Chapter Seven: The Safe House With No Doors
They moved Dominic and Nico before dawn.
Not discharged.
Moved.
Dominic called it a medical relocation.
Elena called it kidnapping with better furniture.
The safe house sat outside the city behind iron gates and winter trees.
A private clinic occupied the east wing.
A fortress wore the mask of a home.
Elena arrived in an ambulance beside Nico, one hand monitoring his pulse.
Dominic arrived in another vehicle because she refused to let him sit upright.
He complained once.
She sedated him.
The staff learned quickly.
By noon, Nico had a room with blue walls, a heart monitor, and a shelf full of books he had not chosen.
He hated that.
“I don’t like new books.”
Elena adjusted his blanket.
“Why?”
“They don’t know me.”
She looked at Bruno.
“Bruno can introduce them.”
Nico considered this.
“Maybe.”
Dominic watched from the doorway.
Pale.
Bandaged.
Silent.
Nico saw him.
“Papa.”
Dominic entered slowly.
Elena stood ready.
Not for danger.
For collapse.
Nico pointed at his IV.
“She stabbed me.”
Dominic looked at Elena.
“She does that.”
“For money?”
“For justice.”
Nico frowned.
“That is worse.”
Elena’s mouth betrayed her.
Dominic saw the smile.
Something soft moved through his expression.
She looked away first.
“Ten minutes.”
Dominic sat beside the bed.
Nico touched the bandage beneath his ribs.
“You got hurt too.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
Dominic’s answer was instant.
Absolute.
Nico studied him.
“Because of her?”
Dominic did not look at Elena.
“Yes.”
Elena’s hand stilled on the chart.
Nico looked between them.
“Did you do something bad?”
Dominic breathed carefully.
“Yes.”
“To her?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Nico hugged Bruno.
“You should say sorry.”
Dominic’s mouth tightened.
“I have.”
Nico frowned harder.
“Did she believe you?”
Dominic finally looked at Elena.
“No.”
Nico nodded with grave wisdom.
“Then say it better.”
Elena left the room before her face could change.
In the hall, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
A child had asked the cleanest question.
Could sorrow count if it came too late?
Behind her, Dominic spoke softly to Nico.
She did not listen.
She listened.
“Your doctor is very brave.”
“She is bossy.”
“She had to become that.”
“Why?”
A long silence.
“Because I was not there.”
Elena opened her eyes.
The hallway blurred.
She pressed her scarred palm flat against the cold wall.
Not crying.
Never crying where men could find meaning.
A door opened behind her.
Dominic stepped out.
He should not have been walking.
His skin had gone gray.
“You have seven seconds before I call a nurse.”
“I needed to say it.”
“Say it sitting.”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
“Fine. Collapse dramatically.”
His mouth twitched.
Then pain cut the humor away.
“I read your thesis.”
Elena blinked.
“What?”
“Pediatric trauma outcomes after delayed intervention.”
Her throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because your name was on it.”
“Dominic.”
“I kept everything.”
She hated that her chest hurt.
“I kept your articles. Your interviews. The program from your first lecture.”
“You should have called.”
“Yes.”
“You should have come.”
“Yes.”
“You should have trusted me.”
His eyes lifted.
There was no defense in them.
“Yes.”
That word broke something clean.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But the lie that he would argue.
Elena stepped closer.
“You do not get to suffer beautifully and call it love.”
“I know.”
“You do not get me back because you bled.”
“I know.”
“You do not get absolution because Matteo was a monster.”
His voice lowered.
“I know.”
She wanted rage.
He gave her agreement.
It left her with nowhere to put the knife.
Dominic swayed.
Elena caught his arm.
His body leaned into hers.
Heavy.
Hot.
Mortal.
His mouth brushed her hair by accident.
Both went still.
Then the alarm system screamed.
Red lights flashed along the corridor.
A guard shouted from downstairs.
“Gate breach.”
Dominic straightened despite the pain.
Elena reached for Nico’s door.
But it opened before she touched it.
Nico stood there barefoot again.
Behind him, the window cracked in a spiderweb.
A red laser dot trembled over his chest.
