Page 116 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

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Eva

The icy air bites at my skin as Dominic pulls me deeper into the shadowed labyrinth of the warehouse. His hand grips mine like a lifeline, unyielding, determined. Every sound—every creak of rusted metal, every echo of footsteps—sends a fresh jolt of adrenaline coursing through me. My heart pounds relentlessly, matching the urgency of our movements.

“This way,” Dominic commands, his voice low but cutting through the suffocating tension like a blade.

We weave through towering crates and abandoned machinery, each step swift and deliberate. The gritty floor beneath us muffles our footfalls, but it doesn’t muffle the growing dread tightening around my chest. I glance back instinctively, the faint echoes of footsteps behind us confirming what I already know—Reyes’s men are close.

“Dominic,” I whisper, the edge of panic creeping into my voice. “We can’t just keep running. We need a plan.”

His response is immediate, his tone sharp and unyielding. “We’re not running.”

The conviction in his voice steadies me, if only for a moment. But the pounding of boots grows louder, closer, each beat driving home the danger we can’t outrun.

We turn another corner, and Dominic halts abruptly, his gaze locking onto a rusted steel door. Without hesitation, he releases my hand and grabs the handle, bracing himself. The door groans in protest, refusing to give.

“Dominic…” My voice trembles as the shadows at the far end of the aisle shift, and low voices cut through the air—sharp commands in a language I can’t place.

He curses under his breath and leans into the door with his full weight. With a screeching groan, the hinges give way, and Dominic shoves it open, pulling me inside before slamming it shut behind us.

Darkness envelops us, broken only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a cracked window. The stale air smells of dust and rust, the silence thick and heavy. Dominic’s hand finds mine again, his touch grounding me as my pulse races.

“Stay close,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

I nod, though he can’t see me, and let him lead me through the space. Overturned shelves and forgotten debris cast jaggedshadows on the walls. My mind races, trying to piece together the trap we’ve just stepped into.

“This was never about the data,” I whisper, the realization hitting me like a blow.

Dominic stops abruptly, turning to face me. Even in the dim light, the intensity in his eyes is undeniable.

“I know,” he says, his voice fierce. “But Reyes doesn’t realize he’s already lost.”

Before I can respond, a deafening crash reverberates through the room, followed by the sharp metallic clang of the door being forced open.

“Go!” Dominic hisses, his grip tightening on my hand as he pulls me forward.

The alley outside is cold and unforgiving, the air sharp against my lungs. Dominic presses me against the rough stone wall, shielding me with his body as headlights flood the narrow space. The beams cut through the dark like a spotlight, illuminating the black car screeching to a halt at the alley’s entrance.

The driver’s door opens, and Reyes steps out with the casual ease of someone who knows they’ve already won. His tailored suit is pristine, a stark contrast to the gritty surroundings, and the slow, deliberate smile on his face twists my stomach into knots.

“Dominic Kane,” Reyes drawls, spreading his arms in mock welcome. “You’ve been making this far too easy for me.”

Dominic doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. He’s a fortress, his entire being coiled and ready. “If you wanted to talk, you could have skipped the theatrics.”

Reyes’s chuckle is low, mocking. “Ah, but theatrics are what make this game worth playing. And you, Kane… you’ve been such a predictable opponent.”

His gaze shifts to me, and I feel the weight of it like a physical blow. His smile sharpens, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “And you, Miss Cross… always so tenacious. Tell me, how does it feel to be the bait in someone else’s trap?”

My fists clench at my sides, but before I can respond, Dominic steps forward, his presence a shield between Reyes and me.

“Leave her out of this,” Dominic growls, his voice deadly.

Reyes tilts his head, smirking. “Oh, but she’s already in this. She’s been in it since the beginning. Everything you do, every move you make, revolves around her. It’s… poetic, really.”

Another door opens, and a man steps out of the car—a laptop in one hand and a gun in the other. He joins Reyes, his cold, expressionless face adding to the oppressive tension.

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