Page 97 of Bound in Ruin

He steps out of the shadows, looking immaculate, a twisted, victorious sneer carved onto his face. Before I can scramble away, he lurches forward, grabbing me by the hair and yanks my head back violently. I gasp in pain as he hauls me up against his chest, locking an arm around my shoulders.

The cold, razor-sharp edge of a blade presses instantly into the sensitive skin right under my jaw line.

"Don't move a single fucking muscle," Dante hisses directly into my ear, his hot breath foul against my neck.

I stiffen, my hands clutching blindly at his forearm, trying to keep my neck away from the steel. "Dante..."

"Shut up!" he snarls, pressing the sharp tip just hard enough to draw a thin trickle of heat down my skin. "You think you're clever, don't you? Sitting in that estate with Kane, playing house, thinking you can hide behind his security while you steal what belongs to my family?"

"I didn't steal anything⁠—"

"You're going to stand up at that legal arbitration on Monday," Dante cuts in, his voice now a deadly, low whisper that sends a shudder straight down my spine. "You are going to declare every single account, every clearance code, and every single document to be DeLorenzo property. You will hand over total control, and you will walk away."

He presses the blade deeper, forcing me to tilt my chin back toward the stars.

"Because if you drop a single word about what happened tonight, or if you refuse to give me back what's mine during that meeting..." Dante presses his mouth right against my ear, his tone dripping with poisonous malice. "...I promise you, Rosalia, I will make sure Dominic Kane does not see another day. I will tear his life apart piece by piece, and I will make you watch him die."

CHAPTER THIRTY

DOMINIC

"Drive faster, Keane! Step on the fucking gas!"

I shout so loud the veins in my neck feel like they're going to burst, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped animal. The speedometer on the SUV is pushed to its absolute limit, the engine screaming as we weave wildly through the midnight traffic.

Less than an hour ago, I was standing outside one of my primary uptown clubs, watching smoke pour out of the shattered front doors. The arson was clean, precise, and calculated—a sudden fire meant to draw my full attention and pull my top security detail away from the estate.

And then, minutes ago, while still managing the chaos, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

A single, high-priority panic ping from the lead guard assigned to Rosalia's escort team.

They had radioed in just twenty minutes before that to confirm they had left her sister's house and were en route home. Everything was supposed to be fine. Everything was supposed to be safe. But the second that red emergency alert flashed on my screen, a sickening, suffocating dread settled in my gut, choking the fucking air right out of my lungs.

I’ve been calling the lead guard’s cell over and over for the last fifteen minutes. Nothing. Straight to voicemail. I called the secondary unit. Nothing. I tried calling Rosalia directly, but her phone goes straight to a dead ring.

Fuck. Fuck!

If anything happens to her out there—if anyone touches a single hair on her head—I will lose my mind. I will burn every street in this godforsaken city to ash, and I will tear apart whoever dared lay a hand on her with my bare hands.

"Dom, I'm doing eighty down a sixty!" Keane grunts, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel, taking a hard left turn that makes the tires screech against the pavement. "We're two minutes away from the last pinged GPS coordinate!"

"It was a trap," I growl, the horrific realization hitting me like a physical blow to the head. "The fire at the club... it wasn't about my money or my territory. It was a distraction. It was a play to pull me away from her side!"

Pure, unadulterated rage boils through my blood, wild and terrifying.

Unable to contain the violent surge of adrenaline tearing through my veins, I slam my fist violently into the passenger side window. The reinforced glass cracks under the force of the hit, webbed fractures spreading across the panel.

"Hurry up, Keane!" I roar, staring out into the dark, empty stretch of highway ahead. "Hurry the fuck up!"

The second Keane slams the brakes, I fling the car door open before the vehicle even comes to a complete halt.

The scene on the road is a nightmare. The red and blue lights of abandoned police cruisers cut through the dark, illuminating blood on the asphalt and the motionless bodies of my men. The attack is already over.

"Rosalia!" I roar into the night, my hand instantly drawing the weapon at my hip.

Then I see her.

She’s standing near the edge of the road, trembling violently, her face pale as a sheet. My heart slams against my ribs with violent relief. I sprint across the distance between us, tossing my gun aside, and pull her hard into my arms.