Chapter 4 A Glimpse Of His World

ISLA

I didn't sleep again.

Not because of fear this time... but because of him.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands again. His mouth. The way his voice wrapped around me like silk and chains at the same time.

I hated that he touched me without permission.

I hated that I let him.

And I hated that part of me wanted him to do it again.

The room stayed dark for hours, the only light coming from a narrow strip above the door. I tried to think, to strategize, to remind myself that he was the villain-not some tortured man I could fix or understand.

But my body refused to listen.

I felt like I was betraying myself just by remembering.

I sat up when the door clicked open again.

Dominic stepped inside.

He was dressed in a sharp, black button-down, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His dark hair was still wet from a recent shower, and he looked like he'd stepped out of a dream meant to destroy me.

I curled my fingers into my lap.

"You didn't run again," he said, voice calm.

"I'm not stupid," I muttered. "You've got electricity and eyes everywhere."

His lips lifted slightly. "You're learning."

"I'm surviving."

"Same thing in my world," he said simply. "Get up."

I didn't move.

He stepped closer, tilting his head.

"You can walk on your own, or I can carry you," he said, softly but with iron in his tone. "You choose."

I stood.

Barefoot. Head high.

But I didn't look at him.

"Where are you taking me now?" I asked.

He smirked. "Outside."

---

DOMINIC

She didn't realize what a turning point this was.

Letting her out was risky. Reckless.

But fear wasn't the only tool in my arsenal. Control came in layers. And sometimes, the best way to trap a bird was to make it think the cage no longer existed.

I led her down the hallway, ignoring the curious glances of my men.

She looked like a ghost in that hallway light-fragile but stubborn, angry but... torn.

Perfect.

We stepped into the underground garage, where my black matte Aston Martin waited.

She hesitated.

"What is this?" she asked. "A drive to my execution?"

I chuckled. "Tempting. But no. You're coming with me to a meeting."

"What kind of meeting?"

"Business."

She crossed her arms. "And you're bringing your prisoner to show off?"

I leaned down until my mouth was at her ear.

"I'm bringing my woman," I murmured. "There's a difference."

Her breath caught.

And she didn't speak again until we were on the road.

---

ISLA

The city looked the same.

The cars. The skyline. The people.

But I felt different.

Like I was seeing it through a one-way mirror. Like I wasn't part of it anymore.

The world moved on, unaware that I was caged in the backseat of a devil's car.

Dominic didn't speak much while he drove. One hand on the wheel. The other resting casually near the gearshift.

Relaxed.

In control.

I kept glancing at the road signs, memorizing the path. But I already knew-there was no escaping him. Not while this bracelet still clung to my wrist like a brand.

After twenty minutes, we pulled into a private lot behind what looked like a nightclub.

Two guards opened the doors for us.

Dominic took my hand before I could protest and led me inside.

The hallway smelled like cologne and leather and secrets.

Low lights. Velvet walls. The occasional moan behind a closed door.

I stiffened.

"What is this place?" I whispered.

"A club," he said. "For men like me."

My stomach twisted.

"You mean criminals."

He didn't deny it.

Instead, he leaned down again and whispered, "You'll stay beside me. Don't speak unless I tell you to. And if anyone touches you..."

He looked at me, eyes dark as obsidian.

"I'll kill them."

---

The main lounge was lavish.

Gold accents. Private booths. Men in tailored suits, women on their laps like ornaments.

Everyone turned when Dominic entered.

A hush.

A ripple of fear and recognition.

He owned the room the moment he stepped inside. Like a king among predators.

He didn't introduce me.

He didn't need to.

They all looked at me and knew.

I was his.

And part of me... felt a strange flicker of pride.

Why?

Because they feared him. Because in a room full of powerful men, he was the one they bowed to.

He guided me to a booth in the corner. Two men were already seated there.

One older, with a scar on his temple and a cane. The other younger, with a wicked smile and eyes like knives.

They both stood as Dominic approached.

"Roman. Silas," he greeted.

"Dom," said the older one. "You brought a date."

"She's not a date," Dominic replied. "She's mine."

The younger man's smile widened as his eyes slid to me.

I looked away quickly.

"Beautiful," he said. "Does she speak?"

"She obeys," Dominic said coldly.

The lie made my jaw clench.

Roman chuckled. "You always did like them fiery. Reminds me of your mother."

Dominic didn't react to that.

But the air shifted.

Tense.

Unspoken histories passed between them like smoke.

They talked business after that. Weapons. Territories. Numbers.

I listened.

And learned.

This wasn't just a criminal empire-it was organized warfare. Cold. Calculated. Ruthless.

I kept quiet.

Until Silas touched my arm.

Just lightly.

Barely a brush.

But it was enough.

Dominic moved faster than I could process.

His hand gripped Silas's wrist, twisting it until a crack echoed through the room.

Silas cursed, clutching his hand.

Dominic didn't flinch.

"She's not yours," he said, voice low. "Touch her again, and I'll break more than your wrist."

Silas laughed through the pain. "Still possessive as ever."

Roman raised a brow. "She must be worth it."

"She is," Dominic said, eyes never leaving mine.

---

ISLA

I couldn't breathe.

Not because of the violence-but because of the way he looked at me.

Like I was something priceless.

Like I was his crown.

Not a prisoner.

A queen.

And for one terrifying second, I believed it.

The way those men backed down, the way their tones shifted when Dominic spoke-it was like being under the protection of a god. Dark, twisted, terrifying... but powerful.

And I didn't hate it.

After the meeting, we returned to the car.

Silence again.

But this time, it was charged.

"I saw the way you looked at me," he said suddenly.

I glanced at him. "You're imagining things."

"No," he said, voice calm. "I never imagine what I can feel."

I turned my face to the window. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're fighting yourself," he said. "That every time I touch you, you hate how much you feel."

My chest tightened.

"I will never belong to you," I whispered.

His voice dropped to a growl. "You already do."

I turned to face him, eyes blazing.

"Then why haven't you taken me yet?" I snapped. "If I'm yours, why are you still waiting?"

His eyes flicked toward me, intense.

"Because when I finally do," he said, "I want you to beg for it."