The door slammed behind him, leaving a silence so sharp it cut through me. I stared at the plate of untouched food, my appetite lost in the aftermath of Dominic's storm.
What was it about him? One second, he was ice—controlled, untouchable. The next, fire—burning, devouring.
And now I'd thrown myself directly into the flames.
I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping against the polished floor. The tension in the room was suffocating, and the walls seemed closer than they had before. I needed air—space to think. But as I crossed the room, something caught my eye: a faint flicker of light beneath a door at the end of the hall.
Dominic's study.
My steps faltered. He had forbidden me from entering. "Off-limits," he'd said with that icy finality that made defiance seem both thrilling and terrifying. But tonight, after everything, I didn't care.
I pushed open the door, the creak of the hinges betraying me. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of a desk lamp. Papers were strewn across the surface, and a glass of amber liquid sat untouched beside an old photograph.
My gaze lingered on the photo—a younger Dominic, his face softer, standing beside another man. His brother.
The air thickened as I stepped closer. I had heard the whispers about Dominic's brother—the tragedy that had hardened him into the man he was today. But I'd never asked, and he'd never told me.
I reached for the photo, my fingers brushing against the edge of the frame when—
"Scarlett."
His voice, low and sharp, froze me in place.
I turned slowly. He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes burned with something I couldn't name.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his tone dangerous.
I swallowed hard. "I wasn't... I just—"
"You just what?" He stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. "Decided to ignore every rule I've set?"
His words were cutting, but his voice cracked at the edges, betraying a vulnerability he couldn't hide.
"Who is he?" I asked softly, gesturing to the photo.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and unyielding. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer.
"My brother," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I waited, giving him space to continue. When he didn't, I pressed gently. "What happened to him?"
His jaw tightened, and he turned away, his hands braced against the desk. "He died because of me."
The admission hung in the air, stark and raw.
"That's not true," I said, stepping closer. "It can't be—"
"Don't," he snapped, spinning to face me. "Don't tell me what is or isn't true. You don't know. You weren't there."
His words stung, but I didn't back down. "Then tell me. Make me understand."
He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "You think you want to understand, Scarlett, but you don't. My brother trusted me. He believed in me. And I let him die."
The pain in his voice was palpable, cutting deeper than any argument we'd had. For the first time, I saw the man beneath the mask—the grief, the guilt, the humanity he tried so hard to bury.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
His gaze snapped to mine, and for a moment, I thought he might push me away. But instead, he laughed again, softer this time, the sound laced with something I couldn't place.
"Sorry doesn't fix anything," he said. "It doesn't bring him back. It doesn't change the fact that his blood is on my hands."
I reached for him, my hand brushing against his arm. "Dominic—"
"Don't," he said, his voice breaking. "Don't try to save me, Scarlett. You can't."
His words were a warning, but his eyes—his eyes begged me not to leave.
I wanted to say something, to tell him he didn't have to carry this burden alone. But before I could, my gaze fell on a stack of papers on the desk. Among them was a letter, the corner sticking out as if inviting me to read it.
And then I saw it—a name I recognized. A name that sent a chill racing down my spine.
"Dominic," I said slowly, my voice trembling. "What is this?"
He followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing as he reached for the letter. But I was faster, snatching it off the desk before he could stop me.
"Scarlett, don't—"
I unfolded the letter, my eyes scanning the words. And then the ground shifted beneath me.
"This..." I whispered, my voice shaking. "This isn't about your brother, is it? This is about you."
He snatched the letter from my hands, crumpling it in his fist. "You don't know what you're talking about."
But I did. The letter made it clear—Dominic wasn't the mastermind I'd thought he was. He was a pawn, just like me.
And whoever was pulling the strings was far more dangerous than either of us had realized.
I looked up at him, my heart racing. "Dominic, who are you really working for?"
His silence was deafening, his expression unreadable. But the flicker of fear in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
We were in far deeper than I'd ever imagined.
And this time, there was no way out.