Dominic’s POV
I stood there as she left. The urge to go after her nearly consumed me, but something stopped me, a bitter mix of shame and realization of the fact that I hurt her, that I pushed her away, and now, she did not want anything to do with me.
I had no right to demand anything from her. Not after what I had done.
The frustration simmered just beneath my skin, fueled by both anger and regret. Regret for the years I had let slip by without finding her, and anger at myself for being the reason she had left in the first place.
My chest felt tight as I turned back toward my mother’s house. I had come here hoping for answers, for some kind of clarity, and instead, I was left with more questions and a gnawing sense of failure.
“She’s not going to make this easy for you.”
I looked up sharply to see my mother standing on the porch with her arms crossed over her chest. She was watching me with that knowing look she always had, the one that told me she had seen and heard everything.
“Did you talk to her?” she asked.
“She wouldn’t listen,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “She’s still so angry.”
My mother raised an eyebrow. “And you’re surprised?”
I shot her a look but did not respond. What could I say? That I thought six years would be enough time for her to forgive me? That I thought I could just show up and things would fall back into place?
“Dominic,” my mother said, her voice was softer now as she stepped closer. “You can’t expect her to just forget everything that happened. You hurt her, deeply.”
“I know,” I said, my voice tight. “You don’t think I know that?”
She sighed, reaching out to place a hand on my arm. “Knowing is not enough. You have to show her you have changed. That you are willing to fight for her.”
I laughed bitterly. “And what if she doesn’t want me to fight for her? What if she’s done with me for good?”
My mother’s gaze hardened. “If you really believe that, then you don’t deserve her.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I looked away, my jaw clenched as I tried to process her words, knowing that they were true.
“She’s here, Dominic,” my mother continued. “She showed up. That means something, whether she admits it or not. But if you want any chance of making things right, you need to prove to her that you are not the same man who let her walk away.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you think she will ever forgive me?” I asked quietly, hating how vulnerable the question made me feel.
“That depends on you,” my mother said simply. “But if you want her back, you’re going to have to work for it. No shortcuts, no excuses.”
I nodded, though the weight of her words settled heavily on my shoulders.
“What should I do?” I asked, almost desperate for guidance.
She smiled faintly, patting my arm. “Start by being honest. With her and with yourself.”
I stared at her, unsure of what she meant. “I was honest. I told her how I felt—”
“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You told her you wanted answers. That is not the same as telling her how you feel.”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. She was right. I had been so focused on demanding explanations, on trying to understand why she left, that I had not taken a moment to acknowledge what I had put her through, or how I felt about her now.
“I don’t know if she will even give me the chance,” I admitted.
“That’s up to her,” my mother said. “But if you are serious about this, you won’t give up just because she is pushing you away.”
I agreed with her. “But I need your help,” I said after a moment, looking at her.
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “My help?”
“You are the only one who knows her,” I said. “Really knows her. I need to know how to reach her, how to show her that I have changed.”
My mother studied me for a long moment, as if weighing my sincerity. Finally, she nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “But do not expect this to be easy. Samantha’s strong, and she has been through more than you realize. If you want to win her back, you are going to have to earn her trust all over again.”
“I will do whatever it takes,” I said firmly.
She smiled faintly, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I hope you mean that, Dominic. Because if you don’t, you will only hurt her more, and if you do it again, this time, she will never come back.”
Later that day, I called Liam to my office after we found more evidence of the rogue attack where Samantha and Killian were ambushed.
“Come in,” I said when I heard the knock. Liam entered with a stack of reports under his arm.
“Updates from the patrols,” Liam said, setting the reports on my desk. “We’ve increased border surveillance, but the patterns are irregular. Whoever these rogues are, they are not moving like typical rogues.”
I picked up one of the reports, and skimmed through it. “And the tracker we sent to follow the trail from the last attack? Did they find anything useful?”
Liam hesitated. “Some traces, but nothing concrete. What’s strange is the level of coordination. Rogues don’t usually organize like this unless someone’s pulling the strings.”
I leaned back in my chair, my jaw tightening. “Someone with resources. And a grudge.”
Liam nodded. “Exactly. We have also cross checked the symbols carved into the trees near the ambush site. They match markings seen in rogue attacks further north, close to Kane’s territory.”
The mention of Kane made my expression darken. “You think Kane’s involved?”
“We do not know yet. It could just as easily be someone trying to stir trouble between us and Kane’s pack.”
I frowned, as I thought that the timing of the Summit was suspicious. If this was a setup, we couldn’t walk into it blind.
Then Liam cleared his throat as he delivered another news, “And about the official meeting regarding this matter, it’s most likely that Samantha would attend on Killian’s behalf since he’s gone out of the country for a while.”
I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation of seeing Samantha again, and this time, Killian would be out of the picture.