Page 51 of Claimed By the Enemy
I trace my finger along his uninjured cheek, careful not to disturb the bandages. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.” Dom finally opens his eyes, wincing slightly. “But alive.”
“That’s something.”
He’s right. Yesterday could have ended very differently. If whoever attacked him had been more serious, if they’d really wanted him dead instead of just sending a message…
“I need to check on Uncle Enzo,” I say, the thought suddenly urgent.
Dom’s expression shifts, becomes more alert. “Why?”
“If someone’s targeting both our families, he could be in danger too.”
“Sophie—”
“I know what you’re thinking. That he’s the one behind this. But Dom, he raised me. Whatever else he’s done, he wouldn’t hurt me.”
Dom doesn’t argue, but I can see the skepticism in his eyes. “How will you contact him?”
“Carefully.”
I slip out of bed, pulling on Dom’s shirt from last night. It hangs almost to my knees, smelling like him and the faint metallic scent of dried blood.
“I’m coming with you,” Dom says, starting to sit up.
“No, you’re not. You’re staying in bed and recovering.”
“Sophie—”
“Dom.” I turn to face him, hands on my hips. “We agreed to work together. That means trusting each other. Do you trust me?”
He studies my face for a long moment. “Yes.”
“Then let me handle this.”
I use Patrice’s phone again, dialing Uncle Enzo’s emergency number. It rings four times before he picks up.
“Sophie.” His voice is tense, cautious. “Are you safe?”
“I’m fine. Are you? Did you and Aunt Martha get somewhere secure?”
“We’re safe. But Sophie, there are things happening.”
“What things?”
“Not over the phone. Can you meet me?”
“Uncle, Dom was attacked yesterday. Badly.”
Silence on the other end. Then: “Dom was attacked?”
“Yes. He thinks it’s connected to the letters he’s been receiving.”
“Letters?”
“Threatening letters. Someone who wants to finish what happened between our families.”
Another long pause. “Sophie, listen to me carefully. Don’t trust anyone right now. Not until we can talk face-to-face.”
