Page 35 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

A sharp knock on the door.

“Isabella.”

Charles’ voice, clipped and annoyed. “We need to talk. Now.”

The world jerks back into focus and I freeze. So does Dominic.

Our breaths are still ragged, our bodies still too close, too warm, too wanting.

His fingers flex against my waist, as if debating pulling me back in.

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, flicker to my lips before he exhales sharply.

“Fucking timing,” he mutters under his breath.

I press a trembling hand to my lips, still swollen from his kiss. My heart is pounding, my skin is burning.

I’m still aching.

Dominic looks up at me, his frustration evident. His wound, his exhaustion, the interruption—it’s all fighting against whatever just happened between us.

But it did happen. And we both know it.

Another knock, harder this time.

Dominic sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “You better go before Charles breaks down the damn door.”

I pause. For just a second.

Because I already want more.

But then I step back, forcing myself to breathe.

I reach for the doorknob, but before I turn it, Dominic’s voice stops me.

“Izzy.”

I glance over my shoulder. Izzy. He’s never called me that before, but I love it.

His gaze is still locked on me, dark and hardened.

“This isn’t over.”

My pulse skips, heat flares, and I hate how much I want that to be true.

Chapter 12 - Dominic

The storm outside rages against the city, rain slamming against the windows in an unrelenting downpour. The steady patter is a welcome distraction, a buffer against the soundless void of my study, one that has stretched thin over the past week, woven with unanswered questions and simmering rage.

A single desk lamp shines over the scattered papers, maps, and photographs before me. They are the remnants of what should have been a well-executed plan, a clear path toward reclaiming what was mine. Instead, blood stained that path, and now I sit here, trapped in the aftermath of an ambush.

I inhale slowly, surrounded by the scent of leather and whiskey. My body has healed—physically, at least. The bullet wound, stitched and bandaged, is little more than a dull ache now. But the real wound, the one gnawing at my mind, isn’t something a doctor can fix.

There’s a leak in my house. Someone has been feeding the Delgado’s information. Someone inside my crew fed the Delgados information—a betrayal buried deep within my own ranks. And until I uncover who it is, I can’t trust anyone. Adrian must have warned Samuel about us joining them at the pier but there’s no way they could’ve known our exact positions. True, they were attacking everyone, but Isabella was especially targeted. This just means one thing; someone told them what she means to me. There are too many people at this house but I have leverage over everyone – they know I won’t hesitate to kill them. Or worse – kill their loved ones.

But this just means one thing – Isabella is in danger.

That thought alone is dangerous. She wasn’t supposed to matter. But she does.

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