Chapter 116: Chapter 116
TWO DAYS LATER:
....
The underground reeked of metal, sweat, and burnt flesh. The walls were soundproof, but Dominic’s rage still seemed to reverberate through the walls like an earthquake that couldn’t be contained.
A man was tied to a steel chair. His wrists and ankles were bound so tightly that the rope cut into his skin. He was drenched in his own blood, sweat, and urine. An ugly combination of fear. His chest heaved like a cornered animal.
However, Dominic wasn’t done.
He stood in front of the man, sleeves rolled up, and shirt already stained with streaks of crimson. His eyes had gone black, and remained empty. The warmth that came with Celeste was gone. Now, it was a void that devoured mercy.
He moved with the calm precision of someone who had lived with violence as naturally as other men lived with breathing.
On the metal tray beside him, the coal smoldered, glowing red-orange. It kept on releasing a smoke that filled the room with a stinging, and acrid scent. Dominic lifted one with iron tongs, brought it close to the man’s bare chest, and pressed it against the flesh.
The man screamed. A raw, animalistic sound tore from his lungs, scraping the air, and making one of the men behind Dominic flinch despite years of being around Dominic’s world.
"I don’t deserve this!" the man choked, his voice breaking into sobs.
Dominic tilted his head, studying him the way one might study a bug squirming beneath a boot. His voice, when it came, was detached, chilling in its stillness.
"You don’t get what you deserve," he murmured. "You get what you take."
Saying that, he pressed the coal harder. The smell of burning flesh curled into the air, sharp and foul. The man writhed, veins bulging on his temples, and spit flying from his mouth as he screamed again.
Rodger’s fingers clattered across the keyboard at the far table, his eyes never leaving the stream of data he was pulling from the man’s hacked phone. His jaw was tight.
"Boss," Rodger said without looking up, his voice clipped. "Ronan wasn’t lying. Hr was tracking her. He got photos of Celeste’s apartment, her routes, and even her office number in her company. It’s all here."
Something inside Dominic snapped.
The coal clattered back onto the tray, and his fist slammed into the man’s face. The force made the man’s chair toppled sideways. The guards caught it, shoving it upright again, the man’s lip split and his teeth rattled out onto the floor.
"Who sent you?" Dominic roared. His control unraveled at the edges. His voice wasn’t calm anymore.
The man’s chest heaved, his eyes wild with terror. He coughed blood, his head lolling as though it weighed too much. "I.... I can’t—"
"You can," Dominic hissed, grabbing his jaw so tightly the bone creaked. He leaned in close, and whispered against the man’s ear. "You tried to touch what’s mine. You breathe because I haven’t decided to stop you yet. So tell me, before I strip you piece by piece and make you watch yourself die."
The man gagged against Dominic’s grip, his lips trembled, and spit mixing with blood rolled down his chin.
His head lolled forward, barely tethered to consciousness, and his chest rose and fell like a dying engine. For a second, Dominic thought he’d slipped into unconsciousness again.
He slapped him hard. The crack of palm against cheek ricocheted through the underground.
The man jolted, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was hoarse, shredded from hours of screaming, but the words clawed their way out.
"I... I was only meant... to stage it."
Dominic stilled.
The man’s body quaked violently against the restraints, every inhale sounding like it might be his last. He turned his head to the side, sobbing, and trying to spit blood so he could force words out faster.
"I was asked to follow her... for a week. Routes... where she walked... where she drove. Map everything out.." His voice cracked, breaking into a wail. "The order was... car accident. Make it look real. Not a kidnapping. Not a hit. Just... an accident but enough to end her."
Dominic’s nostrils flared. A sound rumbled low in his chest, so guttural it was almost inhuman.
His hand flexed open and shut, knuckles raw and reddened from repeated blows. He could kill the man now. Right here, right now. No hesitation.
Recognition coiled in Dominic’s gut. Whoever had sent this pathetic creature after Celeste hadn’t simply wanted her gone. They wanted it quiet. That kind of attack was beyond personal.
This wasn’t Carlos. Carlos comes directly at him.
The man’s eyes rolled back for a second, his body slumping. Dominic jerked his chin at the guard nearest him. "Wake him."
A bucket of ice water slammed into the man’s chest. He gasped, his entire body convulsing at the shock. His teeth chattered, and his breath tore raggedly out of his throat. Dominic crouched in front of him. His black eyes staring deep into the man’s soul.
"Who," Dominic whispered, his voice lower than before, a deadly calm that terrified more than the shouting. "Who gave the order?"
The man shook his head weakly, blood and water dripping from his face. "I... I can’t."
"You will." Dominic’s tone was steel. He lifted another coal with the tongs, and hovered it so close the man could feel the heat lapping at his shredded skin.
The man’s scream tore out, trying to break free any little fight that remained in him. He thrashed, the chair groaning beneath him.
"It was..." he coughed. "It was—" he stuttered. His throat locked, but fear cracked it open again. His voice shrieked through sobs.
"Theresa!"
The coal slipped from Dominic’s hold, clattering back onto the tray. The sound rang like a gunshot in the still chamber.
Rodger froze at his laptop, his fingers suspended in midair. The guards stiffened. No one breathed.
They all know Dominic’s history with Theresa.
Dominic didn’t move.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the man, the word echoing through his skull louder than the screams had. Theresa.
He drew in a breath. A deep, steady, and controlled breath. The breath take in was not because he was tired, neither was it because he was worn down.
But because finally, Theresa had decided to show her hand.
A slow, deliberate inhale filled his lungs, stretching his chest tight.
Theresa had stepped into his world, his rules, his domain, and struck at the one line Dominic never allowed anyone to cross. Not even her.
No matter how much he had loved her. Especially her. She should know what he’d do for a woman he loved.
He let the air seep out through his teeth, his face a blank mask. His men shifted uneasily, exchanging glances. They’d seen Dominic angry. They’d seen him violent. But this silence? This was something they never loved to see.
Dominic leaned forward, his face inches from the man’s bloodied ruin. His voice was a whisper, but every syllable sliced like a blade.
"You’re sure?"
The man sobbed, nodding frantically, chains rattling. "Yes. Yes, I swear. It was her. She paid me, and told me exactly what to do. Said it had to look clean. No noise, and no questions."
Rodger’s jaw tightened. He leaned back in his chair, his voice breaking the oppressive quiet ground. "Boss..." he broke in, when Dominic refused to show acknowledgement. "he’s telling the truth. His messages and his bank deposits... they trace back. She laundered the payments through intermediaries, but the pattern’s there. Theresa’s behind it."
Dominic closed his eyes for half a second..
Theresa!
Finally, she had forced his hand.