Page 59 of Bound in Ruin

I can hear Dante’s breathing hitch, the sudden, frantic rustle of fabric as cold sweat breaks out on his skin. Before he can find his voice to utter another word, I hang up the phone.

I instantly hit the speed dial for Keane.

"Dominic," Keane answers.

"Dante was bribing Sterling through a proxy," I order cleanly. "The proxy is dead. Now I need every piece of dirt, every hidden asset, every secret, and every scandal you can find on Judge Arthur Sterling. I want enough leverage on that man to own his soul as soon as possible."

"On it," Keane replies without hesitation. "I'll have a full file on your desk before dawn."

"Good."

I end the call, tossing the phone onto the console. I lean my head back against the leather headrest, letting out a long sigh into the quiet cabin, before twisting the ignition and driving back home to my wife.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ROSALIA

I clip the leash onto Yapper’s collar and head down the grand staircase, letting the puppy trot happily beside me.

Dominic has been gone for hours, and there's still no sign of him. It’s well into the nighttime now, the sky turned a bruised shade of violet, and both Yapper and I desperately need to stretch our legs.

Not that I'm waiting up for Dominic. I couldn't care less where he is or what dark, dangerous business he's tending to in the middle of the night. I just want some fresh air.

We wander down the winding paved driveway toward the massive iron security gates. Usually, the guards on duty step out, cross their arms, and politely—but firmly—remind me of Dominic's strict orders never to step foot off the estate grounds without an armed escort.

But as I approach the entrance, to my absolute shock, the two guards at the booth simply nod respectfully, punch the button, and let the heavy iron gates swing wide open. They don't say a word. They don't try to stop me.

A sudden, thrilling rush of excitement surges through my chest. If Dominic were home, this never would have happened in a million years. I've been confined to this gilded fortress for what feels like an eternity, only ever leaving when he has somewhere specific to take me.

I don't waste a single second. I step right past the threshold and onto the quiet, asphalt road outside the estate.

The evening breeze is cool against my face, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of the surrounding woods. I walk down the quiet stretch of road, Yapper scampering happily beside me, sniffing at the tall grass along the curb.

Suddenly, a small squirrel darts across the pavement, and Yapper lets out a ferocious little bark, straining against his collar as he tries to give chase.

I tighten my grip on the leash, letting out a bright, genuine laugh as I pull him back. "Nice try, little guy, but you're not catching that."

Before the laughter can even clear my throat, a large, black van screeches around the dark curve ahead, its tires wailing against the pavement.

It pulls up sideways, blocking the road just twenty feet away.

The side door violently slams open. Three men in dark clothes and tactical masks leap out, the steel blades of long knives flashing under the dim streetlights.

My heart drops into my stomach, pure adrenaline surging through my veins. I instantly fall back into a defensive stance, my eyes darting between them.

As they close the distance, I try to pull Yapper back and run. They're moving in a coordinated flank, trying to grab my arms, to corner me, to throw me into the back of that van.

I realize they aren't trying to kill me. They are trying to take me.

"Get off me!" I scream, driving my heel hard into the shin of the first man who lunges for my wrist. He grunts, stumbling backward, but the second man grabs my arm from behind, his rough fingers digging brutally into my skin.

I twist violently, driving my elbow back into his nose with everything I have. Bone crunches, and he lets out a muffled curse, loosening his grip just enough for me to tear free.

Before the third man can grab my waist, a high-pitched, furious growl echoes through the air. Yapper doesn't run. The tiny puppy launches himself forward with terrifying courage, sinking his sharp little teeth right into the ankle of the third attacker.

"Gah! Fucking rat!" the man shouts, stumbling backward, wildly shaking his leg to kick the dog off.

It buys me two precious seconds. I draw back my fist and swing straight for the eyes of the man lunging at me next, fighting with every drop of defiant rage left in my body. But the impact barely registers before the man recovers, diving forward to pin my arms behind my back in a brutal vice grip.