Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 250

The sound in the hallway was boots slamming, metal clattering, and voices shouting in raw command. It was the noise that followed war.

Celeste was screaming. She was still on her knees, her hands shaking as she tried to stop Amara’s blood from spilling out faster than her words could beg.

"Amara—please—please, open your eyes! Amara!"

Her voice cracked, broke, and tore itself apart.

Ronan was the first through the door. Behind him, Dominic’s men poured in, weapons drawn, faces set. The first thing he saw was Celeste on the floor, the red seeping beneath her, and Elias’s hand still locked in Amara’s. His jaw clenched tight.

"Get her out!" he barked, his voice heavy with urgency.

Celeste fought when the first man grabbed her. "No—no! Don’t touch me! Let me go! Amara!"

She kicked, screamed, and scratched them raw and unfiltered. Her sobs echoed through the room like something unholy. Dominic didn’t move. His head was bowed, with his hand gripping the gun so tight his knuckles were white.

"Celeste," he whispered, though his voice barely made it past his throat. "Celeste, please."

She didn’t hear him. She didn’t hear anything. She needed her friend. She needed her best friend. SHE NEEDS HER SISTER!

Two of Ronan’s men pried her arms away and lifted her off the ground, even as she kicked and screamed. "Let me go! You can’t leave her here! You can’t—"

Her voice broke off as they dragged her toward the exit. Her hair whipped across her face, with blood streaking down her arms.

Dominic’s eyes followed her, and for a second, just a second, he couldn’t breathe. Her screams were pulling at him, raw and desperate, but his body refused to move. Every part of him felt like lead.

The walls trembled slightly, an early warning of what was coming. Smoke from the hall drifted in thicker now. The fire was spreading.

"Dom!" Ronan barked, stepping closer, his voice cutting through the numb air. "We have to move, now."

Dominic’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor, on the two bodies lying side by side. Amara’s fingers were still tangled in Elias’s. Her eyes were shut softly like she’d fallen asleep mid-conversation.

For a heartbeat, it didn’t matter that Carlos’s blood was drying across the tiles. It didn’t matter that victory, or survival, or revenge had any meaning left.

Nothing mattered.

He felt his throat tighten, and his eyes sting, but he blinked it back. He couldn’t fall apart now. Not with Celeste screaming his name from down the hall, and not with fire threatening to swallow what was left.

He nodded once, and two of his men moved forward.

"Carry them," Dominic ordered quietly, voice low and hoarse. "Both of them."

The men hesitated for a moment. Then they lifted Amara’s body first, then Elias’s. The sound of metal scraping against the floor filled the room as blood trailed behind them.

Dominic stood there again, so still. He looked like a man waiting for his soul to return.

Ronan came up beside him, jaw clenched. "Dominic."

Dominic didn’t answer.

Ronan’s tone softened, the urgency shifting into something that carried weight. "We have to go, brother."

That word broke through. Slowly, Dominic turned his head, eyes meeting Ronan’s. There was everything raw in them, the kind of emotion he had never let Ronan see. It was the look of someone who’d lost too much and still couldn’t admit it aloud.

He nodded once. Then again. And again, as if convincing himself that movement was still possible.

"Alright," he finally murmured. His voice came out as a rasp, dry and cracked.

He turned sharply and walked toward the door, his boots echoing over the debris. Smoke stung his eyes, it could’ve been that, or maybe it was the grief pressing against his chest. He didn’t stop to check which one burned worse.

The hallway was a chaos of shouting, movement, and the hum of vehicles outside. Celeste was still fighting against the men holding her, her voice breaking into shattered pieces.

"Dominic!" she screamed when she saw him. Her voice was hoarse, soaked in despair. "You promised! You promised me. I asked you back in the closet, and you promised me!"

He froze for a fraction of a second. Her words hit him like a bullet, straight in the chest.

Ronan moved past him, ordering his men to secure the perimeter, and to move faster. The countdown had begun.

Dominic took one last look behind him. The room was already blurring in the smoke. It all felt unreal.

He clenched his jaw, turned back, and pushed through the doorway. The staircase trembled under their boots as they rushed down.

Outside, engines roared to life. The convoy stretched along the dirt road with black SUVs lined in perfect sequence. The night air was thick, heavy, and restless.

They loaded the bodies into the last vehicle. Celeste was forced into the middle car, still crying, with her fists pounding weakly against the door.

Dominic paused by the door before getting in. For a moment, the lights from the burning building flickered against his face, and he looked like a man torn between two lives.

Ronan climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door. "Drive!" he ordered the men.

The engines growled. The tires cut against the gravel.

And just as they pulled away, the explosion ripped through the air, a deafening roar that swallowed everything. The ground shook. Flames burst out from the building, curling up into the dark sky.

The reflection of the fire danced across Dominic’s face through the window. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched, but his eyes... his eyes were broken.

Celeste’s sobs silently. Ronan turned slightly, glanced at Dominic, and then looked away. There was nothing left to say.

Dominic stared straight ahead. The light faded behind them as the convoy sped into the night, away from fire, away from ruin, and away from his whole past.

In the silence that followed, Dominic could still hear it. Celeste’s voice. Her scream. And her breaks down.

And he realized, with a sinking dread, that this wasn’t victory. It was a loss that was cold, final, and irreversible.

He leaned back slowly, his hand covering his face.