Chapter 8 - FALLING WALLS
The penthouse at the top of the Salvatore tower was silent, a stark contrast to the violence of the docks. Elara sat on the edge of a leather sofa, carefully stitching the wound on Dominic’s shoulder. She had insisted on doing it herself, bypassing the syndicate's underground doctor.
"You took a bullet for me," she said softly, tying off the final suture and snipping the thread.
"You're an asset," Dominic replied, staring straight ahead at the panoramic view of the glowing Manhattan skyline. "I protect my assets."
"I'm an asset," she repeated, a bitter smile touching her lips. "Right."
She turned to pack up the medical kit, but his uninjured hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. It wasn't forceful, but it was absolute.
May you like
"You were an asset," Dominic corrected, his dark eyes locking onto hers, the walls finally crumbling. "Now, you're something else entirely."
He pulled her gently toward him. Elara didn't resist. When his lips met hers, it wasn't tentative. It was a collision of two worlds. It tasted of danger, expensive whiskey, and undeniable possession. For the first time in her life, Elara felt completely tethered to something real, even if it was built on blood and secrets.
