d2.“PLEASE, DON'T DIE! I didn't risk my life saving you just to watch you die!”

The aftermath of the gala felt like the eye of a hurricane.

Donald Hayes was behind federal bars, facing domestic terrorism and racketeering charges that ensured he would die in a federal penitentiary. The Hayes syndicate fell apart within hours, their territory absorbed effortlessly into Dominic’s empire.

Yet inside the quiet stone walls of the Whitmore estate, a different kind of tension was brewing.

It was two in the morning. Unable to sleep from the adrenaline buzzing in my veins, I crept down the spiral staircase in an oversized silk robe, intending to make some warm milk in the kitchen.

As I passed the west corridor, I heard a sound.

A sharp, ragged grunt of agonizing pain.

I paused, my heart leaping into my throat. The sound came from behind the heavy oak double doors of the private rehabilitation gym—a room that had remained strictly locked since I first arrived at the mansion.

I stepped closer. The door was cracked open an inch, warm light spilling across the hallway floor.

I peered inside, and my breath seized in my throat.

Dominic was not in his wheelchair.

He was suspended between two heavy steel parallel bars. His knuckles were bone-white as his massive arms held his entire body weight. His face was drenched in sweat, his teeth bared in a grimace of pure, agonizing effort.

And then, I watched in absolute shock as his right foot—the leg that was supposed to be completely dead—dragged forward.

*Clank.*

He set his heel against the padded mat.

Then, trembling violently, his left leg shifted forward three inches.

Dominic let out a low roar of exertion, his upper body shaking under the strain, before his knees buckled.

He began to fall toward the floor.

Without thinking, I slammed the door open and sprinted across the rubber matting. “Dominic!”

I dove forward, catching him beneath his ribs. The sheer momentum and weight of his six-foot-two, heavily muscled frame knocked the air out of my lungs, and we both tumbled onto the thick blue crash mats together.

I landed on my back, Dominic pinned over me, his heavy chest heaving against mine, our faces inches apart.

His skin was burning hot with sweat. His gray eyes were blown wide with shock, staring down at me in stunned silence.

“Lily...” he panted, his breath brushing warm against my lips. “What are you doing in here?”

“What am *I* doing?” I gasped, my hands still pressed against the tight, corded muscle of his back. “Dominic... you were standing! You walked!”

A shadow crossed his face, a mixture of shame and fierce pride. He slowly rolled onto his side, propping himself on one elbow, his dark hair falling across his forehead.

“I’ve been working with a private military surgeon for fourteen months,” Dominic admitted, his voice rough and low. “The car bomb crushed my L4 and L5 vertebrae, but the spinal cord wasn't severed. It was severely compressed. The nerve pathways began regrowing eight months ago.”

“Why did you hide it?” I whispered, my heart aching as I saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “Why pretend to be helpless?”

“Because in my world, a wounded lion is hunted by every hyena in the pack,” Dominic said bitterly. “If Hayes knew I was recovering, he wouldn't have tried a subtle poisoning or a staged drowning. He would have hit my compound with rocket launchers. Pretending to be paralyzed was the only armor I had left.”

He looked down at his trembling legs, a dark scowl etching his features.

“And look at me,” he spat. “I can barely take two steps without collapsing like a broken doll. Some lion.”

I sat up, moving closer until I was kneeling right beside him. Without hesitating, I placed my small hand over his clenched fist.

“You aren't broken, Dominic,” I said softly, my voice filled with unwavering conviction. “You survived a car bomb. You survived twelve feet of water. You took down Chicago’s most dangerous cartel in a single night. You are the strongest man I’ve ever known.”

Dominic stared at my hand covering his. The violent tension in his shoulders slowly, miraculously melted away.

He raised his other hand, his calloused fingertips gently cupping my cheek. His touch was so tender it made my eyes sting with tears.

“Do you know what kept me fighting underwater, Lily?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “When the breath left my chest, and I thought it was the end?”

“What?” I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“I saw your eyes through the water,” Dominic whispered. “You were terrified, but you didn't run. You stayed to save a monster who had treated you like dirt. I told myself right then... if God let me breathe again, I would spend the rest of my life keeping you safe.”

The air between us charged with intoxicating electricity.

Dominic leaned forward, closing the distance, and pressed his lips against mine.

The kiss was fierce, possessive, yet filled with a desperate tenderness that shattered every defense I had left. I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, melting into the scent of cedarwood, rain, and raw power.