Chapter 3 - Breaking the Ice
The sessions were brutal. What began as a singular spark turned into a grueling, daily war of attrition.
Sarah pushed Dominic’s body past its breaking point. She dug her fingers into decades of atrophy, breaking down calcified tissues and forcing dormant nerves to fire. Dominic was a man used to absolute control, but on the therapy table, he was entirely at her mercy.
He cursed. He sweated. Sometimes, the pain was so blinding he nearly blacked out. But he never told her to stop.
"You're holding your breath," Sarah murmured during their third week, her hands working deeply into his lower back.
"It hurts, Sarah," he gritted out, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the bed. It was the first time he had used her first name.
"I know," she said, her voice softening. She shifted closer, the scent of lavender and clean soap washing over him. "But pain means the nerves are communicating with the brain. Pain is life, Dominic."
He turned his head to look at her. She was flushed, a stray lock of brown hair clinging to her damp forehead. She was so close he could see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. For the first time in twenty years, Dominic felt a different kind of spark—one that had nothing to do with his spine.
"How is Leo?" Dominic asked, his voice a low rumble.
Sarah paused, surprised by the genuine inquiry. "Better. Your private doctors adjusted his immunosuppressants. He hasn't had a fever in four days. He... he drew a picture for you."
She pulled a crumpled piece of crayon art from her pocket. It was a crude drawing of a man in a wheelchair with a cape, flying over a city.
May you like
Dominic stared at the paper. The ruthless crime boss, who had ordered the destruction of entire syndicates without blinking, felt a strange, terrifying tightness in his chest. "Put it on the fridge," he commanded gruffly, turning his face away so she wouldn't see his eyes.
Sarah smiled. "Yes, boss."
