Chapter 197: A file with Dominic’s name on it.

Dominic Hale had been in a lot of fights.

Most of them physical.

Some verbal.

But this?

This was different.

This was Elena Steel standing in his world again, breathing the same air, speaking in half-truths that felt like a wrecking ball to everything he had told himself for years.

He had spent so much time being angry.

And now?

Now he didn’t know what the hell to feel.

And that was the worst part.

Because Dominic Hale always knew what to do.

Until now.

After Elena walked out of his office, Dominic stood there for what felt like a full minute, jaw locked, hands on his hips, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed him.

Then—he exhaled sharply, muttered something under his breath, and grabbed his jacket.

He needed air.

Or a punching bag.

Or both.

And as he stepped into the hallway, he was not surprised to find the world’s most insufferable group of people waiting for him.

Leaning against the walls. Arms crossed. Expressions ranging from amused to downright entertained.

James, ever the instigator, smirked.

"That looked productive."

Dominic ignored him.

Zayn, lounging like he didn’t have a care in the world, arched a brow.

"So, you gonna tell us what that was all about, or are we gonna have to keep spying like a bunch of high schoolers?"

Liam grinned. "I vote we keep spying."

Seraphina sighed, rubbing her temple. "You’re all impossible."

Damon, standing beside her, smirked. "You’re still here, though."

Seraphina rolled her eyes.

Dominic, clenching his jaw, exhaled sharply.

"I don’t have time for this."

Liam snorted. "Right. Because you’re so busy brooding."

Dominic turned sharply, glaring.

Liam raised his hands. "Hey, I’m just saying—"

"You’re always just saying," Dominic muttered. "Try shutting up for once."

Liam grinned. "Never."

James took a slow sip of his coffee, unbothered.

"So, what’s the deal?" he asked. "You two hashing out old drama, or are we about to have another office romance situation?"

Dominic’s glare sharpened.

James smirked.

"Relax," he said. "We all saw the sparks, Hale."

Dominic’s jaw clenched.

"There are no sparks," he muttered.

Zayn smirked. "Sure."

Damon chuckled. "Right."

Seraphina just sighed. "You’re all children."

Dominic rubbed a hand over his face.

"Go bother someone else," he muttered.

Then, without another word, he stalked down the hallway, heading toward the training bay.

Because if he didn’t hit something soon, he was going to lose his mind.

Elena knew she had pushed too far.

Not that she regretted it.

But still.

Dominic was a controlled man, a man who did not let his emotions dictate his actions.

Until now.

Until she had told him the truth.

And now?

Now she had no idea what he was going to do with that information.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, pacing her office.

Why had she told him?

She could have just left it alone. Let him believe whatever he had convinced himself of all these years.

But no.

Because that wasn’t who she was.

And because—no matter how much she wished it weren’t true—

She still gave a damn.

And that?

That was a problem.

Dominic landed a sharp punch against the bag, his breath controlled but heavy, muscles tense.

He wasn’t thinking.

Not about form.

Not about technique.

Just about Elena.

The way she had looked at him. The way she had said those words.

"Stay with you… or keep you alive."

Another punch.

Another.

Another.

It wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

"Not sure if that bag insulted your mother or if you’re just really working through something," a voice drawled.

Dominic didn’t stop.

Didn’t need to look to know it was Damon.

Damon leaned against the ropes of the nearest training ring, arms crossed, watching him.

"You look like hell," Damon mused.

Dominic landed another hit.

"Feel like it."

Damon nodded. "Figured."

A beat.

Then—

"You gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to wait until you and Steel burn the whole damn building down with your unresolved tension?"

Dominic exhaled sharply.

Then, finally, he stopped.

Wiped sweat from his brow. Turned to face Damon.

"She told me why she left."

Damon raised a brow. "And?"

Dominic’s jaw worked.

"It wasn’t what I thought."

Damon studied him for a moment.

Then, simply—

"You believe her?"

Dominic hesitated.

Which meant yes.

Damon smirked. "Well, damn."

Dominic sighed.

"Don’t start."

Damon shrugged. "Too late."

Dominic groaned.

"You know," Damon mused, "for a man who prides himself on keeping things neat and controlled, you sure do get tangled up in complicated women."

Dominic shot him a look.

Damon grinned.

"Hey," he said. "Takes one to know one."

Dominic huffed a breath, shaking his head.

Then, softer—

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Damon tilted his head.

"Depends," he said. "What do you want to do with it?"

Dominic didn’t answer.

Because that was the problem.

He didn’t know.

But he was damn sure going to find out.

Elena wasn’t pacing anymore.

She was sitting behind her desk, staring at an old file—one she hadn’t opened in years.

A file with Dominic’s name on it.

A file from the day she had been forced to leave.

She traced a finger over the faded ink, her mind going somewhere she didn’t want it to.

Then, before she could stop herself—

She closed the folder.

Stood.

And went to find Dominic.

Because this?

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

And something told her—it never had been.