Page 130 of The Beautiful Dead

“Welcome to my home.” His voice was smooth, practiced. “Please, just leave this one standing.”

Domino growled low in his throat, the sound more animal than man. “If you hadn’t done what you did to us, we wouldn’t have had to.”

Salvatore sighed, brushing the nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “I apologize for the way Enzo handled everything. We didn’t know how... amenable you’d be.”

Domino arched a brow, his grip tightening around my waist as he pulled me into his side. Possessive. Territorial. I didn’t hate it. I fucking loved it.

“You could have asked to speak with me directly.” His words cut through the air, sharp and crackling like ice.

A quiet, rueful chuckle slipped past Salvatore’s lips. “I did. I sent many men to talk to you, but?—”

“No.” Domino’s voice snapped like a whip, slicing through whatever excuse Salvatore had prepared. “You or one of your sons sent men to disturb our business. They never tried anything other than to kill me or...” He shook his head, cutting himself off.

Silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Salvatore exhaled through his nose. “It’s all water under the bridge now. Even the house that’s still smoldering.” His tone was light, as if we weren’t discussing destruction and death. “I was on my way over to talk to you, but I guess locking you in a room wasn’t the right way to go about it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Domino gritted out.

Salvatore gestured to the man beside him. “This is Alessio. He’ll be looking after us today. If you hand him your helmets and keys, he’ll see to your bike.” His gaze flickered to the sleek black machine, something like admiration flashing across his face. “She’s a beauty.”

Domino smirked. “That she is.”

We handed everything to Alessio and followed Salvatore inside, weaving through a bright hallway, a bustling kitchen, and out onto a sprawling terrace. The scent of freshly cut grass and expensive cologne clung to the air.

Seated around a large wooden table were Enzo, Luca, Diego, and Elio.

All conversation died the moment they saw us. Four pairs of eyes locked onto Domino, sizing him up like predators assessing a rival in their territory. They barely spared me a glance, their focus singular, as if I were nothing more than a shadow in Domino’s wake.

That was a mistake. I felt the smirk tug at my lips. I couldn’t wait to show them exactly what I was capable of.

Salvatore took his seat at the head of the table, motioning for us to sit. Domino didn’t move, his presence a solid wall of defiance.

He sighed. “Sit, Domino. We’re not your enemies.”

Domino held his stare for a beat longer before pulling out a chair and dropping into it. I slid in beside him, resting my arms on the table, fingers laced together.

The tension coiled tighter.

It was Luca who broke the silence. “So, why the hell are we all here?”

Salvatore leaned forward, elbows braced against the table. “Because there are things you all need to know.” His gaze swept over his sons before settling on Domino. “And because Domino has a proposition.”

Domino’s fingers tapped against the tabletop, measured and patient. “Before that, let’s clear the air.” His tone was flat, unreadable. “You wanted me dead. Then you didn’t. Then you locked me in a fucking room. What changed?”

Salvatore exhaled through his nose. “It’s time you know the truth about Catalina and me.”

The name hit like a bullet. Domino’s spine snapped straight, and tension coiled in his muscles. Latent power waiting to be unleashed. I slipped my hand onto his thigh and squeezed, a small act of comfort. A reminder he wasn’t alone in this.

Never again.

A shift rippled through the table. Diego’s jaw clenched, Enzo went utterly still, and Elio arched a single brow, curiosity flickering in his gaze.

Luca, however, laughed under his breath. “Christ. This should be good.”

Salvatore met their stares head-on. “Catalina wasmine.”

The words rang like a death knell, a finality that sent a shiver through the air. Unshakable. Irrefutable.

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