Page 13 of Twisted Obsession

He helps me to my feet, steadying me as I sway. The adrenaline is long gone, leaving me shaky and sore. Dominic shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, providing an extra layer of protection.

"Can you walk?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

I nod, though I'm not entirely sure. Everything hurts, and my head is spinning. But I’m happy to be leaving this place.

Dominic wraps an arm around my waist, supporting most of my weight as we exit the room.

We make our way through a maze of corridors, though Dominic clearly knows exactly where he's going. If my head wasn’t such a mess, I’d try and make sense of where I am, in case it’s helpful later on, but as it is, every shadow makes me flinch, and I’m expecting the Viper to leap out at any moment. But we encounter no one.

“I’m taking you somewhere he won’t find you,” Dominic reassures me. Or tries to. I want to beg him to take me home, but as much as he’s helped me, I know that won’t happen. It’s clear there’s a deep fracture in La Cosa Nostra, and that’s the kind of knowledge that’s dangerous to the outside world. Even more dangerous in the hands of an opposing faction, like the Irish Mob.

“Away from this compound?” I still ask the question, a sliver of vain hope igniting, even though I know in my gut it’s useless.

Dominic throws me a wry look. “I’m afraid that’s beyond my remit, but I’ll find you a room he won’t get access to.”

I’m not sure how likely that is. As consigliere, Vito Rossi must surely have access to the entire compound, and I don’t doubt he has men loyal enough to disclose my whereabouts. But I simply nod my acceptance. It’s all I’m capable of right now.

Whatever Dominic’s motivation for protecting me, it will never stretch towards freedom. I know too much, and that makes me a liability.

It’s all too much to contemplate right now, so I’ll settle for a modicum of safety, since I know it’s the best I can hope for.

We finally reach a small, nondescript door at the end of a long hallway. Dominic pulls out a key and unlocks it, ushering me inside quickly. The room is sparse but clean, with a simple bed, a couch, and an attached bathroom. It's a far cry from the opulent cell I was in before, but somehow it feels safer.

"This is one of the rooms reserved for domestic staff," Dominic explains as he helps me sit on the bed. "Vito doesn't have access here, and I'll make sure it stays that way."

I nod gratefully, too exhausted to speak. Dominic disappears into the bathroom and returns with a damp cloth and a first aid kit. He kneels in front of me, gently cleaning the cuts and bruises on my face.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes filled with regret. "I honestly believed Vito would heed Mika’s warnings. I should have known better after…" He trails off as if realizing he was about to reveal more than he should.

"It's not your fault," I reply, wincing as he dabs at a particularly tender spot. "You can't be everywhere at once."

Dominic's jaw clenches. "No, but I can make damn sure it doesn't happen again."

“Not short of killing him,” I murmur with a hint of sarcasm, despite everything.

“That could be arranged,” he mutters so quietly I wonder if I actually heard him right.

Did Dominic Romano really just condone the murder of his boss, the consigliere, and one of the most powerful figures in La Cosa Nostra? Or did the Viper hit me harder than I thought?

Chapter

Seven

DOMINIC

Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. But looking at the state Roisin is in has me seeing red. I try to convince myself I’d feel the same about any woman in the same position. Certainly, Mika has been trying to drag the organization—kicking and screaming, mostly—into the twenty-first century. The guy is on some kind of crusade against the exploitation and oppression of women, even going so far as to suggest they could play a bigger part within our operations. He’s done what he can to engender that too, although there’s still a lot of ‘old school’ dissent.

But we’re definitely heading towards a new era under Mika’s control… if we manage to get there without the entire establishment imploding in the process.

Roisin gives me a dumbstruck look, and I hope it’s because of what she’s been through and not what I said. Whatever the state of affairs behind closed doors, LCN needs to be a united frontto the outside world. Especially the world of organized crime, where any perceived weakness will likely mean annihilation.

Shaking my head, to ward off my wayward thoughts, I turn to a trembling Roisin.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” I say, changing the subject.

“Janey Mack, that sounds heavenly,” she replies, thankfully going with it instead of calling me out on my comment. There’s a residual fear and confusion about her, and I know she’s about to have an adrenaline crash, so maybe she didn’t hear my incautious words.

I lead Roisin to the bathroom, my hand hovering near her elbow in case she stumbles. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, and I can see the tremors running through her body. The adrenaline crash is coming fast.

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