Page 60 of Bound in Ruin

I thrash violently, kicking and screaming, but the weight of the two grown men completely overwhelms me. They lift me off my feet, hauling my writhing body toward the open side door of the dark van.

Below us, Yapper refuses to give up. The brave little puppy circles their boots, barking hysterically, snapping at their pant legs to try and free me.

"Get this fucking pest off me!" one of the men growls, drawing his heavy boot back.

"No! Don't touch him!" I scream, the sound tearing raw from my throat.

The man kicks out, his boot catching Yapper square in his ribs, sending the small dog tumbling into the gravel grass with a pained, sharp yelp.

"YAPPER!" I shriek, tears of pure fury blinding my eyes as I kick wildly against my captors.

Before they can drag me three steps closer to the van, the sharp, deafening screech of burning rubber shatters the night air. A SUV slams to a halt inches from the van's bumper, trapping it completely.

The driver’s side door bursts open.

Like a miracle, Dominic emerges.

The air instantly drops ten degrees. His face is a mask of pure, unadulterated death—his jaw locked, eyes blacked out with a terrifying rage that makes the three attackers freeze in their tracks. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't make a threat.

In one fluid, blindingly fast motion, Dominic draws his suppressed firearm.

Pfft. Pfft.

Two clean shots ring out in quick succession. The two men holding me collapse instantly onto the cold asphalt, dead before they hit the ground.

I drop to my knees, gasping for air, but before the third man—the one who kicked Yapper—can even reach for his knife, Dominic closes the distance in two long strides. He grabs the man by his throat, slamming him violently against the side of the van, and drives a heavy blade straight up beneath the man's jaw, killing him where he stands with terrifying, cold-blooded efficiency.

Silence returns to the dark road, save for the idling rumble of the SUV's engine.

Dominic drops the lifeless body to the pavement like trash. He steps over the blood, his breathing heavy, his dark eyes sweeping over me to check for injuries. The murderous fury in his expression instantly melts into stark, fierce concern.

Without waiting for me to stand, he bends down, scoops me up into his arms like a bride, and cradles me firmly against his broad, warm chest.

"Dominic..." I choke out, my hands clutching his dark coat, pointing weakly toward the grass.

But I don’t need to speak; it’s like he understands me.

Dominic pauses, scanning the curb until he spots the puppy shaking in the weeds. He gently leans down to scoop Yapper up with his free hand and tucks the trembling dog safely against my chest before marching straight back toward his SUV, holding us both like his entire world depended on it.

He puts me and Yapper in the back seat and slams the door shut before getting behind the wheel and starting to drive the short distance back to the estate.

"Dominic... Yapper was kicked," I whisper, my voice shaking as I cradle the small, trembling dog against my lap. "He needs a vet. Please."

He doesn't respond. He doesn't even look back in the rearview mirror, but I can see his knuckles turned stark white on the leather steering wheel, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles are visibly twitching. He picks up his phone, taps the screen, and presses it to his ear.

"Something happened," Dominic says into the speaker, his tone dangerously low, vibrating with suppressed violence. "I need a doctor and a vet at the house immediately."

He hangs up without waiting for an answer. I can tell he’s trying to exert every ounce of his self-control to keep his anger from exploding right here in the car.

The moment we pull up to the front entrance, the wooden doors fly open. Helena and Keane step out, both of them freezing in complete shock as they take in the scene—Dominic striding up the steps with me cradled in his arms, covered in dirt and dark stains, holding a whimpering Yapper against my chest.

"My goodness! What happened?!" Helena gasps, her hands flying to her mouth.

"The doctor and vet are already en route," Keane says quickly, stepping out of the way to give us room, his face grave. "They'll be here in five minutes."

A sharp, throbbing ache blooms across my ribs, and when I glance down, I notice a tear in my sweater where dark blood has soaked through the fabric. I think one of those knives grazed me in the struggle, though with all the adrenaline pumping through my veins, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it looks bad.

"Dominic, what on earth—" Helena rushes after us, her voice tight with panic as Dominic ignores everyone, carrying me straight down the grand corridor toward the master suite.