Page 82 of Savage Don's Captive

“Somewhere safe. With you, with TJ—”

“No.” He crosses his arms over his chest, creating a physical barrier between us.

“Why not?” I lift my eyes to challenge him directly.

“It won’t matter. Because Raffy is a dead man walking. He messed with the wrong person. Once I get Paolo’s blessing, I’ll have his head on a plate.”

I see it then, in the cold calculation of his eyes—the man my mother saw all those years ago. The predator beneath the charm. The killer he was born to be.

And the most terrifying part? It doesn’t make me want to run.

It makes me want to stay.

Chapter twenty-four

Dominic

MyhandshoveroverAlessa’s body, afraid to touch what I nearly lost. The hospital room reeks of antiseptic, a smell I’ve gotten too familiar with over the years. Every wince on her face is like a knife between my ribs—a weakness I can’t afford to show. Twelve hours ago, she was lying unconscious in church rubble. Now she’s trying to stand on her own, stubborn as ever, while I’m fighting the urge to chain her to the damn bed until she’s healed.It should be a relief. It isn’t.Too many people I’ve given a damn about ended up in places like this and never walked out.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to matter.

“She’s not dying, is she?”

“My god, Dominic,” Alessa gasps as she slaps away my hand, her skin scorching against mine. The contact triggers that familiar hunger I’ve been battling since she opened her eyes—a weakness that could get us both killed if the Commission knew. She steadies herself, and I guide her toward the bathroom, my fingers itching to touch more than just her elbow.

Gabriella watches us with those clinical eyes of hers, dressed in lavender scrubs that do nothing to soften the steel in her spine. The stethoscope around her neck catches the fluorescent light as she shifts. She smells like hand sanitizer and bad news—the scent of every serious conversation I’ve had in a hospital.

There’s an unwritten rule between us—when she’s working, I treat her like a doctor, not someone on my payroll. In return, she tries not to kill me when I end up on her operating table. Fair trade.

“No, she’s not going to die, Dominic. I told you if the blast caused internal bleeding, she’d be at risk for an aneurysm, but I told you…she’s clear. Stop overreacting,” Gabriella rolls her eyes as she updates the chart. “Just a mild concussion, which explains the headache. The pain in her chest is from smoke inhalation, and her back hurts because she’s been lying in that bed too long.”

She was on her back the other night for hours while I buried my face between her legs and wasn’t complaining then, I think, shoving the thought aside before it shows on my face.

Not the time.

“She’s good to go,” Gabriella adds. “But you need rest, Alessa. Fluids. Food. I’ll give you something for the pain.”

“That’s it?” I press, watching Alessa’s eyes roll so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. At least her attitude survived the blast. The color’s returning to her face now that she’s eaten—a vast improvement from the ashen corpse I carried out of that church.

Exhaustion drags at me like concrete boots, the adrenaline crash finally hitting. After they brought her here, I made calls for hours—for the families of the dead, PR teams to keep this off national news, lawyers to handle the inevitable lawsuits. Twelve dead, including two kids. I’ll be paying for funerals I never wanted to attend.

Then there’s Enzo, already spinning this tragedy into political capital. “Questa è la mia opportunità, Dom,” he’d said, already seeing votes where I saw blood. Always about his mayoral campaign, his image, his fucking ambition.

Meanwhile, Matteo’s hunting Raffaele, and Luca’s helping TJ with their new assignment. My attention belongs to Alessa now. Something’s shifted in her—she’s actually listening to me, considering what I tell her. She gave me her trust, and I’m terrified of fucking it up. She trusts me to find Marco. To eliminate Raffy. She didn’t even blink when I told her my standing with the Commission.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’? You should be thankful it’s nothing worse. Will you take a fucking chill pill?” Gabriellasnaps. “Just monitor her. If the pain doesn’t stop, if she gets dizzy or vomits—anything unusual, you call me.”

“Anything unusual. Got it.”

“Good,” Gabriella nods before turning to Alessa. “Can you make sure he only calls when something’s actually wrong?”

“I can,” Alessa giggles, grabbing her ribs. She fuckinggiggles. After everything today, that sound is like hearing a weapon discharge when you thought it was empty—shocking and somehow dangerous.

I open the bathroom door for Alessa, place her smoky clothes on the counter, and shut it behind her. I make a mental note to burn those clothes later. I don’t want reminders of how close she came to being another body in my ledger.

When it’s just Gabriella and me, her professional mask slips. Her shoulders fall just enough for me to notice before she catches herself.

“Do you know where Luca is?” she asks, voice dropping.

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