My thoughts span from doing everything I can to help Wade as quickly as possible, to organizing the logistics of how to flatline Dominic and bring him back. It’s the most ludicrous balancing act I’ve ever been put in charge of and the irony isn’t lost on me at all.
I mean, what if all of this is really pulling me away from Wade when I should be there with him? He’s no longer an Angel of Death—so that means if he dies, he’s…gone. No coming back and being born again as something else. At this point, even that would be better than this.
Suddenly, a horrible idea surfaces and I bite back my terror. Everything is stemming from his mark. The mark put there by his dad. What if he decided it was time to wipe the slate clean and kill Wade off? Would he do something like that knowing he’d be dead and gone?
Unless, of course, I was there to resurrect him. But as Dominic so aptly pointed out, I’m not necessarily the expert on it yet. I could end up making everything worse.
There’s also nothing to say that any of this will work with Dominic, either. But I guess I’m more okay with him being the guinea pig over Wade, as awful as that sounds.
I just hope that when I bring Dominic back, he’s still got his faculties and is able to do what I need him to. I mean, what if we mess with this bizarre idea of trying to trigger a metamorphosis to make him more powerful, and it backfires?
Chapter 13
Pity Party & Negotiations
The farther I get from Wade, the more my insides scream to turn back around. Instead, I push the panic aside, letting it fuel my foot as I press it to the pedal and drive as fast as I can to Windhaven.
When I reach Dominic’s house, I practically drift into his driveway, coming to a burnt halt. I honk the horn to signal I’m here, but when he doesn’t exit the building fast enough, I hop out of my vehicle and stomp up the steps to his front door.
As I lift my fist to pound on the door, it flies open. “That was fast,” Dominic says, bewilderment splattered across his face.
“I told you to be ready,” I grumble. “Let’s go.” I twist around, shoving both of my hands in the direction of Blue.
“Hang on,” Dominic says. “I have to do something quick.”
I release an exasperated sigh. “I practically broke the speed barrier to get here and now you wanna screw around?”
He shoots me an irritated glance but walks back inside anyway.
Clenching my fists, I scream internally, but follow him. Dusk has fallen and the house is dimly lit with only a couple of small lamps here and there. Dominic walks past the staircase on the right and continues his way down a hallway to what looks like a living room that’s been converted into a bedroom. There are stacks of books, magazines, and knickknacks smattered all over the room. There’s also a small dresser with drawers half open and clothing dangling out of each. The floor is a mess of plates, cups, and liquor bottles.
I step forward tentatively, eyeing the room with a new sense of suspicion. There’s a thick stench of vomit. What’s going on here?
Dominic holds his hand up as he walks over to the sofa and crouches down beside it. “Mom, I’m going to be out for a bit.”
A thin, white hand rises from behind the puffy flower-covered fabric of the sofa.
“Wheresyagoin?” Her response is slurred into a single word and it’s clear she’s the one who’s been drinking.
“Just over to Blackwood Manor for a little bit.” He shifts his gaze to me and swallows hard. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Whateryadoin o’er there?” she asks, clutching at his shoulder.
He pats her hand, removing its viselike grip and resting it with her. “I just need to help Autumn with something quick. I’ll be back before you know it,” he says, standing up and kissing her forehead. “Love you, Mom.”
She grumbles something that sounds like, “Yeah, you, too.”
He lingers there for a second longer, his face a mix of emotions. With a sharp nod, he turns on his heel and heads back over to where I stand gaping at him. I close my mouth, but his mortified expression tells me he’s not happy I followed him in.
“You coming or what?” he spits as he stalks past me.
Turning to walk out with him, I shoot one last glance over my shoulder at his mother. The last time I was there, I hadn’t noticed her. Then again, I can’t say we ventured this far into the house, either.
A pang of sympathy for Dominic stabs me in the gut. How long has he been dealing with this?
By the time I exit the front door, Dominic is already in the passenger seat and buckling himself in. I walk around my SUV with much less gusto than when I left it.
As I get into the driver’s seat and put Blue into drive, his eyes stare straight ahead of him.
“So, that was your mom, huh?” I say, finally breaking the silence.
“Yup,” he says, popping the P as a final punctuation.
I inhale sharply through my nose and exhale slowly, unsure what to say that would make things any easier for him.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. This is nothing new,” he says, giving me the side eye. When I look at him, surprised, he adds, “Your thoughts are pretty damn loud.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Right.”
We sit in tense silence as I drive toward my house.
“She wasn’t always like this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “But when Dad left her a couple of years ago…” His words dwindle out and he turns to look out the passenger-side window.
I didn’t know any of this about him and I can’t help but feel absolutely terrible about that fact.
“Dominic,” I
