Part 5
The mud tore at Meline’s shoes as she scrambled down the rocky incline toward the shoreline.
The rain was blinding, freezing, needles of water cutting into her skin.
She couldn't see more than five feet in front of her.
Behind her, flashlights pierced the darkness, their bright beams cutting through the downpour like searchlights.
“She went out the back!” a harsh voice shouted over the wind. “Find her! Marcus wants her alive and unmarked!”
Marcus.
Meline’s mind raced as she hid behind a large, jagged boulder at the edge of the water.
Dominic’s cousin.
She remembered Marcus. He was always smiling too much, always looking at Dominic with a hidden envy that masked itself as loyalty.
If Marcus had her, he had control over Dominic.
She couldn't let that happen.
She couldn't let her child become a pawn in their family’s brutal game of thrones.
She pressed her back against the cold stone, her breathing ragged, trying to suppress the cough building in her throat from the freezing air.
The flashlights were getting closer.
The beams danced across the wet sand, just yards away from where she was hiding.
“Check the pier!” another voice barked.
Meline closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks.
“Please,” she whispered into the dark. “Please…”
Suddenly, a loud, sharp crack echoed through the air.
It wasn't thunder.
It was the unmistakable sound of a suppressed firearm.
Then came another. And another.
The bright flashlights searching the beach suddenly jerked violently before dropping into the mud.
Shouts of confusion turned into cries of panic.
“We’re taking fire! From the tree line! Who the hell is—”
The voice cut off abruptly with a heavy thud.
Meline opened her eyes, her heart stopping completely.
Through the rain, she saw dark shapes moving with terrifying speed and absolute precision.
They weren't Marcus’s men.
These men moved like shadows, shifting through the storm without a sound, neutralizing every single one of Marcus’s tactical shooters within seconds.
It was an execution. Efficient. Silent. Complete.
Within less than two minutes, the beach fell completely silent again, save for the roaring of the ocean.
The flashlights on the ground flickered out one by one as they were crushed under heavy combat boots.
Meline pressed herself harder against the boulder, pulling her knees to her chest.
She was trapped.
Then, she heard the sound of footsteps walking slowly down the gravel path toward her.
Not the hurried, chaotic run of a soldier.
A slow, measured stride.
Unbothered by the rain. Unbothered by the storm.
The footsteps stopped just on the other side of her boulder.
The silence stretched, long and agonizing, until the wind itself seemed to die down in anticipation.
“You always did hate the rain, Meline.”
The voice was deep. Smooth. Rich with a dark authority that she would recognize even if she were deaf.
Dominic.
Meline’s breath hitched. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.
Slowly, a tall figure stepped around the side of the rock.
Dominic stood there, completely soaked, his long black coat dripping water onto the sand.
He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He was in his tailored suit, looking as if he had just stepped out of a boardroom, completely unfazed by the violence that had just occurred fifty yards away.
His dark eyes looked down at her.
They weren't angry.
They were burning with an intensity that felt hotter than fire in the freezing night.
He looked at her face, tracing every line, every tired shadow under her eyes.
Then, slowly, his gaze dropped down to her hands.
Which were still clamped tightly over her stomach.
His chest rose and fell in a slow, deep breath.
“Dominic…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the waves.
He didn't say a word.
May you like
He simply reached down, his large, warm hand extending toward her through the freezing darkness.
“Come home,” he said quietly.
