“You think I enjoyed kissing Harrow and all those people?” Dom's voice was incredulous.
“I think you're very good at what you do. And I think that scares me. Because if you can perform that convincingly with someone you hate, how do I know what's real between us?” The words were coming faster now. “How do I know you're not just playing another role? That this isn't just you being thorough? Making sure your partner stays invested in the case?”
Dom's expression went dark. “That's what you think this is?”
“I don't know what to think anymore. I watched you kiss the man who destroyed your sister. Who destroyed my partner. Who's corrupted everything we care about. And you did it so convincingly that for a second I wondered if maybe you'd gotten a taste for the power he represents.”
“You're not that stupid, Cal. So stop pretending you are.” Dom moved forward. I held my ground this time. “I kissed him because the scene required it. Because selling the illusion meant giving him what he wanted. Because the faster we hooked him, the faster we could execute the real operation and get the hell out of there.”
“And the woman? The way you ate her out like you were starving for it?”
“Was part of the show. Same as everything else.”
“It looked real.”
“It was supposed to look real. That was the whole point.” Dom's hands came up. Cupped my face. Forced me to meethis gaze. “But this—us—this is real. And if you can't see the difference, then we have bigger problems than jealousy.”
I wanted to pull away. Wanted to maintain the anger because anger was safer than vulnerability. But his hands were warm and his eyes were steady and something in me was cracking despite all attempts to hold it together.
“I'm not good at this,” I said finally. Voice quieter. “At caring about someone. At letting someone matter enough to hurt me. Because losing someone again would destroy me. And then you—” I stopped. Swallowed. “You made me need you. Made me want things I'd convinced myself I couldn't have. And watching you tonight reminded me exactly how easily I could lose you.”
“You're not losing me.” Dom's thumbs brushed my cheekbones. “I'm right here. Still yours. Still committed to this. To us.”
“Even after what I just said? After I basically accused you of?—”
“After you had an emotional reaction to a fucked up situation and processed it in the only way you know how? Yes. Even after that.” His mouth curved slightly. “You think this is the first time someone's called me a hypocrite? Or questioned my motives? I've been called worse for better reasons.”
“I shouldn't have?—”
“No, you should have. You should say what you're feeling. Even when it's ugly. Even when it makes you vulnerable.” Dom leaned in. Rested his forehead against mine. “We don't work if we're not honest. If we're both just performing our roles and hoping the other person doesn't notice the cracks.”
“I hate feeling like this. Out of control. Jealous. Needy.”
“I know. But that's what happens when you let someone in. When you stop operating alone.” His hands slid down to my neck. My shoulders. Grounding me. “And for the record? I hated every second of touching Harrow. Hated kissing him. Theonly thing that made it bearable was knowing it was temporary. Knowing that at the end of the night, I'd come back to you.”
The words settled something in my chest. Not fixing everything. But enough to let me breathe properly again.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “For accusing you. For letting jealousy compromise my judgment.”
“Don't apologise for having feelings. Apologise for trying to hide them behind investigator mode and then exploding when that didn't work.” Dom's mouth curved. “But I accept the apology anyway.”
“I'm still a hypocrite.”
“Yes. But you're my hypocrite. And I wouldn't have you any other way.” He kissed me. Soft. Gentle. Nothing like the performance from earlier. Just us. Real and complicated and messy.
When he pulled back, I was steadier. Still raw. Still processing. But no longer drowning in jealousy and rage.
“We got what we needed,” I said quietly. Returning to the original point.
“And Harrow knows we're coming for him now,” Dom replied. “No more subtlety. No more careful moves. This is war.”
“Good.” I turned my head to look at him properly. “I'm tired of playing careful. Let's finish this.”
Dom kissed my temple.
We stood there in his quarters. Both of us half-dressed. Both of us exhausted. Both of us knowing that tomorrow would bring new dangers and the endgame was accelerating faster than either of us had planned.
But right now, in this moment, we had each other. Had truth between us even when that truth was ugly. Had commitment that had survived jealousy and performance and the particular horror of watching the person you loved kiss the monster you were hunting.
Men like Harrow didn't surrender. They escalated until everyone around them was either dead or broken.
We had proof now. We had names. We had evidence of corruption that could bring down not just Harrow but the entire network protecting him.
All we had to do was survive long enough to use it.
