Chapter 7 - The True Name
The confrontation in the library was explosive. Dominic closed the heavy double doors, locking them from the inside before throwing the manila folder onto the table in front of her.
"Elena Marcone," Dominic said, the name dropping between them like a live grenade. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think you could bring a New Jersey mob war into the house where my children sleep?"
Elena went entirely pale, her hands trembling as she looked at the folder. The composed, unbothered facade she had maintained for months finally broke, revealing the raw, terrified fugitive beneath.
"I didn't bring anything here, Dominic!" she cried out, using his first name for the first time, her brown eyes flashing with desperation.
"I chose this house because it was the safest place in the state! The Marcones would never dare breach a Russo perimeter. I didn't take this job to use your children as a shield; I took it because I was starving, and because when I looked at those three little girls in the interview, I saw the same terrified, trapped children that I used to be. I wanted to save them!"
"You lied to me!" Dominic roared, stepping closer, his imposing frame pinning her against the mahogany bookshelves. "You brought a target to my doorstep! Victor Hoxha is in Brooklyn, Elena. He’s looking for you. If he finds out you're here—"
"He won't find out!" Elena sobbed, her tears finally spilling over her eyelids. "I’ll leave. I’ll pack my bag right now and go back to the shelters. Just... just don't tell them where I went. Don't let the girls think I abandoned them."
She turned to run toward the door, but Dominic reached out, his massive hand catching her forearm, pulling her back with effortless, crushing strength. But he didn't throw her down, and he didn't call his guards.
He pulled her straight into his chest, his arms locking around her waist, holding her so tight she could feel the frantic, heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.
"You aren't going anywhere, Elena," Dominic whispered into her hair, his voice fierce, desperate, and entirely possessive.
May you like
"The Marcones want a war? I’ll give them an annihilation. You are a Russo now. You belong to this house. You belong to my daughters. And you belong to me. Nobody touches what’s mine."
Elena froze in his embrace, her breath catching as she looked up into his piercing blue eyes. For two years, she had been running from men who wanted to own her, to use her, or to break her. But as she looked at Dominic, she didn't see a captor. She saw a protector—a king who was willing to burn the entire state of New York to the ground just to keep her safe in his kitchen.
