Page 48 of Filthy Dirty Dom

It made twisted sense, and a helping hand was a precious commodity, especially from a man like Luca.

"Have some trust,” Luca said. The words would’ve been amusing if the situation were less dire.

"Would you trust you, if you were me?" Alex shot back, the challenge stark in his words.

"Initially, no. But considering the mess you're knee-deep in, the stakes you're playing for... if Leslie was my woman, I would gamble."

“Gamble on what?” he said, his voice wary. He knew all too well that every step he took now was fraught with danger, but it was a risk he was willing to bear if it meant securing Leslie's safety.

"Go to Caris," Luca said, the name of the tropical, secluded island dropping like a heavy stone in the pit of Alex's stomach.

Caris—an isolated, luxurious haven in the Caribbean teeming with lush greenery, azure waters, and sun-kissed beaches. The last he knew, the compound on it was fortified with a high-tech security setup that was almost impenetrable. But to Alex, it was more than just an island. More than just a well-protected place. A rush of memories hit him, unbidden and unwelcome. His instinctual response was to vehemently refuse, but he managed to clamp down on it, letting the silence stretch over the line.

"I know it will bring back memories, but you understand its security, how it's locked down like a fortress. You know that if Mia had been there when it happened, we probably could have intervened in time."

At the raw mention of Mia's name, Alex sunk into a nearby chair, the weight of it all threatening to crush him.

Bratva. Caris. Luca. Mia.

None of them were words he’d ever wanted to associate with Leslie for obvious reasons. The possibility of further violence, of bloodshed, hung in the air like an ominous thundercloud, and beneath it, the smoldering need for vengeance, stirring back to life.

It was a sobering thought, a chilling reality.

Alex pressed his fingertips to his temples, attempting to ease the tension knotting there. The implications of Luca's offer were not lost on him. The island was a fortress, but even the most secure compound could be penetrated by a determined enemy.

He'd told Branden he'd try to keep him updated, but now that was impossible. To keep Leslie safe, he'd have to sever ties with the outside world. He couldn't risk a traceable call or a vulnerable connection. He had to make Caris as impregnable as he could, fortifying its defenses beyond any point of reasonable doubt.

It was a hard, brutal decision, but one he knew he had to make. Leslie's life was at stake.

"You're right, Luca," he said finally, his voice laced with a bitter resignation. "Things might have been different if Mia had been on Caris that day. If the Bratva is indeed involved, my options are severely limited. If Caris is an option, it’s one I’ll take. Trusting you is a risk I’ll take.” His next words came out slow and deliberate, a chilling promise. "But if this is some kind of trick, if our truce is over, and you think to play me—"

"It's not that, Alex," Luca interrupted, his voice calm despite Alex’s impending threat.

Ignoring him, Alex continued, the fire of vengeance burning bright in his voice. "I will gut you like a fish and feed you to the sharks."

"Duly noted," Luca replied, a hint of a grim smile evident in his voice. "Now get your woman ready. The jet leaves JFK in an hour. You’ll find it because it’ll be the one guarded by armed men."

The silence that followed the end of the call was deafening. Alex stared at the phone in his hand, the screen now dimmed. Was he doing the right thing, aligning himself with the devil he knew, trusting in a truce that had already been tried and tested in the fires of betrayal?

Yet the world didn't house just one devil; there were many. Monsters that lurked in the shadows of power and greed. Monsters like the men who had dared to touch Leslie. Monsters like the man Alex himself had once been, and perhaps, in many ways, still was.

For a long moment, he stood there, wrestling with his inner demons. His past was a twisted, violent maze that he'd sworn never to tread again. Yet now he was on the precipice of the very abyss he’d once warned Leslie about in Montana.

He felt an iciness creeping up his spine, but he steeled himself against the fear. Fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford to give in to.

Slowly, he turned and headed back into the bedroom. He watched Leslie sleep, her brows furrowed, a testament to the turmoil that plagued her. He moved towards her, gently brushing the loose strands of hair off her face. Her skin was warm against his cold fingers as he nudged her awake. "Leslie."

Alex watched Leslie as she slowly began to rouse, her long eyelashes fluttering in the soft light of the room. Her green eyes, hazy with sleep, struggled to open and make sense of her sudden wakefulness. Before she could form any words, he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms, drawing her warmth into him. He cradled her against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his own.

His hand found its way to her hair, fingers tracing the soft waves that cascaded down her shoulders. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, the action grounding him further, strengthening his resolve.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze locked onto her eyes. He saw the questions in them, the silent plea for an explanation. Instead of giving her one, he closed the gap between them, his lips finding hers in a soft, tender kiss.

"We have a plane to catch," he whispered.

21

The hushed bustle of the private jet terminal was a stark contrast to the frenzied chaos that had defined their night. Armed men, their faces concealed behind dark glasses even at this hour, stood in a stark formation around the sleek jet.

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