Dominic's POV
The silence in the penthouse wasn't right.
It wasn't the quiet of sleep, or solitude.
It was a void.
Dominic moved through the space like a panther, each step measured, deadly. The coffee mug on the counter still full. Her sweater still draped on the back of the couch. Her phone gone.
But her GPS tracker? The one he secretly installed in the gold charm on her bracelet?
Offline.
His stomach twisted.
Then came Ricardo's call.
"We lost her."
Everything inside Dominic stopped.
He didn't speak for a full beat.
Then he said "Say that again."
"The security team didn't see her leave the bookstore. One of them found the bracelet. It was snapped off." Ricardo says
Dominic's hand closed around the nearest chair and snapped it in half. His vision pulsed red.
"Shut the goddamn city down."
⸻
The CEO Dies. The King Rises.
He didn't take the elevator. He took the garage stairs five flights down, door kicked open at the bottom.
Gone were the Brioni suits and Ferragamo shoes. Now black shirt. Leather jacket. Gun holstered. Knife in his boot. Phone in hand, barking names that made grown men flinch.
The first to bleed was Arman Bek, a known runner for Ivan's organization. Dominic dragged him out of his club's VIP section and broke his nose before anyone could blink.
"You have three seconds," Dominic said, pressing the edge of the blade to Arman's cheek, "to tell me where she is."
"I—I don't know—"
He screamed when Dominic twisted the knife into his thigh.
"Ivan," Arman gasped. "Ivan took her."
⸻
Message to Ivan
Dominic stood outside one of Ivan's black-market fronts by the docks.
Two guards at the entrance.
Twelve inside.
He didn't knock.
He threw a flash grenade through the front window, followed by gunfire.
Five minutes later, the warehouse was burning.
Blood on his hands. Smoke in his lungs.
He left one man alive.
"Tell Ivan," Dominic growled, leaning in close. "This is just the prologue. I'm not the CEO tonight. I'm the fucking nightmare he forgot he created."
⸻
Luca's Reckoning
At 2:46 a.m., Dominic kicked in Luca's door.
Luca stumbled out, shirtless, dazed. "What the hell—"
Dominic slammed him against the wall, forearm to his throat. "You leaked my safe house coordinates, You opened the door for Ivan."
"I didn't know—!"
Dominic drew his gun. Clicked the safety off.
"You were family," Dominic whispered. "And you sold her out."
"I didn't know he'd take her! I thought—" Luca choked.
"You thought you could play both sides. But you forgot what side I'm really on."
He didn't pull the trigger. Not yet.
Instead, he smashed Luca's encrypted phone and yanked the SIM. Tossed him to the ground.
"You've got one chance to fix this," Dominic spat. "Or the next bullet goes through your skull."
⸻
By 4 a.m., half the city's underworld knew Aria Carter was untouchable — and she'd been taken. Dominic's wrath had no borders.
He made calls to old allies, criminals and ex-enemies alike. Burned bridges. Threatened alliances. Paid ransoms. Beat men senseless.
Dominic didn't care what it cost.
Because she was his.
Not to own.
Not to claim.
But to protect.
And someone took her from him.
⸻
He returned to the penthouse covered in soot and blood, eyes hollow, chest heaving. The entire place smelled like ash and fury.
He collapsed into the chair she used to curl into with a book. His hand covered his face. His breath trembled.
Then his phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN SENDER.
If you want her back, come alone. Bring your sins. Leave your empire.
Attached: a photo.
Aria.
Bound. Eyes wide.
A streak of blood on her temple.
Barely conscious.
And in the corner of the frame the tiniest flicker of movement.
A fetal monitor.
Still beeping.
Still alive.
For now.
YOU ARE READING
His to Love, Not to Claim
Romance[Completed] Aria Carter is 20, broke, and newly pregnant by a man who ghosted her the second she told him. Homeless and humiliated, she's trying to rebuild her life one piece at a time until fate throws her into the path of Dominic Voss, a 32-year-o...
