Chapter 4:Correcting Betrayals

          Domnic's Point Of View

It has been more than a year now since I last saw her.

Elena Monroe.

Or the one whom I once made whisper to me—Mr. Dominic.

There she stood again, in front of me on the opposite side of that piece of crap of an interrogation room, pretending not to remember the moment she lost everything beneath me. She wore her badge like armor, her tone cool and professional, but I saw right through it. Her hand trembled only as she reached for the file, and her eyes-her clever, smart eyes-did not catch mine for longer than a second or two at most.

It was irrefutable; she recollected every detail.

As finally they shepherded me out, I strode out into the world--like carelessness didn't matter to me--but then there was the burning pit through which I knew she saw the back of me. I longed for her to view my departure. I wanted her to feel the movement, the jeopardy. I was not the person she knew before she took off from that hotel room.

And this time, she was not going to be fleeing.

Walking down to the parking lot sounded echoing sounds of my boots on asphalt. The SUV had blacked out by the lot's edge, engine humming quietly, idling in anticipation. Leo waited behind the wheel, arm stretched across the passenger seat as if he had been waiting for hours.

I got in and stepped in. "You're in the mood to slap anything you see," he said with a careless remark, opening his eyes suddenly to me from the mirror.

I said nothing. Not yet. I looked out of the window and watched the sheen of station lights great-dance across the near black asphalt.

"Did you send the envelope?" I asked after a long, stretching silence.

Leo nodded once. "Dropped it off at the brunette's apartment. Mia, right?"

"She was always the inquisitive one," I grumbled, fussing with the cuff on my sleeve. "Best friend of Elena. I believe it was the fifth grade."

Leo whistled softly. "You did your homework."

"She is important to Elena. She is, therefore, important to me."

He remained silent. Leo had been with me long enough to know when to stay quiet. Loyalty was not merely a term to him; it was his religion.

"I want eyes on Monroe at all times," I instructed him. "I don't care if she's on duty or soaking in her dumb bathtub. I want to know what she's doing, with whom she's talking, and where she's bleeding."

Leo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And if she catches us following her?"

"She won't."

He was skeptical. "She's no ordinary cop. She's the captain, Dom. Her guys are bright and they're tight. They'll figure it out sooner or later."

Then I stood up to him. "Then don't give them something to figure out."

"Going to tell me what the hell this has to do with?" he demanded.

"This has nothing to do with the case," I replied, my voice low.

He snorted. "No shit."

"I need her to remember," I whispered to myself rather than to him. "Everything."

"Was posting that photo smart?" Leo asked. "I don't know, but that is a threat. She is a cop; she can spin that into a dozen charges." "I did not threaten!" I said in a measured tone. "I reminded her."

Leo remained silent for a moment. The silence stretched on until he did talk, but slowly this time. "You still care about her?" I balled my fist in my thigh.

"I don't care about anyone," I replied flatly.

Softest laugh from Leo, and there was not a single hint of amusement in it. "That's the biggest lie I've heard all year."

I didn't argue. I couldn't. Because I still remember how she tasted. How her voice cracked when I requested she yell my name. How her body succumbed to me when her mind tried to resist. Unlike the others. And I knew it when she stepped into Suzanne's Bar-tight black pants, hair messy in a bun, drinking whiskey as if she were choking pain I'd never see. I don't question her; she doesn't answer.  But her eyes. her eyes begged me to take control. And I did. And she ran. She left before dawn, not even looking back, and I allowed her to run because, at that moment, she was a woman in a bar with secrets in her back.

But three weeks ago, when I first read that name on a document-Captain Elena Monroe, Organized Crime Unit-everything was different.

That wasn't even about revenge; it was about truth.

There were so many things Elena didn't know about that night-that she witnessed-that I am.

"Leo," I said in that same cold voice again. "How's our inside man at the docks?"

"In place," he said. "But we've got an issue. One of Monroe's men-Michael-has started asking questions. Low-key. Probably nothing."

Michael. Ex.

I recalled his file. Upright, decorated, by-the-book kind of man. Always to the letter. I despised those types of people. They were predictable.

"Keep him close," I said. "If he goes out of bounds, make it look like an accident."

Leo nodded, but reluctantly to continue. "Dom. what's the plan here?"

I kept my gaze straight ahead, watching as the station disappeared in our rearview. "She violated her own rules that night she went into that bar. And I want her to question why."

Leo did not care for that answer. But he didn't ask it again.

Once, we backed off in silence until my phone buzzed. A text. No name.

"STAY AWAY FROM ELENA MONROE."

I scowled at the screen.

Leo glanced over. "Something I should know?"

"Not yet," I growled, locking the phone. "But keep the guns ready."

Leo grinned, and for an instant, the car felt warmer. Familiar. "She is definitely not the same girl from that bar, Dom." "I know," I said to him. "But neither am I."

And if she's attempting to keep the truth on the down-low, then she's in for a surprise. Because Dominic Castellano doesn't quietly fade away into the night.

Leo’s phone buzzed.

He checked it, then looked over at me, jaw clenched. “We’ve got a problem at the east dock.”

I didn’t even blink. “Talk.”

“The shipment came in clean, just like we planned. But a few of the boys tried taking more than their agreed share—two crates went ‘missing’ before inventory. I got word they were trying to move it themselves.”

My eyes narrowed.

“And you let them breathe long enough to tell me about it?”

Leo gave a half-smile, but there was steel behind it. “Thought you’d want to do the honors.”

I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tapping against the door. “They must be new. No one who’s worked under me long enough would make a mistake that stupid.”

“They think you’re distracted.” Leo’s voice was careful, but the message was clear.

I smiled—but it wasn’t the kind of smile anyone wanted to see.

“Then it’s time we reminded them who’s running this city,” I said, voice cold and sharp. “Set up a meeting at my bar. Let's hear what they have to say.”

Leo nodded once. “Understood.”

I turned my gaze back to the road. If anyone—rookie or veteran—thought Dominic Castellano was getting soft?

They were about to find out just how wrong they were.