His Possession, Her Obsession

Please-please, I swear, I didn't mean-" Benny tried begging.

A gunshot cracked through the air, sharp and final.

Dominic didn't blink as the man's body jerked, then slumped against the blood-slick floor. The metallic scent of death mingled with the acrid burn of gunpowder, thick in the cold night air. Smoke curled from the barrel of his gun, the only movement in the sudden, hollow silence that followed.

Dominic exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the pistol. His pulse wasn't racing. It never did. Killing was a task, like signing a contract or pouring a drink. Necessary. Expected.

Please-please, Luca, I swear I didn't mean to-" Eddie knew he was next as he watched Benny's body slump to the floor.

"You didn't mean to?" Dominic's voice was quiet, almost amused. He tilted his head, watching the man tremble. "You took my money. You ran like a coward. And then you sold my fucking shipment . That's three mistakes, Eddie."

Eddie whimpered, his sweaty face twisted in panic. "I-I had no choice! They threatened my family-"

Dominic crouched in front of him, gun resting against his knee. "I don't give a fuck about your family. You should've come to me."

"I was scared, Dom."

Dominic smiled, slow and humorless. "You should be."

And then he stood, pressing the barrel of his Glock against Eddie's forehead.

The man sobbed, shaking violently. "Please. I have a son-"

Dominic pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the warehouse, sharp and final. Eddie's body jerked before crumpling sideways, blood spilling onto the concrete in a thick, dark pool.

Dominic sighed, wiping a stray drop of blood off his sleeve. He fucking hated it when they begged. If a man was going to die, he should die with some dignity.

The silence after was heavier than before except from the choked whimpers coming from the last man.

Marco.

He was on his knees, shaking like a rat caught in a trap, his back pressed against a table stacked with stolen money-Dominic's money. His face was drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling in frantic gasps. He reeked of fear.

Dominic rolled his shoulders, his muscles still tense, still pulsing with the high of the kill. Blood splattered his knuckles, staining the expensive watch on his wrist. He wiped a smear of red from his face with the back of his hand, unbothered.

"Eddie and Benny are dead," Dominic said, his voice calm, like he was stating a fact.

Marco let out a strangled whimper.

"You're the last one," Dominic continued, his footsteps slow, deliberate. "Which means you get the honor of telling me... what the fuck were you thinking?"

Marco shook his head violently. "D-Dom, listen, it was never supposed to go this far-"

Dominic pulled the trigger.

Boom.

A bullet tore through Marco's shoulder, the force knocking him back against the table. He screamed, clutching at the open wound, blood spilling between his fingers.

"Wrong answer." Dominic crouched in front of him, tilting his head. "Try again."

Marco's breath hitched. His pupils were blown wide, his skin pale as death. "Please, Dom," he sobbed, his voice breaking. "It wasn't my idea, I swear-"

Another shot.

This time, to the leg.

Marco's body jerked violently. His scream was so loud it rattled the rafters.

Dominic sighed. "You're really bad at this."

Blood dripped onto the concrete, the sound eerily quiet against the crackling flames in the background. His men had already set the place ablaze-burning the evidence, the betrayal, the lesson he had just taught.

Marco wheezed, eyes flickering between pleading and realization.

There was no way out.

Dominic pressed the barrel of his gun beneath Marco's chin, forcing his head up until their eyes met.

"Last chance," Dominic murmured. "Tell me something useful, and I'll make it quick."

Tears leaked down Marco's cheeks. His lips trembled. And then, finally-

"It was the Morettis."

Dominic stilled.

For a second, the only thing he could hear was the fire consuming the warehouse, the soft pop of embers devouring the stolen money.

The Morettis.

His family's oldest enemy.

A slow, dark smile curled Dominic's lips. "Now that," he murmured, "is useful."

Then, he pulled the trigger.

Boom.

Marco's body slumped, blood splattering across the stacks of burning cash. The Morettis had played a hand in this? Good. That just gave Dominic an excuse to wipe them off the map.

He turned on his heel and walked out, the flames swallowing up the past hour of carnage behind him.

By the time he got home, the blood had dried, crusting over his skin like war paint.

His penthouse was quiet. But not empty.

"Dominic."

He turned.

His father stood at the top of the stairs, watching him with that same unreadable expression he always wore. The expression that said he already knew everything.

"Come to my office," his father said. "Now."

Dominic exhaled sharply before turning and following his father up the stairs.

The office smelled like whiskey and old leather, the dim glow of the city skyline casting sharp shadows across the bookshelves. Dominic stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

His father sat behind the desk, fingers steepled, his gaze heavy. "Do you know why I called you here?"

"If it's about the Morettis-"

"It is."

Dominic leaned back against the door, crossing his arms. "Good. Then you already know I'm going to kill them."

His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, Dominic. You're not."

Dominic stiffened. "The hell I'm not."

His father lifted his gaze, sharp and unyielding. "You're not. Because you're going to marry their daughter instead."

Silence.

The words didn't register immediately. Not because Dominic hadn't heard them-he had. But because they didn't make sense.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's a joke, right?"

His father's face remained stone cold. "It's already decided. A marriage between the Carusos and the Morettis will solidify our alliance. It will end this war before it begins. It will make us stronger."

Dominic took a step forward, his body coiled tight, fists clenched. "They stole from us," he hissed. "They fucking betrayed us. And you expect me to just-what? Put a ring on their princess and smile?"

"Yes," his father said simply.

Dominic let out a breath. His blood was still hot from the kill, from the fire, from the rage still simmering beneath his skin. And now? This?

"Who is she?" he asked, voice flat.

His father's gaze didn't waver. "Valentina Moretti."

Dominic clenched his jaw. He'd heard the name before. Moretti's only daughter. Kept hidden. Untouched by their business. A pawn waiting to be played.

And now, she was supposed to be his.

"This is fucking bullshit," he muttered, turning toward the door.

His father's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You leave tomorrow to meet her."

Dominic inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

This wasn't over.

But for now? He had no choice.