The heavy oak doors of the abandoned chapel groaned on their rusted hinges, sending a dry, echoing shriek through the vaulted interior.

By nightfall, the blood had been washed from the gravel, the shattered gates temporarily secured with heavy chains, and the estate placed on absolute lockdown.

Dominic walked down the stone path toward the chapel. The north window was still partially open, covered only by a heavy canvas tarp to keep out the night chill.

He threw the iron deadbolt open and stepped inside.

Tessa was sitting on an upturned wooden crate near the altar. She had been crying—her eyes were rimmed with red, and her hands were still shaking slightly—but as soon as she saw him enter, she stood up immediately and marched right toward him.

"Are you insane?" Tessa demanded, her voice cracking with a mixture of fear and fury. "There was a gunfight outside! People were shooting!"

"I told you to stay locked inside," Dominic replied coldly, his jaw tight as he fought to rein in his own adrenaline.

"I heard the shots, Dominic! I thought..." She stopped, her voice catching in her throat as the terrifying realization of what could have happened hit her all over again. "I thought you were dead."

Dominic stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the raw, genuine terror she felt not for her own safety, but for his.

For nine years, no one had feared for Dominic Marchetti’s life. People feared for their lives around him, but no one had ever cared enough to cry over the possibility of losing him.

The hard, frozen armor around Dominic’s heart cracked completely.

Before Tessa could step back, Dominic closed the distance between them, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of cedar and copper and warm humanity.

"I'm not going to die," Dominic whispered fiercely against her skin, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion. "Not yet. Not before I finish what I started."

Tessa’s hands came up, resting against his broad shoulders. She could feel the hard, unyielding muscle of his back, and she could feel the subtle tremble of exhaustion and relief running through his frame. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, letting him anchor himself to her.

"Marcone sent them," Dominic said quietly against her hair. "He knows you're here. He thinks you're my weakness."

Tessa pulled back just enough to look up into his dark, intense gray eyes. "Am I?"

Dominic didn't hesitate. He reached up, his large, warm hand cupping her cheek, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw.

"Yes," Dominic murmured, his voice raw with honesty. "You are. You're the first real thing I've allowed myself to feel in nine years. And I won't let anyone take that away from me."

Tessa’s breath hitched. Before she could answer, the heavy chapel doors creaked open behind them.

Vance stood in the doorway, holding a secure tablet, looking uncomfortable to interrupt.

"Boss," Vince said quietly. "We traced the radio frequencies. Marcone is holed up in the old textile mill down by the river. He's waiting for confirmation that the hit on the estate succeeded."