Chapter 4 - Shadows at the Door
Night inside the Ashford estate was darker than in the city. The wind howled off Lake Michigan, rattling the reinforced glass of the master suite.
Isla sat on the plush sofa in Dominic’s vast bedroom, reading a medical journal under the dim light of a floor lamp. Across the room, Dominic lay on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, his breathing shallow and uneven.
“You’re fighting it,” Isla spoke up softly, breaking the silence.
“Sleep is a vulnerability,” Dominic replied, his voice echoing in the vast room. “In my world, if you close your eyes, someone takes your life.”
“I’m right here,” she said, setting her book down. She walked over to the side of the bed, pulling her chair close just as she had done in the hospital. She reached out, placing two fingers gently against his wrist to check his pulse. It was racing. “Focus on my pulse, not yours. You’re safe in this room.”
Dominic looked at her hand resting against his skin. Slowly, painfully, he let out a long breath. “Tell me something, Isla. Anything. Just speak.”
She hesitated, then began to talk about her brother, Marco—how he loved science, how he built small robots out of scrap metal, and how she used to sing him terrible lullabies when they were younger. Her voice was calm, warm, and steady, a gentle rhythm cutting through the suffocating tension of the room.
As she spoke, Dominic’s eyes slowly closed. His rigid body relaxed, inch by inch, until his chest rose and fell in a steady, deep sleep.
Hours passed. Isla stayed in the chair, watching over him.
Suddenly, at three in the morning, a muffled muffled red light flashed silently on the wall. The silent alarm.
Before Isla could even stand, the doors of the suite burst open. Carter slid into the room, silenced pistol raised, followed by two armed men.
Dominic’s eyes snapped open instantly. In one fluid motion, despite his tearing stitches, he reached under his pillow, pulled a heavy black handgun, and positioned himself directly in front of Isla, shielding her completely with his body.
“What is it?” Dominic barked, his voice filled with lethal authority.
“Perimeter breach on the south lawn,” Carter reported quickly. “Two scouts from the Moretti syndicate. We caught them at the fence line, but they know you’re here.”
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Isla gasped, shrinking back, but Dominic’s left hand reached back, finding hers and gripping it with fierce, protective strength.
“Clear the grounds,” Dominic ordered, his eyes cold as ice. “And make sure they leave a message for Moretti: if he sends boys to my home again, I’ll send them back in boxes.”
