I can't stop thinking about you." His confession hangs between us. "I should be worried about La Corona, about whoever's trying to set us up, about keeping my family safe. Instead, I find myself wondering what you're doing, if you're okay, if you're thinking about me too."
His thumb traces my jawline, and I feel my pulse quicken.
"It's wrong," he continues. "Everything about this is wrong. You're FBI. I'm... well, you know what I am. But I can't help it."
The air between us feels electric, charged with possibilities.
I should push him away. Put on the breaks. But I can't form the words. Because despite everything, I want him.
I lean into his touch, just for a moment. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
Dom studies me. "You can trust me, Olivia. At least with this."
"Can I?" I challenge. "You’re not beyond doing the very things you’re accusing my boss of. Coercion. Manipulation.”
"I'm asking you to find the truth," he counters. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? Justice for everyone, even for people like Rocco and Mrs. Ferraza? Do they not deserve justice too?"
His words hit their mark. He knows exactly which buttons to push.
“You said we can work together. You have access to FBI resources I can't reach. I have connections and information you'll never get through official channels. Together, we might actually figure out who's pulling the strings."
"And then what?" I ask. "If it turns out Blackwood is corrupt, what's your plan? Because if it involves anything illegal?—"
"One step at a time," he interrupts. "First, we gather evidence. Then we decide how to use it."
“I won’t be a part of murder.”
