Page 61 of Bound in Ruin

"Keane, wait in the study," Dominic barks over his shoulder, his tone cutting through the hallway like a blade. "We need to talk."

Keane nods once and immediately turns toward the office, while Helena follows us into the bedroom. Dominic gently places me down on the edge of the bed, setting Yapper down right beside me. Helena hurries over, gently pulling back the torn fabric of my sweater to inspect the wound.

"It's just a shallow graze, thank God," Helena breathes out a quiet sigh of relief, reaching for a clean cloth to press against it. "It's not deep, sweetie. You're going to be just fine."

Dominic stands at the foot of the bed, staring at the blood on my clothes, his dark eyes completely unreadable, heavy with a suffocating, lethal weight. He takes a slow, deep breath, forcing his posture to settle.

He turns his dark gaze to me. "I'll be back," he says, his voice gravelly. "I have to take care of some stuff."

I look up at him, understanding the storm brewing beneath his quiet exterior, and manage a small, reassuring smile. "Okay."

He nods once, turns on his heel, and walks out of the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DOMINIC

I don't just walk to my study—I storm down the corridor, every single muscle in my body pulled taut like a bowstring, my hands visibly shaking with a chaotic mix of blinding anger and gut-wrenching relief.

Relief. That's the part that terrifies me the most.

If I had been thirty seconds later... if I had taken a different turn... if I hadn't pushed the engine just a little faster on the drive back... Rosalia would be gone.

She’d be locked in the back of that van, dragged off into the dark to God knows where, and that brave little dog would be lying dead on the side of the road.

A fierce wave of gratitude hits me for that tiny, ridiculous creature. Yapper. As small and useless as he seems, he didn't hesitate for a single second. He fought for her. He threw himself straight into harm's way to protect my wife when my own security failed her.

I was flying down that stretch of road, full speed, when I caught the black van pulled over sideways. My first instinct was to drive right past it and let whatever street filth was happening resolve itself—until my eyes caught the wild flash of dark hair and the fierce, defiant posture of the woman struggling against those men.

My heart had stopped dead in my chest. I almost couldn't believe my own eyes. What was she doing outside the estate grounds? Why was she out there alone?

And then I saw them grab her. I saw her fight back, saw them try to force her into the van, and a rage so hot and violent flared in my chest that I lost all human thought.

God, I was so angry. I wanted to tear those bastards apart with my bare hands.

I slam the heavy oak doors of my study shut behind me, the sharp crack echoing off the high walls like a gunshot.

Keane is already standing near the bar, holding a glass filled with amber liquid. He doesn't say a word as he steps forward and hands it over. I grab it and gulp the entire thing down in one swallow, savoring the harsh, violent burn as it trails down my throat and settles in my chest.

"The guards at the main gate," I growl, setting the empty glass down on the desk with a sharp clack. "Fire them. All of them. Effective immediately."

Keane raises an eyebrow, but I cut him off before he can even think about offering an excuse.

"I don't care what they thought," I snap. "Rosalia is never—ever—to cross those gates alone again. If she wants to step foot outside this estate, they do not stop her, but they damn well assemble a team and follow her steps. Letting her walk out there unprotected was a death sentence."

Keane lets out a quiet sigh, nodding in solemn agreement. "Consider it done, Dominic."

"Next," I order, leaning my palms heavy against the edge of the mahogany desk, "I want every soldier on duty searching the entire estate and sweeping the surrounding tree line. I want thermal imaging, guards on the perimeter, and scouts on the back roads. Make sure those three weren't just the advance party for a larger team."

Keane nods again, pulling out his phone. "I'm making the call now."

While Keane quietly barks orders down the line to our security chiefs, I pace the length of the study, my boots digging into the Persian rug, my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

Once Keane ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket, I turn to him, my jaw locked. "Let's lay it out. The proxy I took out earlier tonight proved Dante was bribing Sterling to strip Rosalia of her inheritance. Then, not even two hours later, three masked bastards try to snatch her off the street right outside my front door. They weren't trying to gut her, Keane. They were trying to take her alive."

Keane's eyes narrow as he processes the timeline. "You think Dante panicked?"

"I know he panicked," I say, a dark, murderous smile touching my lips. "I called him right after I killed his proxy and told him I was taking everything. He knows he can't win in court if Sterling stays clean, so he tried to snatch Rosalia to use her as leverage against me. He's getting sloppy, he's getting desperate, and he's becoming far more aggressive."