Page 28 of Dominate

The arrogance is there, but it’s mechanical now. Rehearsed. The light behind those amber eyes is dimmed, like someone turned down the brightness on a screen. He looks like a man running on fumes, forcing out the answers.

Why won’t you let me⁠—

I stop that thought before it can finish.

I don’t even know Zane. Not really. One kiss doesn’t make us... anything.

But god, I want to know him. Want to understand what put that fear in his eyes. Want to be the reason it goes away.

I close the app and stare at the ceiling.

This is pathetic. I’m lying in bed at midnight, obsessing over a man who can’t even acknowledge I exist. A man who kissed me like the world was ending and then pretended it never happened.

I should be angry. I should write him off as a coward and focus on the rematch. Use this energy to train harder, fight better, prove that I don’t need his validation or his attention or his goddamn amber eyes looking at me like I’m something worth wanting.

But anger isn’t what I feel.

I feel hollow. Like Zane Butler carved out a piece of me in that medical room and took it with him when he ran.

Against my better judgment, I call one more time.

It’s almost 1 AM. He won’t answer. He hasn’t answered any of my calls, and there’s no reason to think this one will be different.

But I need to say something. Need to get these words out of my chest before they suffocate me.

Voicemail. Of course.

The beep sounds, and for a moment I don’t know if I can speak. Then I take a breath and let it pour out.

“I know you’re avoiding me.”

My voice sounds rough. Tired. I don’t bother trying to fix it.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you think ignoring this makes it go away.”

I pause, staring at the shadows on my ceiling.

“It doesn’t. Trust me—I tried that once. Spent years trying. Told myself if I just didn’t think about it, didn’t act on it, didn’t acknowledge what I was... it would eventually stop being true. That I could be the person my father wanted me to be. The person everyone expected.”

My throat tightens, but I push through.

“You know how that ended? I lost him anyway. When I finally couldn’t hide anymore, when I finally said the words out loud—he looked at me like I was a stranger. Like everything I’d ever been to him was erased in that moment. He hasn’t spoken to me in five years.”

I close my eyes.

“I’m not telling you that to scare you. I’m telling you because I know what it costs to hide. And I know what it costs to stop hiding. Both prices are brutal. But only one of them lets you actually live.”

Another pause. I can hear myself breathing, can hear the weight of everything I’m not saying pressing against my ribs.

“I’m not going to out you. I’m not going to pressure you. But I’m also not going to pretend that kiss meant nothing. Because we both know it didn’t.”

I take a breath. Let it out slowly.

“When you’re ready to stop running, you know where to find me.”

I hang up. Stare at my phone.

The screen stares back, dark and silent.