Chapter 19 - The Sovereign’s Awakening
The private medical clinic beneath the Long Island estate hummed with the steady, rhythmic beeping of cardiac monitors.
The air was sterile, cold, and smelled of betadine and life-support oxygen.
Dominic lay in the center of the recovery suite, an intricate web of IV lines feeding fluids and antibiotics into his veins. His broad chest was heavily bandaged, rising and falling in a deep, medically induced rhythm. The color had begun to return to his carved, rugged face, but he looked human for the first time—mortal, vulnerable, and exhausted.
I sat in the steel chair beside his bed, holding his large, calloused hand in both of mine.
I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. The adrenaline that had sustained me through the gunfights, the bunker explosion, and the confrontation with the Commission had faded, leaving a hollow, aching exhaustion in my bones. My body felt heavy, bruised, and beneath the surface of my skin, a faint, rhythmic throbbing had begun in my joints—the first terrifying whisper of the genetic countdown Helena had warned me about.
*Twenty-five years.*
I pushed the thought away, focusing entirely on the warmth of Dominic's skin against mine.
His fingers twitched.
I froze, leaning forward, my breath catching in my throat. "Dominic?"
A low, gravelly groan escaped his throat. His dark eyebrows knitted together in pain as his eyelids fluttered open, struggling against the harsh glare of the monitors.
His eyes, clouded with anesthesia and pain, scanned the ceiling before slowly turning toward me.
For a terrifying second, his gaze was unfocused, vacant. And then, like a fire catching in dry timber, the intelligence and possessive intensity rushed back into his dark irises.
"Tessa..." he rasped, his voice completely wrecked, dry as sand.
"I'm here," I choked out, a flood of tears finally escaping my eyes as I pressed my forehead against the back of his hand. "I'm right here. Don't move. You were in surgery for six hours."
He tried to sit up, a sharp hiss of agony escaping his lips as his core muscles engaged the torn wound.
"Stop! Dominic, lie down!" I ordered, gently pushing his shoulders back against the pillows. "You're safe. We're in the compound."
Dominic ignored the pain, his hand coming up, his fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up to his. His eyes swept frantically over my features—the dark circles beneath my eyes, the faint bruise on my jaw, the soot still clinging to the collar of my shirt.
"The Commission..." he managed to say, his voice strained. "Falcone... did they—"
"Falcone is dead," I whispered, smiling through my tears. "And the Commission met at the St. Regis three hours ago."
Dominic’s jaw locked, his heart monitor spiking with alarm. "Enzo... who protected you? Did they try to move on our borders?"
"Enzo was with me," I said, reaching up with my left hand to cover his, displaying the gold ring on my finger, and the heavy signet ring hanging over my heart. "And nobody is moving on our borders, Dominic. I walked into the lounge. I dropped Falcone's lieutenant on Carmine Lucchese's poker table. I put a bullet through the wood and told them if they crossed into your territory, I would wipe their families from the face of the earth."
Dominic stared at me. The monitors beside the bed beeped steadily, the only sound in the quiet room.
The shock in his eyes slowly transformed into something so fierce, so reverent, and so overwhelmingly profound that it took my breath away. He reached up, cupping the back of my head, and pulled me down until our lips met in a slow, bruised, aching kiss that tasted of life, survival, and blood.
"My queen," he breathed against my lips, his voice trembling with an emotion I had never heard in him before. "My brave, terrifying queen."
He held me against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around me, anchoring me to the earth. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I let myself close my eyes and breathe. I felt safe. We had survived the purge. We had crushed our enemies in New York.
We had won.
Then, the heavy steel doors of the ICU burst open.
Enzo stood in the doorway. He wasn't wearing his tactical gear—he was holding a satellite phone in his hand, and his face was utterly, completely devoid of color. It was the face of a man who had just seen a ghost walk out of a grave.
"Boss," Enzo whispered, his voice trembling violently. "Tessa."
Dominic immediately shifted, his protective instincts flaring despite his agony, his arm tightening like iron around my waist. "What is it, Enzo? The Commission?"
"No," Enzo choked out, holding up the satellite phone. "The tracking beacon we placed on Helena's extraction boat... it just went dark twenty miles off the coast of Rhode Island."
"Did she scuttle the vessel?" I asked, sitting up, my heart beginning to race again.
"No," Enzo said, his eyes welling with a sheer, unadulterated dread. "A warship intercepted her. An unmarked private frigate flying no flag. They boarded her vessel, slaughtered her entire private contractor unit in under four minutes, and secured the genetic files."
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "Who owns the frigate, Enzo? Falcone's family?"
"No, Dominic," Enzo whispered, his hand shaking so violently the phone rattled against his knuckles. He looked straight at me, his voice barely audible over the hum of the cardiac monitor.
"We just intercepted the naval registry and the decrypted comms from the flagship's bridge," Enzo said, swallowing hard. "The man who commanded the strike... the man who just took Helena and the master cipher... he didn't die twelve years ago in Milan, Tessa."
My heart stopped. The air turned to pure ice in my lungs.
Enzo lowered the phone, looking at me with pure horror.
"Your father is alive. And he just transmitted a message directly to Dominic's private frequency."
Dominic grabbed the bedside terminal, his knuckles turning white as he brought up the encrypted transmission.
May you like
A single line of text flashed on the black screen in bright, blood-red letters:
*GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER, ROSSI. OR I WILL TURN NEW YORK INTO YOUR GRAVE.*
