I say nothing.
Because he’s looking for confirmation. Or denial. And I don’t feel like giving him either.
Instead, I say, “Is that why you’re here? To deliver vague compliments and fish for names?”
“I’m here because I thought you might need a drink and a little context.”
“Context for what?”
“For how close you’re flying to the center of things now.”
Dom straightens.
He’s smiling, but not like before. This one has less charm. More weight.
“You’re visible, Lydia. That’s what happens when you stop being an ornament and start being an asset. You start showing up on people’s lists.”
“What kind of lists?”
“The kind you don’t get taken off of.”
I move to the counter. Pick up the bottle. It’s already warm from where he held it too long. I don’t bother with a glass.
Dom watches me drink, then tilts his head.
"You did good tonight," he says. "Too good. Drazen's not just impressed. He's… considering."
"Considering what?"
He shrugs. "How to make sure you don't go anywhere."
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and set the bottle down harder than I mean to.
"I'm already here. What more does he want?"
"You already are," he says quietly. "And the question isn't whether you want to go anywhere. It's whether he'll let you."
I walk past him. Toward the window. My eyes scan the rooftop across the street, empty now. No silhouette. No shadow.
Dom speaks again, quieter this time.
“There’s a difference between being useful and being owned. Just… remember that.”
I turn to look at him.
His smirk is gone.
He opens the door without waiting for a goodbye.
And just before he closes it behind him, he says:
“He saw you.”
Then the door clicks shut.
He saw you.
Dom’s parting words echo even after the door shuts.