Chapter Eight: The Doctor’s Hands
Dominic’s wound reopened cleanly and bled badly.
Of course it did.
He had ignored medical advice, wrestled assassins, and shielded Skylar from gunfire with fresh sutures.
A perfect patient.
For a corpse.
Skylar operated in the estate’s private clinic because moving him was too dangerous. Dr. Hayes assisted and wisely said very little.
Dominic refused full sedation.
Skylar hated him for it.
She respected him for surviving it.
“Hold still.”
“I am.”
“You are glaring.”
“That is still.”
She clamped the bleeding vessel.
His breath broke.
Only once.
Skylar noticed.
She noticed everything.
The sweat at his temples. The rigid jaw. The fingers curling against the table to avoid reaching for her.
Progress.
Maybe pain.
Maybe both.
She closed the wound in layers.
Clean.
Fast.
Angry.
When the final dressing was secured, Hayes left them alone.
Rain tapped against the clinic windows.
Dominic lay pale under the surgical light, his dark hair damp, his body finally weaker than his will.
“You saved Matteo,” he said.
“He needed saving.”
“He betrayed us.”
“He needed saving first.”
“And after?”
“After, he talks.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“You always choose the harder mercy.”
“That was not mercy.”
“No?”
“No. Death ends testimony.”
His mouth curved faintly.
There she was.
The woman he had tried to bury.
Sharper now.
Less forgiving.
More alive.
Skylar washed her hands at the sink. Blood spiraled down the drain.
Hers.
His.
Matteo’s.
Bianca’s.
Too much blood for one ballroom.
“You watched me suffer,” she said.
Dominic opened his eyes.
“Yes.”
She dried her hands slowly.
“You watched my father get weaker.”
“Yes.”
“You could have sent help.”
“I tried.”
“Quietly.”
“Yes.”
“So I could not trace it.”
“Yes.”
“So I could not reject it.”
His silence answered.
Skylar turned.
“That is control.”
“I know.”
“Not love.”
“I know.”
The words were too easy.
She wanted him to fight.
He did not.
That made the room heavier.
“Say why.”
His throat moved.
“Because I was afraid.”
Skylar looked at him.
“Of Lorenzo?”
“Of what I would do.”
The rain grew louder.
“If you had asked me to choose, I would have chosen you.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“It is not.”
“No.”
Dominic stared at the ceiling.
“I would have burned innocent people for you. I knew it. Lorenzo knew it. So I removed the choice before you could become the match.”
Skylar stood very still.
“You made yourself the fire.”
“Yes.”
“And me the ash.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
She walked to the table.
His hand lay open against the sheet.
Not reaching.
Waiting.
She looked at it for a long time.
Then she placed two fingers on his wrist.
Medical.
Not intimate.
A pulse check.
He accepted it like a gift.
“You are bradycardic.”
“You are cruel.”
“You are alive.”
“For now.”
“Do not make me regret that.”
His faint smile faded when alarms rang from the security console.
Hayes burst in.
“Carmela is missing.”
Dominic tried to rise.
Skylar pushed him down with one hand.
“No.”
“My mother.”
“I heard.”
“She is not safe.”
“Neither are your stitches.”
His eyes burned.
Skylar grabbed her coat.
“This time, I go first.”
He looked at her.
Not commanding.
Not stopping.
Learning hurt him visibly.
Good.
Skylar ran before either of them could ruin it.
