Chapter 5 - The King’s SurrenderThe SUV came to a sliding halt on the plowed gravel drive.
Before the security guards could reach for the door handle, I pushed it open myself, stepping out into the biting winter chill. The icy wind immediately whipped through my thin sweater, but I barely felt it.
My eyes were locked entirely on him.
Dominic looked older, harder, and haunted. The sharp angles of his face were carved from pure exhaustion, dark circles bruised beneath his piercing gray eyes. His black wool coat was thrown open, revealing a tailored suit jacket, and his chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths.
He stood motionless on the bottom stone step, staring at me as if I were a ghost materializing out of a snow-blind dream.
For three long seconds, neither of us moved. The howling wind was the only sound in the world.
Then, my gaze dropped.
My oversized sweater parted slightly in the gale, revealing the full, undeniable six-month curve of my pregnant belly.
Dominic’s breath caught violently in his throat.
His eyes tracked down to my stomach, widening with a mixture of raw agony, fierce possessiveness, and overwhelming, shattering love. His large hands began to tremble uncontrollably at his sides.
“Megan...”
His voice wasn't the cold, commanding bark of a mafia king. It was a broken, desperate whisper carried away by the wind.
He crossed the distance between us in three long, frantic strides.
I flinched instinctively, stepping back, but Dominic was too fast. He dropped to his knees right there in the freezing slush and snow, ignoring the damp fabric of his trousers, and pressed his face directly against my swollen belly.
His warm breath radiated through my thin sweater.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his shoulders shaking as he wept against me. “God, Megan, I am so, so sorry. I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone forever.”
The sight of this terrifying, untouchable titan of the Chicago underworld kneeling in the snow, sobbing against my child, completely shattered whatever anger I had left.
Tears burst from my eyes. I sank down into the snow with him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him against me as hard as I could.
“I was so scared, Dominic,” I sobbed into his hair, my fingers tangling in the dark strands. “I heard them... I thought you didn't care. I thought you traded us away.”
“Never,” Dominic vowed fiercely, pulling back to look up at me. His hands framed my face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears freezing on my cheeks. His gray eyes burned with absolute, terrifying devotion. “You are my life, Megan. The only light I’ve had in this dark world. When I saw those ashes... when I realized what you thought you had to do... I wanted to die.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, our breath mingling in the frosty air.
“The wedding to Isabella never happened,” he whispered fiercely. “I crushed the Moretti alliance yesterday. Their leadership is gone. Their territory is ours. There is no one left in this world who can ever touch you or our child again. You are safe. You are home.”
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I closed my eyes, letting his warmth envelop me, finally allowing myself to believe that the nightmare was over.
But as Dominic helped me to my feet and guided me toward the warm, glowing foyer of the estate, neither of us knew that a surviving faction of the Moretti loyalists had followed our transport across state lines—and they were watching us from the tree line with murder in their eyes.
