It had been too long.
The distance between us was no longer something a simple gesture could bridge.
In the end, he lowered his hand and pulled it back.
"Dominic," I said quietly, my voice calm and steady despite everything, "I'm sorry. I made Celeste vomit again."
The apology came easily.
It always did.
I picked up the bottle of medicine from the nightstand, twisted it open, and poured all the pills into his palm. The small white tablets collected there, meaningless and cold.
Then I looked up at him, meeting his eyes directly.
"You can deprogram me," I said softly.
"Or just kill me."
"That's it. Hand it to me. I'll take it myself."
My voice came out eerily calm, almost detached, the kind of calm that didn't belong in a moment like this. It was twisted in a way that made even me sound unfamiliar to my own ears, steady but edged with something quietly defiant.
Dominic froze.
For several long seconds, he didn't move at all, as if my words had struck him somewhere deeper than he expected. His eyes locked onto mine, searching, trying to understand, but finding nothing he recognized.
"Serafina, are you insane?" he snapped finally, his voice rising sharply. "Do you want to die that badly?"
Without warning, he flung the bottle of pills across the room. It hit the floor with a sharp crack, scattering white tablets across the marble. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles along his face rigid with barely contained anger. Somewhere beyond the bedroom door, a soldier's weight shifted at the sound, then went still again.
"You want to die? Fine," he continued, his voice raw, almost hoarse with emotion he couldn't fully suppress. "But I won't let you."
The words echoed in the air.
And then, just as suddenly, he went still.
It was as if even he hadn't expected himself to say that.
A flicker of something crossed his face. Surprise. Irritation. Maybe even confusion. He hadn't been this visibly angry in years. Dominic was always composed, always controlled. The heir apparent of the Bellandi Family did not lose his temper. It was a luxury the rank didn't permit.
With a bitter scoff, he loosened his tie, tugging it down impatiently before dropping himself onto the chair nearby. His posture relaxed, but his expression hardened again, settling back into that familiar coldness. His signet ring caught the lamplight as his hand came to rest on the arm of the chair, perfectly still.