Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 214

The clock ticked quietly on the far wall, counting seconds Dominic didn’t feel passing.

He sat behind his desk, with his elbows resting on the armrest, and his eyes on nothing in particular. The light caught the faint curve of his glass, untouched, and the scattered documents he hadn’t been able to read for the past hour.

The wound on his shoulder throbbed with a deep, measured ache. The muscles underneath burned every time he shifted.

He rolled his wrist once, trying to ease the tension out of his arm. It didn’t help. He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. The air in the room felt too still.

When his phone vibrated on the table, the sound sliced through the silence. He glanced down at the screen.

Walker.

He hesitated for half a heartbeat before answering. Walker didn’t call unless it mattered. And lately, everything that mattered came with blood.

"Talk to me," Dominic said the moment he tapped the answer icon, his voice low, and even.

"Carlos sent men." Walker reported.

Dominic’s jaw tightened. "Where?"

"One of the orphanages."

The silence that followed could’ve swallowed a city. Dominic shut his eyes for a split second.

His fingers stilled on the armrest. He didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. He just stared ahead, letting the words sink into the still air.

Walker’s voice came again, softer now. "We took them down. All of them. But there was gunfire. A lot of it. The kids are—" he exhaled. "They’re terrified, sir. Some of them won’t stop crying."

The world tilted slightly.

Dominic leaned forward, with his elbows braced on the marble. He’d promised those children safety. He promised them they’d never know fear again.

His inside snapped.

His fist came down on the marble desk. He slammed the desk so hard that the sound exploded all through the room.

Pain shot through his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, but it didn’t stop the warmth blooming beneath his bandage. Blood seeped through the white bandage, slowly at first, then spreading in an uneven patch. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

He didn’t care.

He pressed his good hand flat on the desk, trying to steady his breath. "How many casualties?"

"None of ours. None of the kids. But the men—"

"I didn’t ask about them," Dominic interrupted, his voice low, and dangerous. "How many of mine?"

"None, sir."

Walker paused, then he went on. "But they were scared. You can hear it in the way they breathe. Some of the kids close to you keep asking for you. I told them you were out of the country."

Dominic closed his eyes briefly. He felt pressured. He exhaled once, through his nose, sharp and slow.

"I’ll come there myself," he said.

Walker hesitated. "Sir, your shoulder—"

"I said," Dominic cut in, his tone cold enough to frost the air, "I’ll come there myself."

"Yes, sir."

Dominic ended the call without another word. The silence that followed roared.

He sat there for a moment longer, his knuckles white, and his breath shallow. The blood kept spreading beneath the bandage.

His gaze drifted toward the photo frame on his desk. It was turned face down, but he could still see the edge of it. It was a picture of Celeste.

He had sworn that no child under his protection would ever live the way he did. That no one would ever be made to feel small, or unsafe, or hunted.

And now, Carlos has crossed that line.

Dominic reached for his glass and took a slow sip of water. His jaw clenched as he swallowed.

.......

The door creaked softly before Celeste’s voice filled the silence.

"Dominic..."

Her voice was gentle. She stepped into the study, balancing a silver tray with one hand, the other brushing the door closed behind her.

The smell of food drifted through the room.

She froze near the desk. "You’re bleeding."

Dominic turned slowly at her voice, caught like a man coming up for air. He hadn’t even realized how long he’d been standing there, staring at nothing. His shirt sleeve was soaked halfway through with a slow, dark bloom of red.

He swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His expression eased the moment he saw her. The rage in his chest retreated, though not completely. "It’s nothing," he murmured.

Celeste set the tray down on the desk and moved closer. "It doesn’t look like nothing."

When she reached for his arm, he tried to pull back. "Stop moving." She ordered firmly.

He obeyed.

Her hands were gentle as she peeled away the soaked bandage. The wound had reopened. Her breath hitched softly when she saw it, but she said nothing. She just reached for the clean gauze on the tray.

She sighed. "What did you do?"

His lips twitched. "I hit the table."

Her eyes darted up to him. "Of course you did."

"You shouldn’t have slammed your hand like that," she said finally, dipping the cotton into the antiseptic.

He sighed. "I didn’t plan to."

"You never plan to hurt yourself," she said quietly, dabbing at the blood. "It just happens when you aren’t careful. Ill call the doctor after this."

Dominic looked at her. "It wasn’t carelessness. It was..." He stopped himself.

"What?"

He didn’t answer. He watched her instead. He watched the way her brows furrowed in concentration, and the way her fingers trembled only slightly when the pain made him flinch.

He exhaled sharply, staring past her shoulder. "Carlos is crossing lines he shouldn’t."

"And you bleeding yourself out in your study will fix that?" she shot back gently, pressing another piece of gauze to the wound.

He almost smiled. Almost. "You’re getting a bit too heartless with me."

She smiled faintly too. "Only when you’re being stupid."

Dominic chuckled. "Carlos sent his men to an ophernage of mine."

"What?" Celeste blinked, starled.

"They’re dead now. My men took care of it. But..." He swallowed, his jaw tightening. "The children heard everything. They were terrified. They shouldn’t have to hear that kind of fear."

She lowered her gaze. "Oh, Dominic..."

"I built those walls so they could sleep safely. And now—" He stopped.

Celeste squeezed his hand, wordlessly asking him to save his breath. She understood it all.

When she was done cleaning, she wrapped the new bandage carefully, her fingers brushing his skin in light, accidental touches.

"You should rest," she murmured.

"I can’t. I’m going there."

Celeste froze, looking up at him. "To the orphanage?"

He nodded.

She hesitated. Not out of fear, but because she knew what it meant to see fear in a child’s eyes again. Still, she lifted her chin. "I’m coming with you."

Dominic blinked. "No, you’re not."

"Yes, I am."

He gave a short, humorless laugh. "You think I’m going to take you to a place that was just attacked?"

"I think," she said softly, "those children need comfort right now. And you—" she looked at him steadily, "—you need to be reminded of why you built that place. I can help."

He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers across her wrist. "You shouldn’t have to see that kind of thing."

"Maybe not," she whispered. "But I can’t sit here and do nothing while you go out there alone."

He looked at her for a long time, saying nothing. Then he stood, wincing softly as the movement pulled at his wound.

"Get your coat," he said finally, his voice low. "You’re not leaving my sight for a second."

Celeste nodded, though she could hear the weight beneath his tone. The unspoken way he said: because I can’t lose you too.

When she turned to go, he caught her wrist again, just briefly. "Celeste."

She looked back.

His gaze softened. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I love you."