Chapter 8
Dominic’s POV.
When I stepped through the door that night, I expected the usual—Isabella sulking prettily on the bed, or maybe pacing the floor pretending she didn’t ache for me. Instead, the silence hit me first. No footsteps. No shy glances. Just an emptiness that clawed under my ribs.
I asked the nearest maid where she was. The girl froze, hands trembling so violently that the tray she carried rattled. I didn’t like that sound. I didn’t like the fear in her eyes either.
“Where is she?” My voice came out sharp, cutting.
They stammered, glanced at each other, and finally one whispered, “M-Master… she was taken.”
The word struck like a whip. Taken. For a second my mind refused it, spinning uselessly. My heart slammed against my chest. Then anger rushed in, black and violen
