Page 80 of Savage Don's Captive

“Dominic, no one’s dying.” I squeeze his hand, needing to reassure him as much as myself. “I’m okay.”

“Gabriella said otherwise when you were first brought in.” His jaw clenches, a muscle working beneath the skin.

“Don’t ever do that to me again. Do you hear me?” His fingers drum against the metal railing of my bed, betraying his restless energy.

“Okay.” I roll my eyes, wincing at how it aggravates my headache. “Next time there’s an explosion in a church—the one you dragged me to, by the way—I’ll be sure to dodge it.”

“Good.” His shoulders relax slightly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Because being on edge like that isn’t what I signed up for.”

“You didn’t sign up for any of this.”

I exhale a soft laugh, but a sudden, searing pain shoots through my abdomen, cutting it short. It feels like someone’s taken a hot poker to my insides.

“Fuck,” Dominic mutters, his face darkening as he leans closer. “Are you okay? I’m going to get Gab—”

“No!” I grab his wrist, my grip surprisingly strong despite my weakness. “Don’t leave me.”

It’s pathetic, this weakness. But right now, he doesn’t feel like my enemy. He feels like something solid when everything else is slipping away.

“I haven’t been honest with you.”

“You think I have?” I arch an eyebrow, challenging him.

“I want to, though.” His fingers intertwine with mine. “I want to tell you everything. The Commission, the bombing. Fuck! I—I don’t know what we are, but whatever it is, the Commission isn’t going to like it.”

“And what is that?” My pulse quickens, the monitor beside me betraying my reaction. “What are we, Dominic?”

“Hell if I know.” He runs his free hand through his hair, disheveling it further. “But I don’t want you to get hurt, Alessa. I don’t want the Commission touching you. I don’t want to be the person to drag you into all this shit.”

I’ve never seen him look so... human. So vulnerable.

The words hang between us, heavy and jagged. This man—this dangerous, violent man who kidnapped me, threatened me, turned my entire life upside down—carried me through fire and chaos just to make sure I survived.

“Why?” I ask, needing to hear it. Whateveritis.

He looks away, jaw tight, throat working. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Alessandra.”

“What if I do?”

His gaze snaps back to mine, dark and intense. “Then you’re even crazier than I thought.”

“I still haven’t forgiven you,” I whisper. “For any of it.”

His hand finds mine again, our fingers locking before I can pull away. And the worst part? I don’twantto pull away. His touch grounds me. Makes the pain shrink just enough to breathe.

I should hate him. God knows I have every reason. He stole my freedom, threatened my father, dragged me back into the very world I’d spent my life running from. But lying here, seeing the barely contained anguish in his eyes, feels so confusing.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I want to argue, to push him away, to remind us both that he’s my enemy, not my damn protector. But exhaustion pulls at me, and his hand’s warm in mine, and for just this moment, I let myself believe the lie that I’m safe with him.

Tomorrow, I’ll remember who we are to each other. Tonight, I’ll take comfort where I can find it, even from the devil himself.

“I’m already in this shit with or without you, Dominic. I swear it’s a curse I carry because of who my mother was and whatmy father’s become.” I search his face, watching him gather his courage. “I overheard you say twelve people died.”

“Yeah.” His shoulders slump slightly. “Two children. Most of them from impact, some from smoke inhalation. If you had been inches away from where you were, you could’ve suffered the same fate. And I don’t know what I would have done.”

“And what does Paolo have to do with all of this?”

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