Under Dome Season 4 Novels & Stories

Ten minutes later, Dominic had slipped through the cellar’s secret conduit, leaving Leo and Tess to guard the bakery. Guided by the shadow scout, he moved through the subterranean passages of Sector 4 with a speed that defied human capability. His fever was completely gone, his core fully restored by the medicine and the magical warmth of Rhea’s care.

“We are now officially entering Month Four.” Dominic moved. He picked up the remote. And turned the screen off.

She’s sealed herself away, her walls harder than stone. What if they already have a plan? I look up where the drones hover and wave, desperate, pointing at Aithon—then at my head. Hoping she’s watching. Hoping she understands. This time, when I reach, she lets me in. Relief floods me. “Eldon? How are you doing this?” “It doesn’t matter—I’m just glad it worked. How long until the dome falls?” “Twenty minutes.” “Twenty minutes? We won’t last that long.”

I remember grumbling through that inhuman training, wandering when I would even ever need it. And now—here I am. Cloaked in Eleanor’s magic, crouched at the edge of a 4000-foot vertical drop, with nothing but stone and fog stretching into forever below. Dom is first. He moves over the edge like a shadow, his body a line of silent, fluid strength. No ropes. No tech. Just muscle, instinct, and control. He disappears into the mist, the only trace of him the faint scrape of boots against stone. He glances up once and signals.

Dominic hustled through the damp service tunnel, wearing a grease-stained maintenance uniform and following the old map Alexei had shoved into his hands. The low rumble of gunfire vibrated through the ceiling. Upstairs, Hugo was turning the fourth-floor corridor into a warzone. Dominic hauled himself up the access ladder, slipping past the security sensors. Adam Leo was already looping the camera feeds to show nothing but static, keeping Rachel Moss’s defense line completely blind. Dominic pushed open the fire door, stepped into the hallway, and found Room 404. He slipped inside. The soundproof door clicked shut, muffling the gunfire to a dull thud.

"We don't comment on speculation. Next question." Another reporter, louder: "Mr. Romano, is it true your ex-wife has not been located? Can you confirm her whereabouts?" He didn't change expression. "I don't comment on family matters at a business conference. Next question." The segment cut away. I reached over and turned the television off. The room was very quiet. The pine trees outside the window made a sound when the wind moved through them, a low steady rush like static. I sat on the edge of the bed and listened to it.

Not tonight. The second DOM, a man with a scar running down the side of his face, had his submissive bent over the arm of a leather sofa. Her dress was hiked up around her waist, exposing her bare skin to the cool air. He ran his hand over her ass, caressing it almost tenderly before raising his arm and bringing his hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the room. The submissive gasped, but her sound of pain was quickly drowned out by the DOM’s low, approving growl. He spread her legs wider, positioning himself behind her as he roughly entered her, thrusting with a primal intensity that made her cry out, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa for support.

Dom told her to run for her life immediately, since she couldn't fight anymore as the aftereffects of the serum were supposed to kick in soon. She was supposed to wait for him and Iris at the entrance point from whence they had come. Clara hesitated but there was not much she could do now, so she did as told and Dom ran into the room holding his girl, only to realize that it was a trap. Iris was not in the room. The door's glass was a screen that had shown a live feed from somewhere else. Who knows if Iris was even being kept on the island?

What just happened was just a small episode that night, and no one noticed it. No, it was not that no one noticed it. The host of the party that night knew about it as he saw what just happened through the monitoring room. "Dominic, don't get close to her anymore. Come back right away." Not long ago, Dominic Cooper left Karen Joy and went to the bathroom. When he came out of the bathroom, he heard Zuriel Perth's orders through the walkie-talkie. "Why?" He didn't understand. The child had already believed in his identity. They were so close to reaching their goal, so why did he have to retreat at this time?

“Same. Dom, give me the dare.” Bella’s stomach twisted at their eagerness. She glared at him, hissing, “You’re humiliating me.” “Good.” Dom’s jaw flexed. “That’s the point. Now—” He tapped his thigh, slow, deliberate. “On your knees.” Jason leaned back, enjoying the show. “Man, she’s fighting it. I almost respect it. Almost.” Bella’s nails dug into her palms. Every part of her screamed to resist. But Dom’s stare didn’t budge. The room didn’t breathe. She felt the walls closing in, the pressure, the heat in her stomach betraying her.