15. Dominic

CHAPTER 15

Dominic

O ne day, sweetie, you’ll find a girl you’ll really like. And then you’ll fall in love with her. It’ll be the scariest thing you’ve ever done. But it’ll also make you happier than you can imagine.

My mom said those words to me when I was, I think, eight years old. Two years before they all died. I think the only reason they stayed with me for so long is because I was so sure I would prove her wrong. I didn’t think I had in me to feel that degree of affection toward another person. Especially after all the pain I’ve had to experience. But Madelyn’s proving me wrong.

It would be so easy to fall in love with her. But I’m being held back. Because I know without a doubt that losing her is inevitable.

She’s in my arms when I wake up the next morning, and it feels good enough that I never want it to end. It’s about six o’clock when I slowly climb out of bed, careful not to wake her. She stirs a little, moving in search of my warmth, but grows stiller once I throw a blanket over her.

I watch her like a creep for a couple of seconds before leaving the room. I never start any day without surveillance, checking in on members of the mafia and potential trouble. This morning, everything looks good on all fronts. With confirmation that nothing’s amiss, I step out of the room.

When I walk out of the door, I find Madelyn awake and standing at the end of the hallway. Her eyes brighten when she sees me. I subtly step away from my surveillance room, shutting the door behind me.

“Hey,” she says, smiling, as she walks over to me. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Morning, baby. Did you sleep well?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah, I did. What’s in there?” she questions curiously.

I subtly clench my jaw. “Nothing, it’s just my office. I was trying to make up for the work we missed yesterday.”

“Oh, right. About work. I forgot to tell you. I managed to recover enough of Torres’s footage. We can narrow down where his hiding spot is now,” she says excitedly.

I smile. “That’s really good, Flowers. You can tell me all about it on the way to work. But first, how about you go take a shower and I’ll make us some breakfast.”

She nods in agreement. “Hey, could you take me to my house so I can get a change of clothes?”

“Sure.”

She leaves and I let out a breath of relief. I’m not worried about her going into the room since it has a biometric unlock, but if she’s going to be spending more time in this house, she’s going to start wondering why a simple home office needs such an elaborate security system.

One problem at a time, though.

An hour and a half later, we’re both ready to go. On the drive to her house, I can’t help but notice the glinting silver hanging around her neck.

“You put on the cross this morning,” I decide to mention, fishing for more information about it.

She took it off the night she got to my house. And I’ve noticed she doesn’t wear it often. Some days she comes to work with it, some days without it.

“Oh, yeah,” Madelyn murmurs, her hand trailing over to touch it around her neck. “It was my mom’s. She was a devout Catholic. She grew up in a hyper-religious Mexican home. I think she’d be sad to know that I barely go to church anymore. Religion has just never provided me with any peace.”

I get what she’s trying to say. My family was never inherently religious, but after they died, I spent so many nights praying to God or whoever would hear me, wishing it was all just a dream and that they would come back. Then I would pray for the pain to go away. Still, nothing worked. It didn’t help.

“I wear the cross on the days I miss her the most,” Madelyn explains. “With Christmas coming, her absence in my life hurts more. My mom loved Christmas. That’s why it’s so special to me. We didn’t have much when I was growing up, but she always made sure to go all out for the holidays. She blasted Christmas music non-stop throughout December. She’d always buy a tree that we’d decorate together and cook up a feast on Christmas Day. It was just the two of us, but it was so much fun.”

“I’m sure she’s happy watching you wherever she is. Especially since you became such a Christmas-crazed weirdo,” I tease, trying to make her brighten up a little.

It works because she ends up laughing at that.

“Yeah, definitely. I know Mama’s proud of me.”

I’m about to ask her exactly how she died, but she gets a text that makes her giggle. I arch an eyebrow when she looks up at me.

“What?”

“We might have to make one more pit stop before we go in for work. It’s your day to get the team donuts,” she informs me.

My lips immediately pull down in a frown. “I don’t even eat that shit and yet I have to feed it to a dozen people I barely like?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And don’t talk bad about our coworkers,” she scolds.

“I didn’t. I said I didn’t like them,” I correct.

“Still. You’ve been working with them for weeks and you haven’t made an effort to socialize or be friendly with any of them.”

“That’s because my position at the office is temporary. Soon enough, I’ll disappear from all their lives. What’s the point of getting to know them?”

She falls silent at that, looking down at her phone with an awkward expression on her face.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Flowers,” I tell her, figuring it’s why her mood changed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She huffs out an annoyed breath, although it’s impossible to hide her small smile. “Who says I want that?”

You know you do, baby.

After completing our morning tasks, complete with a box of donuts and a large cup of coffee for her. I protested her getting it, but she countered that she was having withdrawals and ignored me. We head into the office a little late but just in time for the meeting.

On the way into the break room, I pull her aside.

“Don’t mention anything about Torres at the meeting,” I tell her.

Her brows furrow. “What? Why not?”

“You can tell Joshua when he’s alone, but telling everyone could be dangerous. We’ve got a real shot at getting him, and your efforts could end up being wasted if somehow there’s been a mole planted somewhere in the FBI.”

She turns my words over for a couple of seconds before sighing. “Yeah, I understand. No problem.”

The two of us go over to tell Joshua together after the meeting is over.

“I’ll put together a small team and we’ll move out in a couple of hours,” he states once we’re done relaying the information.

“I’ll come along,” I offer, and Joshua nods gratefully.

Meanwhile, Madelyn’s eyebrows rise, “What? No. You’re an intelligence analyst, not a field agent. What if you get hurt?”

Joshua, the dickhead, is unable to hide a snicker at the concern in her tone.

“I’ll be fine, Flowers,” I tell her. “But it’s nice to know you care so much.”

“Do you even have combat experience? Shooting experience?”

I can tell this entire conversation is very amusing to my best friend, who knows firsthand just how much experience I have. But I need to be on the mission to make sure that if we really do find Torres’s hideout, I can ensure it’s wiped clean of anything incriminating that could lead to the Cosa Nostra.

“I promise I’ll be fine,” I say again.

Eventually, she’ll find out the truth. And I know without a doubt she’s going to hate me for it when she does.

The air feels sharp as we step out of the surveillance van into the dimly lit alley. I’ve got my FBI-issued sidearm strapped to my hip. The small team of agents, totaling five, are already assembling, checking their weapons and gear. The entire thing feels foreign. I’m using to working alone, preferring the precision and control that comes with only having to rely on myself. This feels completely wrong.

Joshua adjusts his tactical vest beside me. “Last chance to back out. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” he teases.

I shoot him a glare. “Nah, someone has to make sure you don’t screw this up,” I reply flatly, earning a snort.

The both of us become sober pretty quickly, though, with the mission on our minds. If Torres really is down here, hiding in an underground lair like a rat, then this ends tonight. Through my earpiece, I can hear Madelyn’s voice. Calm, professional, but with the usual warmth beneath it. She’s back at the office, performing surveillance through the cameras.

“The entrance should be at the east corner, hidden behind a stack of pallets,” Madelyn informs us. “Be careful, guys. There’s limited visibility down there.”

“You got it, Mads.”

I scowl as I look at the owner of the voice. Kenneth fucking Pratt, because of course Joshua decided he would be a part of the team. I can’t get rid of the asshole no matter how hard I try. He smirks when he notices my eyes on him and I fight the immature urge to flip him off.

I can’t stand the guy.

Joshua leads the team forward and we slip into the shadows, making our way to the hidden door. One of the agents pulls the pallets aside, revealing a steel door with an electronic keypad. It doesn’t seem all that complicated. I could probably hack into it in less than a minute. But since I’m here, we’ve got to depend on our other intelligence analyst.

“Flowers,” I call in a low tone.

“Already on it. I’m in the system now,” Madelyn says through the comms, her tone bright despite the tension. “Just give me a sec… And there! It’s unlocked.”

The door creaks open, revealing a dark stairwell leading downward. The smell of damp concrete and stale air hits me immediately. The team spreads out, sweeping the area. Joshua and I push forward, eventually reaching a place that looks like an office at the end of the hall.

Through glass panels, I can see the glow of monitors and the outline of a man hunched over, his movements in a rush as he works to erase something on the computers.

“Torres,” Joshua mutters, signaling to the others to hold their positions.

He’s alone. Joshua and I share a nod before we move quietly toward the door. On my count, we burst in, weapons drawn. Torres jumps to his feet, panic flashing in his eyes as he looks between us.

He’s shorter than I expected, with a wiry frame and sharp, angular features. His face is gaunt, as if he hasn’t slept in days, and his skin has the sallow hue of someone who’s spent too much time underground. His greasy dark hair clings to his forehead, and a faint scar runs along his jawline, barely visible under the dim light. The veins in his neck pulse as he glares at us, eyes darting around like a cornered animal.

“Hands where I can see them,” Joshua barks.

But Torres isn’t looking at him. His eyes lock onto me, narrowing as recognition dawns.

“Shadow,” he spits, the word venomous and sharp.

My grip on the weapon tightens, but my face stays blank.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” I ask coldly, although my mind is starting to race.

“You’re the shadow,” Torres repeats, his tone more sure.

Before I can process further, my gaze shifts to the room itself. The tech is… impressive. State-of-the-art equipment, the kind of setup most hackers would kill for. Multiple screens display scrolling data, encryption patterns, and what looks like live surveillance feeds.

But it’s all wrong. Torres doesn’t have the skills to run this.

Joshua moves, knocking Torres out with a swift blow before he can say another word. But I’m not watching. My focus is on the equipment and what it means. Someone else is involved.

The hacker.

I knew there was someone helping Torres evade us. The same hacker who doctored that footage in the first place. I knew they had to be talented, but this is next level. I step closer to one of the screens, scanning the displayed data. Whoever this is, they’re dangerous. Organized. And very, very good.

Joshua pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Dominic, you good?”

I force my attention back to the present, nodding stiffly.

“How the hell does he know who you are?” Joshua grits out.

Through the comms, Madelyn’s voice crackles.

“Did you get him? Is Torres in custody?” she asks.

Joshua glances at me, then responds. “Yeah, we got him.”

“Is Dominic okay?”

I can hear the concern in her voice, which prompts me to speak. “Yeah, I’m good, Flowers.”

The rest of the agents burst into the room. I stay silent, watching as they drag Torres out of the room. My chest tightens with unease.

Shadow.

Whoever the hacker is, they don’t only know who I am. It’s possible they also know my true identity. And if they’re good enough to have that information, there’s no telling how far they’re willing to go with it—and what else he or she could possibly know.

My jaw tightens as I look around the room. First things first, I need to take care of Torres.

If he recognized me, then there’s no way he can be allowed to live. As soon as we step outside, I’m about to send a text to Nicholas. I receive a text instead.

Unknown Number: Don’t worry, Dominic. Torres won’t say a thing about you to the Feds.

My jaw tightens.

Me: Who the hell are you?

Unknown Number: An old friend of yours. The one you think about every night before you go to sleep.

My brows furrow. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that whoever this is, it’s the hacker that was helping Torres. But I have no clue what he means by his being an old friend.

Me: Sounds a little obsessive. Not my style.

Unknown Number: I’m pretty sure Madelyn would disagree on that. I’m her old friend as well.

My grip around the phone tightens and rage pulses through me at the fact that he even thought to mention her. Even worse, it seems he’s been watching us. I don’t send anything more; I just wait for what else he has to say.

Unknown Number: It’s funny how the two of you found each other. Amusing what fate can do. It made my work so much easier. You led me right to her, Dominic.

Me: If you go near her, if you touch even a single strand on her head, I’ll murder you.

Unknown Number: You’ll have to find me first, won’t you? But don’t worry. I’m going to be kind and leave you a hint. I’ve left you several hints, actually, but let’s see if you’re smart enough to figure it all out. This is the last one. My name is Specter. Catch me if you can, Dominic. Because if you don’t, Madelyn will pay the price.

I send another text warning him to stay away, but it doesn’t deliver. When I try the number, the call doesn’t connect. I let out a soft growl. There’s trouble on the horizon.

My mind whirs as I go over the conversation, trying to figure out what he meant. The asshole was practically talking in riddles, but every word leaves me with an uneasy feeling in my chest.

What the hell did he mean, Madelyn and I found each other?

I found her. Fate had nothing to do with it.

But something keeps tugging at my chest. Lines I never even considered begin connecting in my mind, and it suddenly dawns on me that my connection with Madelyn may be much deeper than I realized.