Please save me,solnyshko.
Chapter 46
Gaze of the Forgotten
Isabella
It starts with the shift in energy.
Not noise. Not movement. Just... presence.
Ada stiffens first, her body tensing beside me like a wire pulled taut. Sawyer’s fingers graze the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowing toward the entrance like he’s already calculating how many seconds it would take to get up and escape the building.
And then they come.
Three men; tall, broad, and dressed in the kind of tailored black that screams quiet danger, step into the lounge. They move like a unit, in sync, with sharp eyes and tighter jaws, and they scan the room like they own it.
Because they do.
Every gaze in the room seems to slide off them instinctively, like prey pretending not to notice the predator. My pulse picks up. I don’t need Ada or Sawyer to tell me who they’re with.
He’s coming.
The moment stretches, tight and endless.
Then he appears.
Dominik.
He walks in without ceremony. No dramatic entrance. No announcement. Just a calm, dangerous quiet. Like a storm you can feel in your bones before it touches the horizon. His hair is darker now, shorter than I remember, and his face carries moreweight. Not age. Not time. Something worse.
Power.
He wears it like a second skin.
His eyes, those familiar, merciless eyes, sweep the room once. He doesn’t smile. He just walks forward, flanked by his men, like a new king returning to his court.
We stay hidden, all three of us crouched behind the cover of shadows and low lighting. Ada has one hand beneath the table, likely hovering over her weapon. Sawyer’s jaw is locked, his eyes never straying from Dominik’s frame.
I can’t look away.
I whisper, barely a breath, ‘‘That’s him.’’
Minutes stretch. We wait. They sit. They talk to someone we can’t see. We can’t hear the words from this angle. Only see his hands move occasionally. Controlled. Calculated. Every gesture intentional.
I think about what we just discussed—Nick, Lorenzo, the erased records, the name‘Sal’blotted out like a stain someone tried too hard to scrub clean.
‘‘What if Dominik knows what the name meant?’’ I whisper.
Sawyer hums low. ‘‘Then let’s hope he still cares enough to tell you.’’
Another ten minutes pass.
The place starts to fill with more people, slowly they move through the doors, like cockroaches.
Then the door opens. His men stand first, clearing the way. The meeting’s ending.
I don’t think.
