Fatally Yours

Chapter 30

•DOMINIK•

The atmosphere inside the jet was thick with tension as we settled into our seats. The engines hummed steadily beneath us, but the quiet didn't ease the weight pressing against my chest.

Across from me, Nova sat calm and composed, her legs crossed and her posture almost too relaxed as she gazed out the window into the void of night.

I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. My eyes narrowed as I studied her, trying to dissect the enigma she presented.

Did she have anything to do with the ambush tonight? It was a question I couldn't let go of. I'd told Lee to keep an eye on her during their watch duty—discreetly, of course.

Lee had texted me hours ago, confirming there had been nothing suspicious on her end. That should've been enough to put my mind at ease, but trust wasn't something I gave lightly.

She was too new, too unpredictable. If tonight's ambush had any ties to her, it would take more than her serene exterior to convince me otherwise.

I shifted my gaze to the darkness outside the window, trying to piece together what had happened. The ambush might not have been about her, but it wasn't just about the necklace, either. No, this was bigger. I could feel it.

It wasn't only my safety they were concerned about when Lee insisted I leave tonight. I knew the deeper reason: to keep this incident under wraps.

To ensure that the others didn't hear about it.

The Valahia Syndicate was built on unshakable power and order, but cracks like this—an ambush on one of its leaders—could create waves. And waves weren't good for anyone.

The Syndicate wasn't just mine; it belonged to five families, all tied by blood. We were more than just business partners; we were kin. My father, as the eldest of the five siblings, had been the Syndicate's main leader for decades.

He was the one who had founded the Valahia Syndicate back in Romania, turning a modest family enterprise into a global empire that spread its influence across continents.

Romania was the Syndicate's heart, its roots. But America—that was its crown. It was there that the Syndicate had grown even larger, weaving its way into high society, politics, and finance. My father had been the architect of that expansion, the force that had brought us from obscurity to dominance.

Back in his prime, he was unstoppable. Charismatic, cunning, and ruthlessly intelligent, he'd forged alliances with other powerful mafias and influential figures—people whose names alone carried weight in the underworld and beyond.

He had negotiated deals that others thought impossible, neutralized threats before they could fester, and built an empire that outlasted its rivals.

His legacy wasn't just in the wealth or power he accumulated; it was in the stability he created. The Syndicate was his monument, a testament to his vision and strength. Even now, years after he'd stepped back from active leadership, his name still carried a weight that could silence a room.

But that legacy came with expectations—expectations I'd inherited. As his son, it was my job to maintain that power, to ensure the Syndicate remained untouchable.

Tonight's ambush threatened that. If word got out to the other families, they'd start asking questions. Questions I wasn't ready to answer.

I shifted my focus back to Nova. She hadn't moved, her gaze still fixed on the night outside. If she noticed my scrutiny, she didn't show it. Was she a pawn in someone else's game, or did she have her own hand in the chaos tonight?