Chapter 146: Chapter 146
Two hours later:
Dominic sat there, unblinking. His shoulders were rigid in the chair that had molded itself around his frame after endless nights.
His hand remained on hers, unmoving, and heavy with the kind of devotion that had long crossed the line between loyalty and obsession.
Machines filled the silence with their cruel reminder. It reminded him that she breathes, she lives, but she does not wake.
He hated them. Every beep, and every steady rhythm mocked him. They were proof that she was alive, yes, but also proof she was trapped somewhere he could not reach, no matter how far his power stretched.
For a man who could summon wars with a phone call, and who could bend empires with a word, this helplessness was a prison worse than death.
He leaned forward, his thumb dragging slowly, and endlessly, over her knuckles. The same motion he’d been repeating for eight nights straight.
It was a ritual now. This ritual was one carved into his bones. If he stopped, he feared she would drift even further away.
His jaw flexed as the silence filled his ears, thick enough to choke on.
He remembered her laugh. The way it used to bubble up against her will, the way her eyes would flicker first before her lips betrayed her. He remembered the taste of her defiance, sharp and burning, the way she never gave him silence, not willingly. Even when she hated him, even when she swore she’d never forgive him, she had given him her voice.
Now, she gave him nothing.
The quiet stretched, and pulled tight. His body was stone, but inside, he burned. He would not admit it aloud, not to Rodger, not to Amara, not even to himself, but he feared. Fear was a foreign thing to him, but it lived in him now, crouched low, and whispering of loss.
He sniffed, and that was when it happened.
A flicker.
The flicker was barely there. It was so faint he might have missed it if not for the way his entire being was anchored to her.
Her finger moved.
The movement was not much. It was just the tiniest twitch beneath his thumb. But it was not the machine, not the air, and not a figment of his madness. It was her.
Dominic froze.
Every muscle in him went rigid, like he was a predator struck still in the wild. His breath lodged in his throat, sharp and cutting. His eyes snapped to her hand, disbelieving.
For a heartbeat, he convinced himself it was nothing. Perhaps, it was just a reflex. He tried to believe that perhaps, his mind had spun to keep him from breaking.
But then, she moved again.
Again.
The faintest push against his thumb.
His chest constricted. Heat, raw and savage, flooded through him. His mouth parted on a soundless inhale, and for the first time in years, Dominic felt his vision blur.
"Celeste..." The name left him like a prayer, broken at the edges. His voice was raw, and a rasp dragged up from the marrow of him.
He bent lower, his eyes devouring her face, desperate for another sign. "Again. Do it again." His whisper cracked. "Please."
His thumb pressed into her knuckles, urging, and pleading. For a moment, nothing. His heart sank, with claws sinking back into his chest.
And then, it came again. It was there.
There.
It was just a tremor. Weak, yes. But real.
The sound that ripped from his chest was not relief, neither joy. It was a guttural growl of possession, of triumph, and of a man who had been starved of her for too long. He slammed his hand out and hit the red button on the lamp stand with a violence that rattled the marble.
The silence shattered.
The door burst open. Two doctors rushed in, white coats flaring behind them. Nurses followed, machines wheeled, with their hands already gloved.
"What happened?" one demanded, his voice sharp as his eyes landed on Dominic’s face.
"Her hand moved," Dominic ground out. His voice was iron, and lethal, but beneath it was a tremor he could not disguise.
The doctors moved fast, pulling her chart, shining lights, and adjusting the monitors. Dominic stepped back only enough to give them room, but his body vibrated with tension.
He paced once, twice, with every nerve in him screaming to tear them away from her, and to keep her untouched.
One nurse murmured, "Could be a reflex."
Dominic’s head snapped toward her, his stare venomous. "It wasn’t a reflex."
The words were sharp enough to cut. No one dared argue.
The senior doctor checked again, lowering his ear near her lips, then watching the subtle shifts in her vitals. "It may indicate neurological recovery. But it’s too soon to say."
Dominic’s hands fisted. "Don’t feed me uncertainty. Tell me what it means."
The doctor hesitated under that gaze, swallowing. "It means... it means there is hope."
Hope.
The word was a knife. It was mercy and cruelty all at once.
Behind him, the door opened again. Amara rushed in, her face pale, Rodger was just behind her. Both froze at the sight of the doctors circling Celeste’s bed.
Amara’s eyes widened. "What—"
"She moved," Dominic cut in, his voice raw steel.
Amara’s breath hitched, hand flying to her mouth. "She.... oh my God—"
Dominic’s glare lashed at her, sharp and merciless. "Don’t say it."
The air turned brittle. Amara’s lips trembled, but she obeyed.
He turned back, with his eyes locked on Celeste. The beeping of machines blurred into nothing. The voices of doctors melted away. There was only her, her hand beneath his, anf her knuckles still soft. She even grew warmer. Just a degree.
The doctors eventually stepped back, murmuring among themselves. "We’ll monitor closely. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial. Could be the first sign."
Their voices trailed, fading into the background.
Dominic lowered himself back into the chair. His hands, for all their violence, cradled hers as though it were spun glass. His forehead bowed close, lips brushing her skin as his breath trembled against it.
"I felt you," he whispered, so low it was almost soundless. "Don’t stop now."
His eyes burned, but he didn’t blink. He couldn’t. Not when she was fighting her way back. Not when she had just reminded him she was still here, still his.
His voice was steel and fire, soft enough only she could hear.
"I’ll wait. I’ll burn the world down until you open your eyes."
The machines hummed on. The doctors whispered. Celeste was still fighting, and Dominic would never let her fight alone.