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Dominic POV
As I make my way back home, I receive another notification. By now, I can easily identify when it's Lacie texting me because I've assigned her a distinct special sound.
I'm still annoyed with her.I understand that she mentioned needing space, and despite it bothering me, I respected her request.
What didn't help was when Kiera came over and said that shit.
"So she's not coming back?" Kiera had asked about a day later.
I was in a foul mood and very annoyed with Kiera. She had apologized to me over and over for what she said to Lacie. She had tried to get me to sleep with her, and I really wanted to, just to relieve some stress and take my mind off things. Despite my carnal instincts, I just wasn't in the mood otherwise.
After about the third day of Lacie not calling me or reaching out, I did feel slighted.
"Maybe she moved on, Dominic. She probably has a boyfriend or something that you don't even know about," Kiera said to me.
At that moment, I was already annoyed, and this made me feel worse. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I mean, if she has a boyfriend, whatever, but why would she lie about that to me?
Also, is Lacie really the kind of person who would run around if she's in a committed relationship? Is Lacie that person?
Personally, I don't care, but there's something icky about girls who do that, especially if their boyfriends don't know.
That could never be me.
Suddenly, after ruminating on what Kiera said, I started to feel sick to my stomach.
I guess Kiera was trying to make me feel better, so she took out my dick and started sucking before I could stop her... but I felt so numb I didn't want to stop her.
I decided that I was going to say 'fuck it'. All Lacie had to say was she didn't want to be friends. She didn't have to go through all that shit. I remember how angrily I came inside Kiera's mouth while thinking about Lacie and how stupid she made me feel.
Kiera glanced up at me and flashed a smile. Perhaps she noticed that I wasn't reciprocating the smile, so she gently rubbed my legs.
"You're too good for her anyway, Dominic. Besides, it's not like you want to sleep with her, so it's best to stop leading her on, right? What she really needs is someone else to make her feel good, someone who can actually give her what she wants. Us girls need that."
At that moment, I glared at Kiera.
Why the FUCK would she say that to me?
I have no idea why that made me so fucking furious, but I instantly stood up with my erection still lingering, not completely subsided, and stormed away from her and slammed the door to my studio so hard I thought I broke it.
I recall spending the entire day locked inside my studio.
It's been 15 days since I've seen Lacie. Fuck her! I'm glad...
...
No, I'm not.
I feel fucking awful.
She said we were friends.
I feel FUCKING awful!
She probably has a new guy friend.
Well, fine. I don't give a fuck. She's free to do whatever she wants.
As I come to a halt at a red light, I snap out of my thoughts.
For a brief moment, I glance over at my phone, a smirk on my face. Despite feeling absolutely terrible right now, I despise how it still manages to bring me joy to hear from her.
Last Tuesday, when she called me, I wanted with everything inside me to tell her I missed her and I wanted to see her, but I was also angry at her for fucking ghosting me.
A confusing whirl of sensations bombarded me, and on one hand, I wanted to rejoice at hearing her voice, but on the other hand, that devilish conscience was telling me she was playing me.
I'm not someone who gets played.
Maybe I was letting my guard down a little bit too far with her.
I had experienced a strong desire to just block her... but I could never bring myself to. I remember last week when I was in my studio all day, I only came out to get a bottle of alcohol because I was just so tired of thinking about everything. I needed to relax.
I remember staring at the phone at the profile picture I had set for Lacie. Thoughts of her beautiful smile and her hugging up against me assaulted my mind.
"Fuck you Lacie. I didn't want to be friends with anyone anyway," I had said, swaying from the effects of the alcohol even as I was sitting and holding my finger over the 'block' button.
I just couldn't do it, no matter how drunk I got. I vaguely remember tossing my phone across the room and sinking into depression, not completely understanding why.
"... she moved on...."
"..... need space......"
I couldn't blame her. Maybe that was her way of trying to break away from me being a monster. Maybe, in her mind, she didn't want to hurt my feelings, so she felt she had to lie.
But then she called me days after we hadn't seen each other and told me how sorry she was and that she wanted to see me. I'm so confused. The old part of me doesn't trust her or anyone else.
But this confusing part of me misses her like crazy, and I want to trust her despite the very real possibility that she could be messing with me.
I look at my phone and read her text.
Lacie: i know ur not talkijiuohng to me but ddi u send someone to my house???
The light turns green, and I put down my phone. I pull over into an empty parking spot. I didn't really get a good look at the text, but something makes me feel uneasy.
I reach for the phone once more and read the text, and my heart starts to feel as if it's on the verge of escaping my body. My breathing becomes erratic, with shallow breaths, and my adrenaline surges.
For some reason, the way she texted makes me feel unnerved. I start texting, but then I think better of it and call her.
I hear her pick up the phone, but she's not talking.
"Lacie???" I say, noticing the anxiety in my voice.
I hear a slamming on her end. I hear her scream, and I hear a male voice. WHO THE FUCK!!?
I see red and hit the throttle on my Bugatti, taking off like a rocket.
I'm going so fast and driving so recklessly that I actually expect cops to stop me. I want them to tail me so they can follow me to her house.
I told her that place wasn't safe.
I fucking TOLD HER!!
I don't know why, but it sounds like she was in her house, and I assume she is based on the text.
I dial 911 and give them the address to Lacie's house. I don't exactly know what to tell them, but I let them know that there's a woman being attacked.
Each minute that passes by as I'm driving feels like an hour.
I see a red light up ahead, and I pedal to the metal. My adrenaline surges as I cut through the red light, eliciting a chorus of car horns from frustrated drivers. I swear I came this close to flattening some random ass people who think they're invincible and can just jump out into the road without looking.
I don't give a fuck. My only directive is to reach her. I'll deal with whatever comes later.
A torrent of a million thoughts races through my mind:
Finding her dead or bleeding out on her floor.
Going to her house to find out she had been abducted.
Oh my God, please.
Suddenly, my pettiness feels like I wasted a copious amount of time. I could have been with her. I could have FUCKING been with her!!
If something happens to her...
The morbid thought crosses my mind about driving my Bugatti off a bridge.
I don't know why my mind goes there, and I haven't had thoughts like that in a very long time.
Everything blurs around me as my car clears over 200 mph.
"Please, God."
Finally, I'm in the crackhead neighborhood, and I drift around the corner as I race down her street. I feel my Bugatti hit the curb and jump up onto the sidewalk as I slide it to a stop.
I quickly get out of my car. I can hear sirens in the distance, growing louder by the moment.
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Lacie POV
As soon as my phone restarts, it starts blaring. My heart races even more than I thought possible. I glance down and see a number.
However, for some reason, the number appears as unknown. I'm desperately hoping it's 911 returning my call. I attempt to answer the phone, repeatedly pressing the button, but my phone refuses to respond!! DAMN IT!!
Seriously considering a lawsuit against the phone company, I notice the timer for the call has begun. Hoping that 911 will understand the situation as I remain silent on the line, I hold the phone screen against my chest, partly to muffle the speaker in case the intruder can hear it.
I hear heavy footfalls right outside my bedroom door. I close my eyes tightly and suddenly, I'm thrown back as the door violently swings open, hitting me. The intruder had kicked it open; the feeble sliding lock had done nothing to keep me safe.
The individual swiftly disarms me of the knife before I even get the opportunity to use it and then grabs the phone out of my hand and hangs up. My terror is indescribable! His actions are so swift that the thought crosses my mind that he's a hitman and has done this many times.
"You're so fucking dramatic," he snarks.
I sit on my bed, just staring up at this unknown person in horror.
Is he going to rape me? He has my phone, and he took my knife. I see him stare at me up and down for a moment as I lie back on my bed and cower.
"Ha, don't flatter yourself. You're not my type."
I watch as he takes off his hoodie but leaves his ninja mask over his mouth and nose. His hair, a tousled mass of near jet-black strands, is revealed.
I'm jolted into a stunned silence, and a few minutes pass in eerie quietness as he prowls around, his movements resembling that of a predator.
"My father's best friend owns this building," he finally says after a while.
I just stare at him dumbfounded.
"So you thought it would be a good idea to break and enter and terrorize his tenant?"
"Terrorize?"
"Bro, you cannot be that dumb."
"I just don't have time for the bullshit, and you better watch how you talk to me."
I observe his slow and thorough exploration of the house, his gaze sweeping over everything and occasionally lifting objects that belong to me, examining them closely. Although I'm cautious not to make any abrupt movements, I can't help but consider that if he had intentions of harming me, he likely would have already. I mean, he could just be crazy.
However, as he continues to handle my belongings, my patience wears thin.
"GET THE HELL OUT!"
"Lacie, Lacie, Lacie. You need a roommate, right?"
"...WHAT?!"
"You need a roommate."
"HUH???? What does that have to do with anything?"
I'm now getting off my bed and staring at him, making sure he doesn't steal anything. The fact that he knows my name at all makes me suspect. Also, how did he...
"Also, how do you know who I am or what I need?"
"My father mentioned you were looking for one."
"WHO THE FUCK is your father?"
"I just assumed you were one of his prostitutes or something. But looking at you... I can see that's not the case," he articulates, his tone smooth and casual, as if he's not conversing with another human being.
I don't get what he's supposed to mean by that, but I know it's an insult.
"Can you please take the mask off your face?" I ask, wondering what he looks like.
His insistence on keeping it on gives me the unsettling impression that he's planning to do something that would necessitate his remaining anonymous.
He responds with a curt, "No. Are you going to be staying here?"
"I plan on it, but you're not going to be my roommate. The hell?"
"Well, I can pay for the place on my own, so I don't necessarily need you. And yeah, it's a bit of nepotism and all that. It's a cute piece-of-shit property, but not bad. My father said it comes with 'the black girl' unless you want to leave. So, do you want to leave?"
"I'm so confused right now. Why are you here, and if your father's best friend owns this property... why are you trying to..."
I rub my temples and inhale slowly, completely confused and trying to process the situation.
"My family is... um... yeah, it doesn't matter. I'll be happy for you to get out, but if you want to stay, we can split the rent. It's up to you, I don't care," he replies, exuding an air of indifference as though this conversation is extremely dull to him. He sets both the knife and my phone down on the nearest windowsill by the door, then gradually walks back towards me, all while continuing to evaluate the surroundings.
I just stare at this person, and then I look towards my front door because I'm so sure that this is a prank or some kind of social experiment.
It has to be.
I glance at him once more, and then I burst into laughter.
"Get out, bro," I say, waving him away and laughing, my nerves just about having had enough and convinced this is a prank.
I move closer to him, attempting to guide him toward the door, but suddenly, he seizes my wrists and forcefully pushes me against the nearest wall.
"Don't ever fucking put your hands on me," he warns in a threatening undertone, and I can see the rage in his dark eyes that look like they're almost black.
I hear a strange sound outside, and a haunting thought crosses my mind. What if he has more friends? What if he actually does mean me harm?
Suddenly, both of us jump as my front door suddenly blasts open, almost off its hinges.
I'm confused for a moment when I look up and see Dominic wild and crazy in the threshold of my door, looking at both of us.
I have never seen him look like this ever!
His eyes are wide open and insane, resembling those of a crazed animal.
He looks at me and then briefly takes note of the masked intruder's hands wrapped around my wrists. Then, my heart almost jumps out of my mouth when he holds up a gun in perfect form, like a cop.
"Get the FUCK off her, BITCH!" he yells so loud it almost sounds like a roar.
The intruder quickly lets go and puts his hands up in the air.
"Bro. You seriously going to shoot me over this? I li-"
"-I DON' GIVE A FUCK MOTHAFUCKA! GET THE FUCK BACK!!!!" Dominic belts out with that strange accent.
"Dominic!" I yell, trying to calm him down.
I believe this guy and what he said, and the last thing I want is for Dominic to go to jail for killing someone. I'm actually so confused right now because I'm trying to process him being here in front of me, holding a gun at this guy's head while my door is busted and swinging open. It looks like something out of a movie scene.
I almost want to laugh because of how ridiculous it is, but I'm also terrified seeing how enraged Dominic is. The closest I've ever seen him to this is when I almost got hit by that bus.
"Yeah, you feel real big with that gun, don't you, PUSSY!" the intruder taunts with a sneer.
I observe as Dominic raises his shirt, concealing the gun behind his waistband.
And then something scares me. I watch as Dominic's face just goes dead.
He strides up, slowly and menacingly, to the intruder, positioning himself in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at him intently.
The intruder, with that same quickness he used to disarm me, bursts into action and attempts to tackle Dominic, but is struck by sheer horror as he realizes the tall man before him remains steadfast, unyielding. In hindsight, it's almost comical; he appears as if he's just collided headfirst with an immovable brick wall.
Dominic uses the attack as an excuse to unleash absolute hell on this intruder.
I stand witness to Dominic's lightning-fast actions as he delivers a punch to the intruder's throat while simultaneously sweeping the guy's legs out from under him, executing it all in one seamless motion. He straddles the intruder like a lion overpowering a gazelle, pulls down the guy's ninja mouth mask thing, and I hear the dull smack of fist connecting to nose.
There is a cacophony of grunts and animalistic growls emanating from Dominic, as he repeatedly draws his fist back, mercilessly pounding it into the intruder's face, blow after blow after blow.
I watch his fists become bloodied, and as I'm calling his name, all I can see is a look of absolute primal rage on his face. It's almost like he's not human anymore, but a vampiric monster pulverizing the skull of an unsuspecting human.
"DOMINIC, STOP!" I scream.
I notice the guy's bloody and mangled face, and he has stopped moving. Dominic won't stop, though. I don't want him to go to jail, and he's going to kill this guy.
I quickly put my arms around his neck, trying to pull him off of the intruder, but nothing I do can make him budge short of permanently hurting him.
A thought crosses the back of my mind at how eerily powerful Dominic is. I am literally trying to tackle him off of the guy and he... will... not... move. It's almost like he's made of cast iron or something. How?
I can't help but contemplate that someone with his strength and steadfastness could easily excel as a football player if he chose to pursue that path. The bewilderment intensifies as I ponder how he can withstand and remain unyielding despite any force being exerted against him.
"DOMINIC STOP!!!!"
I try hitting him and pulling his hair, but it's as though the only purpose in life that Dominic has right now is to flatten this guy's face with his fist. I can see chunks of something on Dominic's fist, and I now realize that pieces of the guy's skin or whatever the hell it is are coming off.
I try slapping Dominic's face and driving my nails into his back, but it's like he can't feel pain.
"DOMINIC!!!!!"
I hear sirens getting closer. No, no, no.
"DOMINIC!!!!!!! NICKY!!!!! STOP!" I scream, crying.
Oh my God, I'm actually going to watch him kill someone in front of me.
For some inexplicable reason, my mind flashes back to that silly Italian app I used when I was trying to decipher what Dominic muttered in his sleep. I had explored some of the words to see if I could recognize them. I recall the word for "stop." It's strange that this particular memory resurfaces at this critical moment, but I decide to give it a try.
Once again, I kneel in front of him.
"DOMINIC, STOP!"
He keeps smashing his fist into the guy's face, which now sounds like macaroni in a pot.
"SMETILLA!!!! SMETILLA!!!"
To my absolute surprise, Dominic's fist remains suspended as his eyes refocus and look into mine. He blinks rapidly as if he's himself again and completely confused as to what's going on.
He releases jagged breaths, and his bloody fist lowers. He looks into both my eyes. I can tell he wants to say something, but he probably doesn't even know how to talk right now. Dominic, still straddling the seemingly unconscious man, places both his hands on either side of the guy's head. He then closes his eyes, drawing in heavy breaths, appearing as though he's attempting to regain his equilibrium.
I can't believe the Italian worked.
I hear cops outside. I can't believe this is happening.
I look down at the bloody guy and I just pray that he's okay.
"Dominic, get up," I tell him urgently.
I don't want the cops to shoot him.
As the cops enter my house, I hear them barking orders at us to put our hands up. It must look strange with this guy pulverized on my floor while both of us stand over him.
Dominic looks the most incriminating with his bloody fist.
They keep their guns trained on Dominic, and he calmly informs them about the firearm tucked in the back of his pants. Time seems to warp, moving both in slow motion and too swiftly at once.
Dominic wears a distant, vacant expression in his eyes. He glances over at me, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he's in some altered state of mind, akin to the haze of inebriation.
I observe as they handcuff him and escort him out of the premises. Both officers appear diminutive in comparison to his imposing stature.
My dragon. They've captured my dragon.
They place him in the back of their police car, and I find myself gazing at his Bugatti, haphazardly parked on the curb at a diagonal angle.
Oh my God. I should have never texted him.
As they put him in the back of the cop car, I walk over to him, still unsure of what to do.
"I... I'm sorry," I mumble, my confusion and sense of being lost evident in my voice.
"Lacie."
My voice quivers as I repeat, "I'm sorry," and tears begin to well up.
"Lacie..." he says gently through the cop car window.
For some reason, seeing him sitting there and looking at him through the bars as he's cuffed makes my heart break immensely.
I can't believe this is happening right now. Why is he smiling up at me?
"My keys are in the car. You still have my house key, right?"
"Um, yeah?"
"You can stay at my place. Listen to me," he says soothingly. "I'm going to be fine."
I wish I could believe that. I know he has money, and he can get a good lawyer, but he went beyond what was necessary in there, and I know that part of it was because he lost himself.
"By the way..." he interjects with a charming smile.
I stop crying momentarily to look at him.
"I... I really missed you."
Despite myself, I start laughing, and he starts chuckling too. I don't know why, but he seems so at ease right now, as if this is not the first time he's sat in a cop car. There's a side to him that just feels... different.
"How are you so calm right now?"
He just looks up at me as the cops get ready to enter the vehicle.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move," one of the officers informs me.
"From my house?!" I exclaim, taken aback.
The officer chuckles.
"I mean, that's up to you, but I mean, away from the car. That officer over there has some questions for you."
"Okay."
The ambulance had arrived at some point, and I didn't even process it. I can see some of the neighbors down the street standing outside their houses before slinking back in to hide.
I go over to where they're wheeling away the guy who was in my house. They have an oxygen mask over him, but it barely fits because of how swollen his face is.
"Is he going to be okay?" I ask the emergency responder.
"Yeah, I think he'll be fine," the responder reassures me. "He's stable right now, and his vitals seem fine at the moment, so we'll see. Are you his girlfriend?"
"Um, no," I reply.
I ask them which hospital they're taking him to. They tell me before they leave. Not long after, I watch as the cop car containing Dominic drives off with him.