Chapter 6 - The Scar Beneath the SuitDominic woke in a private clinic with Emma Reed asleep in a chair beside his bed.
For several seconds, he didn’t move.
He watched her.
Her hair had come loose from its clip. A bruise shadowed her wrist where rope or fingers had caught her during the rescue. Her sneakers were still wet. Someone had draped a blanket over her, but she had kicked half of it off in sleep.
She looked exhausted.
She looked stubborn.
She looked like every warning he had ever ignored.
Dominic tried to sit up.
Pain tore through his side.
Emma’s eyes opened instantly.
“Don’t,” she said.
He froze.
“You have stitches,” she continued. “Twelve, according to the doctor who looked terrified of you.”
Dominic leaned back. “Where is Sarah?”
“With Rosie. Detective Harris took her statement. She called you a dramatic refrigerator with cheekbones.”
He blinked.
Emma shrugged. “Trauma expresses itself differently.”
Dominic almost laughed, but pain stopped him.
Emma stood and poured water into a paper cup. “You were stabbed.”
“Yes.”
“You said the blood wasn’t yours.”
“I was mistaken.”
“You lied.”
“I was simplifying.”
She handed him the cup. “I’m going to pour this on you.”
He took it. “That would be counterproductive.”
“So is bleeding in alleys.”
They stared at each other.
Then Emma sat again, suddenly smaller in the chair.
“You could have died.”
Dominic’s grip tightened around the cup. “I didn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Her eyes flashed. “Do you understand how insane this is? Yesterday my biggest problem was rent. Now my best friend has been kidnapped, Rosie owes money to criminals, your brother wants to use me as bait, and you got stabbed because I broke a light bulb in a murder warehouse.”
“It was effective.”
“That’s what you took from that?”
“It saved Sarah.”
Emma looked away.
Dominic softened his voice. “You saved Sarah.”
Her face crumpled for half a second before she forced it steady.
“I was scared,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. Men like you call fear strategy and put it in a suit. I was scared like a normal person. Like someone who still has to open a diner tomorrow and smile at people who complain about toast.”
Dominic was silent.
Then he said, “I am scared every day.”
Emma looked back at him.
He had not meant to say it.
The words had escaped before he could chain them.
“Of what?” she asked.
He stared at the white clinic wall.
“Losing what little I have left.”
For once, she did not answer with sarcasm.
The door opened.
A woman entered with a cane and a guarded expression. She was beautiful in a delicate, damaged way, with dark hair pulled back and burn scars climbing one side of her neck like pale vines.
Dominic straightened despite the pain.
“Elena.”
His sister looked at him, then at Emma. “So this is the waitress.”
Emma stood. “Emma Reed.”
“Elena Vale.” Her eyes moved over Emma’s bruise. “You caused a lot of noise.”
“Not intentionally.”
“That’s what Dominic says when he starts wars.”
Dominic sighed. “Elena.”
She ignored him and looked at Emma again. “Thank you for pulling him out.”
“He fell. I caught his head.”
“That counts.”
Elena approached the bed. Her expression hardened when she saw the bandage at his side. “Adrian?”
Dominic nodded.
Her hand tightened around the cane.
Emma saw fear there. Old fear. Family fear. The kind that never completely left.
“He’ll come after her again,” Elena said.
“I know.”
Emma folded her arms. “Her is standing right here.”
Elena’s mouth twitched. “I like her.”
Dominic closed his eyes briefly. “Of course you do.”
Elena turned serious. “Moretti met with Adrian two nights ago. I heard it from Luca.”
Dominic’s face went still. “Where?”
“The old club on Wabash.”
“That club is neutral.”
“Not anymore.”
Emma looked between them. “Can someone translate the crime-family weather report?”
Elena faced her. “Moretti wants Rosie’s block. Adrian wants Dominic weak. They’re joining forces. You embarrassed Adrian tonight. That makes you valuable.”
“Great,” Emma said. “I always wanted to be valuable in the worst possible context.”
Elena stepped closer. “Leave Chicago for a while.”
“No.”
Dominic opened his eyes. “Emma.”
“No,” she repeated. “I am tired of everyone deciding my life in rooms I didn’t enter. I left college for my mother. I took double shifts because bills don’t care about grief. I stayed quiet every time someone treated me like I was disposable because I needed the job, the tips, the peace. I’m done being moved around by people with money and guns.”
Elena watched her carefully.
Dominic’s voice was low. “This is not pride. This is danger.”
Emma looked at him. “Then teach me how to survive it.”
Dominic stared.
May you like
Elena laughed softly.
“Oh,” she said to her brother. “You are in so much trouble.”
