Dominico barked orders at the driver, his pheromones thick with anger, and it made my spine tingle. He’s mad at me. That’s why he won’t look at me. The thought twisted in my chest, making my heart ache.
I felt delirious, the world blurring around me. My emotions were crumbling, slipping through my fingers like sand. I thought back to Nikolai—how he had been the only source of comfort, if only for a fleeting moment. But even that relief had been shattered soon after.
Dominico’s presence next to me was suffocating, but at the same time, I craved it. His anger hurt more than it should. Why was he mad at me? Why didn’t he look at me?
Tears welled up, and before I could stop them, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Dominico didn’t respond. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did but didn’t care. My
