Chapter 77 One night
Dominic exhaled slowly. “Tomorrow, then. I will arrange it.”
Damien nodded once.
“Good.”
Raymond sobbed behind them, unaware that his life had just been spared by a woman who wasn’t even there. Dominic watched Damien for a long moment after his nod.
The room had settled into a strange quiet. Raymond’s sobs had dwindled into weak, broken breaths behind them. The blue lights above flickered once, casting long shadows over the concrete walls and the velvet chair that still looked painfully out of place in the decaying factory.
Dominic picked up his glass of whiskey and took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact with Damien.
“You have changed,” Dominic said at last. “Once, you would not have hesitated.”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “Once, I had nothing to lose.”
Dominic gave a low hum of amusement. “And now?”
“Now I have everything,” Damien replied.
Dominic’s lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. He set the glass down on the small table beside his chair and stood. The movement was unhurried, but it carried weight.
Power.
The kind of presence that filled a room without effort.
“Well,” Dominic said, spreading his hands slightly, “since I have fulfilled my part of the favor, and since you have chosen mercy over blood, I believe it is time we speak of business.”
Damien remained still. Alert.
“I will be leaving tomorrow,” Damien said. “After I speak with your police contacts.”
Dominic’s expression did not change, but something in his eyes sharpened.
“No,” he said calmly.
Damien frowned. “No?”
Dominic stepped closer, his voice lowering. “You will not leave tomorrow.”
Damien’s shoulders squared. “My wife is waiting for me.”
“And my clubs are waiting for you,” Dominic countered. “You are in Los Angeles, cousin. On my ground. You do not come here, take what you need, and disappear without honoring me.”
Damien exhaled slowly. “I did not come for pleasure.”
Dominic’s gaze hardened. “This is not pleasure. This is family business.”
Damien studied him carefully. “What are you saying?”
“I am inviting you to one of my clubs tomorrow night,” Dominic said. “You will see how I run things here. You will sit beside me. You will remind this city that the Blackwood bloodline is still united.”
Damien’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I told you, I am leaving tomorrow.”
Dominic’s voice dropped, cold and final.
“It is not a request.”
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Raymond whimpered softly from behind them.
Gustavo shifted near the door.
Marco’s hand hovered close to his jacket. Damien felt the weight of Dominic’s authority settle over him. This was not about celebration. This was about control. About reminding him that favors had consequences. About pulling him back, if only for one night, into the world he was trying so desperately to keep away from Jasmine.
Damien looked away for a moment, staring at the stained concrete floor.
He thought of her again.
Her voice on the phone.
Her small smile.
Her arms around his neck.
I love you, tesoro.
The words he had sent her echoed in his mind.
“I cannot stay long,” Damien said quietly. “One night.”
Dominic’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile. “Good.”
Damien lifted his eyes back to him. “I will leave the day after.”
Dominic nodded once. “That is acceptable.”
Damien did not return the smile.
“I will speak to your police men tomorrow,” Damien continued. “Then I will go to this club with you. After that, I am done.”
Dominic clapped his hands together softly. “You see? Compromise.”
He turned slightly toward Gustavo. “Prepare the arrangements. Tomorrow morning, the officers. Tonight, rest. Tomorrow night, the club.”
Gustavo bowed his head. “Yes, boss.”
Damien’s gaze drifted briefly to Raymond, still shaking in the chair, his face pale and hollow with fear.
“You will never see her again,” Damien said to him without emotion. “Pray that prison is kinder than I would have been.”
Raymond broke down again, sobbing into his chest.
Dominic gestured toward the exit. “Come. There is nothing more for you here tonight.”
Damien hesitated for a fraction of a second, then turned away from the bound man.
As he walked toward the door, he felt the familiar heaviness return to his chest. He wanted to be on a plane. Wanted to be back in his house. Wanted to be in his bed with Jasmine curled against him, safe and warm.
Instead, he was walking back into the night of Los Angeles, back into Dominic’s world.
Gustavo pushed open the metal door, and cold air rushed inside the safe house. The sound of distant traffic filtered in, dull and far away.
Marco fell into step beside Damien.
Neither of them spoke.
They passed through the heavy gates, the metal groaning as it closed behind them, sealing Raymond’s cries inside.
The black McLaren waited down the block, its engine already humming.
Gustavo opened the door. Damien stepped in first, followed by Marco.
As the car pulled away from the abandoned factory, Damien leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes briefly.
“One night,” he murmured to himself.
One night in Dominic’s world.
Then he would go back to her.
The car disappeared into the dark streets of Los Angeles, carrying Damien, Gustavo, and Marco away from the safe house and toward whatever waited next.
~
Jasmine sat frozen at the kitchen counter, her phone lying in her palm like it weighed a thousand pounds.
The screen glowed softly in the dim light of the room.
I love you, tesoro.
Three simple words.
Three terrifying words.
She stared at them as if they might rearrange themselves into something safer if she looked long enough. Her thumb hovered over the screen, then she locked it. Almost immediately, she unlocked it again.
The message was still there.
Waiting.
Accusing.
Her chest felt tight. Jasmine inhaled slowly, but the breath came out shaky, uneven. Her heart was beating too fast, like it was trying to outrun the thoughts spiraling through her mind.
He said it.
Damien had said it.
Out of nowhere. No warning. No conversation.
Just… love.
Her fingers curled around the phone.
Had he meant it?
Or had someone pushed him into it?
The kitchen door creaked open behind her.