Fangs & Fire

Chapter 10: Something Bigger

Amara couldn't sleep. It was just after 6 a.m. when she finally gave up, staring at the ceiling in the dimly lit room. Olivia was next to her, snoring softly, her face relaxed in deep sleep. For the first time in days, Amara felt a strange sense of safety, the kind she hadn’t realized she missed so much. She slowly got up, careful not to disturb Olivia, and made her way to the kitchen, her feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floors.

When she reached the kitchen, she was surprised to see Dominic standing at the island. He was holding a glass, his back turned to her, and for a moment, she thought it was wine. As she got closer, though, she noticed the empty blood bag beside him. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what she was looking at.

Dominic noticed her presence immediately. His eyes flicked over to her, and before she could even fully process the sight, he swiftly grabbed the bag and slipped it into the trash can beside the counter.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked casually, as if nothing was amiss.

Amara paused for a moment, her voice quiet as she replied, “It’s been difficult, considering everything that’s happened.” She couldn’t quite keep the weariness out of her tone. After a beat, she asked, “What about you? Did you sleep okay?”

Dominic didn’t hesitate. “I don’t sleep,” he said, his voice cool and steady.

Amara’s curiosity piqued, she leaned against the counter, her brow furrowing. “What do you do during the night, then?”

He glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I go to work,” he said simply. “I make my rounds at the hospital, ensuring everyone is up to my ethical standards. And when I’m not doing that, I’m on the phone, managing overseas projects.”

Amara took a deep breath, processing everything, trying to piece together the strange world Dominic inhabited. She glanced at the empty blood bag in the trash, her thoughts swirling, but she kept the questions to herself—for now.

Dominic took a long pause, his eyes briefly flicking to the window before meeting Amara’s gaze. “I thought about your request a bit more,” he began, his tone thoughtful but firm. “And because of what’s been happening right now, I don’t think it’s safe to bring you near your family, or where they live.”

Amara’s heart sank a little, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but Dominic wasn’t done yet. He gave her a small, measured smile. “But,” he continued, “I think it’s important for you to see your family at the same time. So, I’ve come up with a solution.”

Amara leaned in, curiosity piqued, eager for the solution he was proposing. “What’s your idea?” she asked, her voice tentative yet hopeful.

Dominic glanced at her for a brief moment before speaking again. “I’ll book us all tickets to go overseas. I have a villa in Mykonos, we can all stay there together. Arthur will come too. That way, we can both keep an eye on you while still making sure you’re safe.”

Amara blinked, processing his words. Mykonos? A villa? Arthur? She could hardly grasp what he was suggesting. The idea of getting away from everything was appealing, but the weight of Dominic’s presence, of his intentions, was hard to ignore. She wanted to see her family, but the terms of this “solution” seemed overwhelming.

Dominic’s steady gaze never wavered, waiting for her response.

Amara stood there, frozen in the moment, her mind racing through the chaos of the past couple of weeks. Rick—her ex—had turned, and Arthur had been forced to kill him. The Dugo, her abduction, and now, the fact that she couldn’t even see her family without danger lingering over them all. It felt like everything in her life had unraveled in such a short time. How had it all happened? Why her? She could barely comprehend the weight of it all, the sudden loss of control, and the confusion gnawing at her from every angle.

Tears began to pool in her eyes, slowly threatening to spill over. She tried to blink them away, but the overwhelming flood of emotion was too much.

Dominic noticed the change in her immediately. He saw the tension in her shoulders and the way her eyes glassed over. He set his glass down gently, his focus entirely on her. Without a word, he reached out, cupping her cheeks with both hands, guiding her face up to meet his gaze.

He looked into her eyes, his expression softening. “Oh no, what is it? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with genuine concern.

Amara felt her breath catch in her throat, the tears threatening to spill as she stared back at him. There was something about the way he looked at her—something comforting and assuring—but the flood of emotions inside her couldn’t be contained. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words.

Amara's heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Dominic, her eyes searching for answers. “Why is this all happening to me?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly. The question hung in the air, filled with desperation and confusion.

Dominic’s expression shifted. His eyes darkened slightly, and he looked down for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. After a long sigh, he finally spoke. “I’ll explain, but I need Arthur to wake up first,” he said, his tone becoming serious.

He walked over to where Arthur was slouched on the couch, snoring heavily. Dominic’s patience was clearly thinning as he shook Arthur by the shoulder. “Arthur,” he grumbled, but the werewolf didn’t stir.

Dominic’s irritation was palpable as he kneeled down and landed a swift knee to Arthur’s rib. Still, the man didn’t budge, his snores continuing unabated. Dominic stood up, frustration etching across his features, and turned back to Amara. “A little help here?”

Amara blinked, startled, but then sprang into action. She ran to the sink, turning on the cold water, and grabbed a glass. She filled it quickly before marching over to where Arthur lay sprawled out on the couch. With a deep breath, she poured the cold water straight over his head.

Arthur sputtered, the water splashing into his mouth as he jumped up in a frenzy. “I’m not telling you s**t!” he yelled, his eyes wild and confused as he wiped the water from his face.

He quickly calmed down, realizing where he was. He looked around, seeing Amara and Dominic standing by. Slowly, he sat up, wiping the last remnants of water from his face. “What the hell?” he grumbled, still waking up, his mind trying to catch up.

Dominic gave him a pointed look. “Get up. Meet me in my office.”

Arthur groaned but finally pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his eyes. “This better be good,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Amara and Arthur sat in silence on the plush sofas, facing Dominic's wide executive desk. The room was sleek and minimalistic, the dark wood of the desk contrasting with the soft cream-colored walls. A large window occupied the entire wall behind Dominic’s desk, offering an awe-inspiring view of Manhattan, its towering skyscrapers stretching endlessly into the distance. The city seemed so far away from the quiet, tense atmosphere of the room.

The far wall behind Dominic's desk was lined with bookshelves, filled with an assortment of books. Some were medical texts, their spines neatly arranged and well-worn, evidence of years of use. Others were more peculiar, bound in dark leather with strange, faded symbols on their covers. The writing on some looked ancient, almost indecipherable, and written in a language that Amara didn’t recognize. It was as if Dominic had gathered pieces of the world—both modern and arcane—and kept them carefully organized in this room.

Amara’s gaze flickered from the books to Arthur, who was sitting tensely next to her, his arms crossed. She could tell he was uneasy, his usual confidence subdued. She too felt the weight of the moment. Everything had escalated so quickly, and now she was sitting in this office, in the middle of all of this chaos, with no answers in sight. Her eyes wandered back to Dominic, who was standing by the window, his figure outlined against the soft glow of the city skyline. He had yet to speak, as if carefully choosing the right moment. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy.

Finally, Dominic turned from the window, his gaze meeting theirs. His expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a seat behind his desk. The room felt suddenly smaller, as if the weight of the answers he was about to give had filled it completely.

Arthur sat rigidly on the edge of the sofa, his fingers drumming anxiously on the armrest, his leg shaking with pent-up tension. Amara noticed his discomfort, her gaze flicking between him and Dominic as Dominic began to speak, his tone heavy, the weight of the past hanging in his words.

“The years after the war… they were hell,” Dominic began, his eyes momentarily clouded with memories. “We thought we had finished the Dugo, wiped them out. But the truth is, we only uncovered a fraction of what they were doing.”

Amara watched carefully, sensing the strain in Dominic’s voice. She turned her attention to Arthur, who was now gripping the arm of the sofa tightly, his posture tense. He was clearly reliving something painful.

“We found things. Horrors,” Dominic continued, his voice dropping. “Mystical prisoners. Many didn’t survive the torture they endured. It was only after we raided the last Dugo den near where Arthur worked that we realized the full scale of their depravity.”

Arthur shifted beside her, his jaw tightening. His hands were white-knuckled from gripping the sofa arm so hard. Amara could feel the intensity of his emotions, the memories surfacing despite his best efforts to suppress them.

Dominic’s eyes flicked to Arthur before continuing, “Arthur was guarding someone important at the time—an elven princess, one of the last of her kind. He was her protector. But not long after Arthur joined his battalion, she went missing. The Dugo took her.”

Amara looked at Arthur, seeing the deep pain in his expression. His fists were clenched, and she could sense how much that moment still haunted him. His protective instincts, his desire to keep people safe—this had been more personal than he had let on.

Dominic leaned back slightly, his voice lowering. “Arthur did everything he could to find her. He searched, fought, but she was gone. And that’s when we started realizing just how deep the Dugo’s roots ran. It wasn’t just an army—they were hunting, capturing, torturing.”

Arthur's voice grew tight as he continued, his gaze distant as if reliving the moment. "The last day of our quest to raid the Dugo’s dens... that’s when I found her." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate breath. "The princess. She was in that godforsaken bloodletting chair, the same one they’d used to drain her for weeks, maybe more. She was barely alive, hanging by a thread."

Amara’s heart sank at the picture he painted, and she instinctively leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. Arthur’s voice became darker as he spoke, the weight of those memories pressing down on him.

“When we found her, the bucket she’d been draining into was overflowing. Her blood was all over the floor... she barely had the strength to speak, but she said something. She spoke of a prophecy. A prophecy that would save Mystic life."

Amara’s breath hitched, unsure of what to make of this. “A prophecy?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Arthur nodded solemnly. “Yes. She told us that the fate of the Mysticals, what little is left of us, rests in the hands of three people. We didn’t know what she meant at the time, but it was clear… she knew more than she let on. Her last words were a warning—there’s something big coming. And it’s tied to you, Amara. That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

Amara’s mind raced as she processed his words. “But… why me?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Arthur’s eyes softened for a moment, and he let out a slow sigh. “We’re still figuring that out. But everything that’s happened, all the danger you’ve faced, it’s all connected. You’re not just some bystander in all this. You’re part of something much bigger.”

Dominic’s gaze turned serious as he asked, “Amara, do you know anything about your birth parents?”

Amara frowned, her brow furrowing as she thought about the question. She shook her head slowly, her voice quiet as she replied, “I don’t know anything about them. I don’t remember anything before I met my foster mom, Becky. It’s all a blur before that. I think I was just too young.”

Arthur, who had been listening intently, exchanged a glance with Dominic but didn’t speak. Amara could feel the weight of their silent exchange, but she chose to focus on what she knew, or rather, what she didn't know.

"I've never even thought to look for them," she continued, her voice soft but firm. "It didn't feel like I needed to. Becky and her family—my family—they’ve been everything I’ve known. I guess... I’ve always been too scared to dig into that part of myself." She paused, looking at Dominic, as if wondering why this was even important now.

Dominic stayed silent for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on her. It wasn’t sympathy she saw in his eyes, but something else—something that she couldn’t quite place. Finally, he nodded slowly, as if processing her words.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, Amara,” he said quietly, the warmth in his voice offering her a bit of comfort. “But what you don’t know could change everything.”

Dominic leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes glinting with amusement as he addressed Arthur's protest. "Maybe we can ask them when we’re in Mykonos," he suggested, his tone cool and matter-of-fact.

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't go," he grumbled, his voice rough. "Work’s got me tied up."

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Work? You’re worried about work?" He let out a short laugh, the sound low and mocking. "I own most of this city, Arthur. And you’re worried about work?"

Arthur’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he glared at Dominic. "YOU own this city. I'm not you," he snapped.

Dominic rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Just quit," he said, the words coming easily as if it were no big deal. "You’re not fooling anyone, Arthur. You’re not falling asleep under a car and getting drunk every night because it gives you purpose, dog."

Arthur’s eyes flashed with irritation, but he didn’t argue further. The truth hung between them, and he knew Dominic was right, even if it stung. The way he had been living—the drinking, the work, the aimless wandering—it was all just a mask. But Arthur wasn’t ready to admit that just yet. Not to Dominic. Not to anyone.

Instead, he shrugged and muttered, "I’ll think about it," but his tone made it clear he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea.

Dominic glanced at Arthur before looking back at Amara with a firm but calm expression. “Don’t think too long,” he said. “We’re leaving later tonight.”

Amara quickly stood up, her excitement palpable. “Tonight?” she repeated in surprise, her heart racing. “Okay, I need to call them!” She hurried into the other room, eager to reach her family. Picking up her phone, she dialed her parents and brother, her face lighting up as she heard their voices. Her joy was evident as she made plans to reunite with them, the weight of everything that had happened lifting off her shoulders.

Arthur watched her from the couch, his gaze following her as she spoke to her family. There was a softness in the way she smiled, a kind of warmth he hadn’t seen from her before. The tension in his body, which had been so tight for weeks, slowly began to fade as he took in the sight. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that kind of lightness, the comfort that came with belonging.

Dominic, watching the exchange, saw the shift in Arthur’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow. “You see that?” he asked with a small, knowing smirk. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. We’ve still got a long road ahead.”

Arthur didn’t respond immediately. He just watched Amara, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. For once, it was as if the weight of the world was a little easier to carry.

Amara returned a few minutes later, her phone still in hand, practically glowing with happiness. “They’re in! And Olivia’s still sleeping, but she’ll be up soon. I can’t believe it’s happening so fast!” she said, her voice brimming with excitement.

Arthur gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. He wasn’t sure why, but the sight of her joy made him feel lighter. He nodded, the tension that had plagued him starting to ease just a bit.

"Go wake Olivia up,” he said over his shoulder. “We need to get ready.”

Dominic and Arthur remained in the study, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Dominic leaned back in his chair, watching Arthur carefully. He knew there was more to their history, more to Arthur than the hard exterior he presented.

“Tell me,” Dominic began, breaking the silence. “How does wolf imprinting work, exactly? What happens when a mate dies?”

Arthur didn’t immediately respond, his gaze distant as if he were lost in thought. He ran a hand through his hair, the weariness in his expression showing through despite his usual bravado.

“Wolves don’t handle it well,” Arthur finally said, his voice low. “We imprint on our mates—our true mates—so completely that when they die, we usually follow soon after. We die of grief, of loneliness. The loss is too much for us to carry. Most of the time, we can’t even hold it together long enough to survive.”

Dominic nodded, his eyes narrowing. “But not you,” he said, his tone laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, a hollow sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Never me,” he replied, his voice thick with years of buried pain. “Shitty life, shitty luck, but I’m still here. I didn’t go down with her. And I won’t.”

Dominic could feel the weight of those words hanging in the air. He’d seen Arthur endure so much, and yet, he remained a force of nature, relentless and indestructible. Maybe that’s why they’d both survived the war, why they’d both carried the burden of the mystical world on their shoulders for so long.

“Why do you think that is?” Dominic asked, his gaze never leaving Arthur.

Arthur shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe I’m just too damn stubborn to die. Or maybe it’s that I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Dominic studied him for a long moment, considering what to say next. There was something deeply buried in Arthur, something he’d never fully shared. But for now, Dominic let it go, knowing that some things would come in time.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against the armrest. “Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” he said with a faint smirk.

Arthur didn’t respond, but his lips twitched, as if the idea of their next steps was something he could feel on the horizon.