Chapter 7:The Mask's Betrayal
The front door crashed open with a deafening thud, the heavy sound reverberating through the grand manor like a warning bell tolling for the end. Ava stood frozen, the air thick with tension, as she watched the suited men pour into the hallway. Their cold, predatory eyes scanned the space, their steps methodical and unyielding, the perfect embodiment of the Valemortis' reach. There was nowhere to run. The walls that had once felt so grand and full of promise now felt like a cage.
Ava's breath hitched in her chest, and panic began to claw at the edges of her mind. She could feel the weight of the moment, the sinking realization that everything had changed. No longer was she merely a woman caught in the web of a mysterious, enigmatic billionaire. She was entangled in a dangerous game, where the stakes were deadly, and the truth was as elusive as the shadows.
Dominic's hand tightened around hers, pulling her close, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The icy composure that had always defined him was slipping, and in its place was a man on the brink—pushed to the edge by the ghosts of his past. The fury in his eyes was a burning thing, but there was no way out. Not this time.
The leader of the men—the one who had spoken—took a slow step forward. He was tall, with dark, close-cropped hair, his sharp features an unsettling mirror of Dominic's own. There was a coldness to his gaze that made Ava shiver, a sense of power that emanated from him like a dark cloud.
"We've found you, Dominic," the man said again, his voice a low rasp, tinged with both satisfaction and menace. "This time, you won't escape."
Ava glanced up at Dominic, her mind reeling. The mask. The legacy of the Valemortis. The first wife. The lies. The secrets. It was all coming together in a way she wasn't prepared for. But she had no time to process it all. The danger was here, right in front of them.
Dominic's voice broke through the tense silence, low and menacing. "You won't lay a finger on her, Rafe."
Rafe. The name echoed in Ava's mind like a dark melody, one she knew would haunt her from this moment forward. The way Dominic said it—like a challenge, a threat, an old wound reopened—told her everything she needed to know. This man wasn't just an adversary. He was personal.
"Don't be a fool, Dominic," Rafe said, his lips curling into a smirk. "You're already out of options. You've been running from us for years, but we always find a way. And this time…" He took a step forward, his eyes gleaming with something darker than hunger. "This time, it's over."
Dominic's jaw clenched. Ava could feel the tension in his body, the quiet fury radiating off him like a storm waiting to break. But there was no escape now. The walls were closing in, and with every step Rafe and his men took, the walls seemed to tighten, as though the manor itself was complicit in the trap being set.
"Stay behind me," Dominic whispered to Ava, his voice a soft growl.
Ava barely had time to react before Rafe's voice cut through the air once more.
"You've made a mistake, Dominic," Rafe said, his tone dripping with disdain. "You think hiding behind this mask will protect you? That it will shield you from the inevitable? The mask that your first wife died for?" He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper. "We've been waiting for this moment. And now, you will pay the price."
Ava's heart skipped a beat. She had been right to be terrified. The mask was more than just an artifact—it was a symbol of something far darker, something tied to Dominic's past. Something that was more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.
Dominic's face hardened, his grip on Ava tightening, but his gaze never wavered from Rafe. "You won't touch her. Not as long as I'm standing."
Rafe chuckled, a cold, hollow sound that seemed to echo through the empty halls. "Standing?" he said, his voice dripping with malice. "You're not even close to standing, Dominic. You're on your knees, whether you admit it or not. You always have been."
With a sharp motion, Rafe signaled to one of his men, who immediately stepped forward. The man was tall, his face a blank mask of indifference, but there was something about him—something that made Ava's skin crawl. He moved with purpose, his hand reaching into the inside of his jacket.
Before Ava could even think to stop him, the man pulled out a small, intricate box. He held it up to Rafe, who nodded approvingly. The box was delicate, with gold filigree and strange symbols etched into its surface. It was beautiful, and yet, it felt wrong in her hands.
"We've come for what's ours," Rafe said, his eyes glinting as he spoke the words like a promise.
Ava's heart pounded in her chest as Rafe turned his gaze back to Dominic. "The mask belongs to us, Dominic. And you... you're nothing without it."
For the first time, Ava saw it—the flicker of hesitation in Dominic's eyes. It was so brief, so fleeting, that if she hadn't been watching closely, she might have missed it. But it was there, as clear as day. And it terrified her.
"What are you not telling me?" Ava asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but sharp with urgency.
Dominic didn't answer right away. He didn't have to. Rafe's smug smile spoke volumes.
"I told you, Dominic," Rafe continued, his voice filled with dark amusement. "There is no hiding from your past. No matter how far you run. No matter how many masks you put on, the truth will always find you."
Ava's mind reeled, but something in Dominic's eyes—the pain, the regret, the weight of all he had lost—spoke louder than Rafe's taunts.
"You don't have to do this," Dominic said, his voice low but resolute. "You don't have to be their puppet anymore."
Rafe's grin widened, his eyes narrowing with cold satisfaction. "I'm no one's puppet, Dominic. I'm the one who pulls the strings now. And I'm done playing your little game."
The sound of heavy footsteps grew louder behind them, and suddenly the room seemed smaller, tighter. Ava's pulse quickened. There was no escape.
Dominic's hand moved quickly, pulling Ava closer, as he shifted into a defensive stance. His body was tense, coiled like a spring, ready to strike. Ava could feel the heat of his body, the danger radiating from him in waves.
For a moment, time seemed to slow, every breath stretching out in an eternal, heart-stopping pause. And then, just as the first man lunged forward, a sharp, familiar sound echoed through the air—the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.
Everything stopped.
Ava's breath hitched in her throat as she turned toward the sound, her eyes locking onto the figure standing at the far end of the hallway.
It was another man, dressed in dark, tailored clothing. But unlike the others, he didn't seem to belong to Rafe's group. His eyes were cold, calculating, but there was something else—something familiar about him.
"Stop!" the man commanded, his voice calm but authoritative.
Rafe froze, his expression shifting from smug confidence to something else—something Ava couldn't quite place. Dominic's body stiffened, every muscle taut with anticipation.
The man took a step forward, his gaze never leaving Rafe's. "You've made a grave mistake, Rafe," he said quietly. "And I intend to see it undone."
Ava's heart raced. Who was this man? And why did his voice make her blood run cold?
Before she could ask, the gunshot rang out.
To Be Continued…