Chapter 73 Dominic Conversation

Chapter 73 Dominic Conversation


Lyra stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the harbor lights blink in patient rhythm. Ships moved like shadows across black water, cranes swinging slowly, deliberately. The city breathed beneath her in controlled, disciplined and obedient.

It didn’t roar the way wolf territory did.

Behind her, the door clicked shut.

“You asked for privacy,” Dominic said calmly. “That usually means honesty. Or danger.”

Lyra didn’t turn immediately. “Can’t it be both?”

A faint hum of amusement entered his silence. He moved across the room without hurry, setting a glass of something amber on the desk but not offering it to her. He had learned she rarely accepted anything she didn’t pour herself.

“You look tired,” he observed.

“Is that your polite way of saying I look weak?”

“No,” Dominic replied evenly. “If you looked weak, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in my office. You’d be answering to someone else.”

She turned at that, meeting his gaze.

There it was, that infuriating steadiness. Dominic never rushed, never raised his voice, never allowed his emotions to spill across his face unless he chose to show them. It made him dangerous and irritating.

“Why did you want to see me?” he asked.

Lyra crossed her arms, leaning her hip lightly against the window. “Because I need to understand something.”

“Go on.”

“You crowned me knowing what it would do to the wolves. To the Council. To him.”

Dominic didn’t blink. “Dante is not fragile.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Silence stretched between them, thick but not hostile.

Lyra inhaled slowly. “You keep testing me.”

“I evaluate assets,” Dominic corrected.

She let out a soft laugh. “There it is. Asset.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you believe that’s how I see you?”

“I don’t know how you see me,” she said honestly. “That’s the problem.”

Dominic moved closer, stopping a respectful distance away. “Then ask.”

Lyra hesitated, then forced the words out before pride could stop her. “Why do you care what happens between me and Dante?”

There it was. The question she hadn’t wanted to say aloud.

Dominic studied her face carefully. “Because your bond with him influences every decision you make.”

“That’s politics.”

“It’s survival.”

She held his gaze. “Or jealousy?”

The faintest flicker crossed his expression.

“That would require me to feel threatened,” he replied.

“Do you?” she asked quietly.

Dominic took another step forward, not enough to invade her space, but enough to change the air between them.

“I respect power,” he said. “And I respect attachments that strengthen it. What I don’t respect are attachments that weaken it.”

Lyra’s jaw tightened. “You think he weakens me.”

“I think you’re conflicted.”

The word hit too close.

She looked away, staring at the reflection of them both in the glass. Queen and kingmaker. Flame and shadow broker.

“I am,” she admitted.

Dominic didn’t interrupt.

“I feel… pulled,” she continued slowly. “When I’m with him, everything simplifies. It’s instinct. It’s raw. It feels like something I don’t have to earn.”

“And here?” Dominic asked softly.

“Here I have to think,” she said. “Measure. Calculate. Decide who lives and who loses.”

“That’s not a flaw,” he replied. “That’s evolution.”

Lyra turned back to him. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be bound to someone.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “On the contrary. Every leader is bound to their empire.”

“That’s not the same.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s worse.”

The quiet honesty in his voice surprised her.

“You’ve never wanted something simple?” she asked.

Dominic tilted his head slightly. “Simple things break easily.”

“Maybe they’re worth breaking for.”

“Are they?” he countered gently.

Lyra hesitated.

Dominic’s voice softened. Just curious. “Tell me something honestly, Lyra. If Dante stood here right now and asked you to walk away from all of this would you?”

Her throat tightened.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

That was the truth. The most dangerous kind.

Dominic nodded slowly. “That uncertainty is what worries me.”

“Because I might choose him?”

“Because you haven’t decided who you are without him.”

The words landed hard.

Lyra looked at him sharply. “You think I don’t know who I am?”

“I think you’re still discovering it,” he said. “And that discovery can’t be built entirely on someone else’s presence.”

Silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t tense. It was thoughtful.

She exhaled slowly. “You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

“And you’re not as invincible as you pretend to be,” he returned.

A small smile slipped across her lips despite herself. “Careful, Dominic. That almost sounded like concern.”

“Don’t mistake awareness for softness,” he replied lightly.

She stepped closer, just enough that the space between them thinned. “And don’t mistake conflict for weakness.”

Their eyes held.

For a brief moment, the political lines blurred. It wasn’t Mafia and wolf. It wasn’t strategy and alliance. It was simply two people standing in a room, both accustomed to control, both aware of the quiet pull of something unspoken.

Dominic’s voice lowered slightly. “You are extraordinary, Lyra. Not because of the fire. Not because of the crown. Because you question yourself.”

“That’s not usually listed as a strength.”

“It is when you don’t let it paralyze you.”

Her lips curved faintly. “You flirt like you negotiate.”

“Measured?”

“Dangerous.”

He smiled genuinely this time. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The moment stretched, warm but restrained.

Then, without warning, the Mark on her collarbone burned.

Lyra gasped softly, stepping back instinctively.

Dominic’s eyes flicked to the faint glow beneath her skin. “He’s near.”

It wasn’t a question.

She pressed her fingers to the Mark, heart pounding as the bond pulsed alive, familiar, steady, unmistakable.

Dante is present.

Her breath caught.

Dominic watched her carefully. “You don’t have to choose tonight.”

“I know,” she whispered.

But the fire beneath her skin disagreed.