Fatally Yours

Chapter 57

•DOMINIK•

I shoved the door open and stepped into the empty room, my chest heaving, rage burning through every inch of me like wildfire. The door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing off the cold, bare walls of the warehouse. 

Before I knew what I was doing, my hands grabbed the edge of the iron table in the middle of the room, and I flipped it over with a roar.

The metal screeched against the concrete as it crashed onto its side, papers scattering across the floor like the ashes of everything I'd believed in. 

It wasn't enough. 

I smashed my fist into the closest chair, splintering the cheap wood and sending it skidding across the room. My boots crushed the broken pieces as I kicked them out of the way, my breaths ragged and sharp.

Everything inside me—anger, betrayal, heartbreak—clawed at my insides like a wild animal desperate to get out. 

"Indiana Reece." I spat her name like poison, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. 

Not Nova.

Not the woman I had brought into my home, into my life—into my heart. None of it had been real. She wasn't the woman I thought she was.

She was working with the FBI. A rat. A liar. 

A traitor. 

I slammed my palm against the wall, my hand aching from the force, but I didn't care. It was my fault. I was the idiot who let this happen. I'd let her in, let her get close—too close. I'd trusted her when I trusted no one.

And worse, I'd fallen in love with her. 

My stomach twisted painfully at the thought. 

She played me. Me. 

Dominik Vitale, leader of the Valahia Syndicate. A man who could spot a liar from a mile away, who never let his guard down for anyone. But she—Indiana—had fooled me.

She'd crawled beneath my skin, whispered her lies into my ear, made me believe she was something she wasn't. 

I sank onto the edge of the upturned table, staring blankly at the window in the corner of the room. My vision blurred, and I blinked hard, but it didn't stop the sting behind my eyes. Tears burned there, but I refused to let them fall. 

Everything about her had been a lie. 

Her name. Her face. Her touch. 

All the moments I'd held onto—the nights we'd spent together, the way she laughed, the way she'd looked at me like I was someone worth knowing—it had all been a carefully crafted illusion. 

Who the hell had I fallen in love with?

I dragged a hand through my hair, clenching my jaw until it ached. But despite the anger boiling beneath the surface, there was something else. 

Concern.

I hated myself for it, but the image of her on the ground, blood dripping from her split lip, her face bruised and beaten, kept flashing in my mind.

Watching Katarina hit her had twisted something in my chest, something I couldn't ignore. My instincts had screamed at me to stop it. To step in and shield her from the blows. To pull her behind me and make it all go away. 

But I hadn't. 

Instead, I'd stood there. Cold. Still. Watching her take every hit, every insult, every ounce of anger she'd earned with her lies.