Glass Hearts [BL]
Chapter 30: Abs Solve Everything… True or Nah?

Chapter 30: Abs Solve Everything... True or Nah?

"Oh my God, what is this?!" he snorted. "Is that you...with a twelve-pack?"

"She drew you like a Marvel character on steroids," Dominic laughed. "Is this your alter ego or what?"

I groaned, dragging my hands over my face. "Yeah. She thinks abs solve everything."

Dominic kept flipping pages, laughing harder. "Bro, you have a triangle nose. And is your mom holding a frying pan like Thor’s hammer?"

"She’s the queen-slash-chef," I said.

Dominic smirked. "Respect. Also...is that Alia standing on a dragon labeled Homework?"

I couldn’t help grinning. "Obviously. That’s what true heroes do."

Dominic closed the sketchbook and gave me a teasing look.

"You know, Rivera," he said, "I’d pay good money to see you with those abs in real life. Just for scientific comparison, of course."

I blinked at him, heat crawling up my neck. "Jesus, Dominic."

"What?" he said innocently, leaning closer. "I’m just saying. Art deserves to be accurate."

I rolled my eyes and tried to snatch the sketchbook back, but he held it tightly.

"Okay no....this is peak art. If she ever publishes this, I’m buying ten copies. Signed."

"She charges extra for signatures," I added.

He looked up briefly. "So... which one of these masterpieces is the guy you saw?"

"Page near the back," I said. "I just sketched the fragments I remember."

He nodded, as he turned to it...though he kept the sketch of Muscle Ash folded inside for safe-keeping.

Because of course he did.

Dominic lowered his eyes to the first sketch, studying it closely. It was just a portrait view.....the upper half of a guy’s face, mostly hidden behind a surgical nose mask, his plain eyes shaded beneath the rim of the hoodie pulled low.

"Damn," Dominic murmured. "This is... really detailed. You’re a pretty talented artist, Rivera."

I felt heat creep up my neck. "It’s nothing. Just what I remembered."

Dominic flipped to the next page and blinked.

He tilted the sketch toward the light, scanning the full-body drawing.

"Crocs?" he repeated, his brows shooting up. "Seriously?"

"Not even the fancy kind," I said with a shrug. "Just... basic black ones. Like gas station specials. It felt weird, you know? Like... he didn’t come for the party."

Dominic snorted a soft laugh. "The guy’s plotting crime in generic Crocs. Iconic."

I cracked a grin despite myself. "Hey, fashion criminal, literal criminal... maybe it’s a theme."

Dominic shot me a crooked smile. "Well, at least we’ve got a lead. Ugly footwear is suspicious as hell."

He closed the sketchbook slowly, tapping the cover. "You’ve got a good memory. Or at least... a good eye."

"Thanks," I mumbled, trying not to squirm under his gaze.

Dominic exhaled and leaned back, raking a hand through his dark hair.

He stared at the ceiling for a second, silent.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I’m just tired," he mumbled, eyes still on the ceiling. "I had barely finished making dinner when I saw you outside the gate. I’ve been running on fumes."

I turned to him. "Wait, you cook?"

He looked at me, amused. "You sound shocked."

"Because I am. You...Dominic Vale....cook?"

He glanced up with a lazy grin, like he knew the thought was messing with my head. "Yeah. I cook."

I laughed, a little too loud, too off guard. "No. I just didn’t expect you to actually do things like that."

He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah. Sometimes. The staff’s off. Gave them the week. Told them to take time off after all the Liam stuff blew up."

"So you’ve been here alone?"

"Yeah. It’s just me. Cooking. Cleaning. Surviving. Diane comes home sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Can’t picture you in an apron."

You’d be surprised," he said, flashing a smirk. "I make a mean pasta. And if you’d love to taste... and taste me after," he added, "I’m down."

I choked. "What the?"

He stood up, like he hadn’t just sent my brain into a full system shutdown. "Kidding."

He wasn’t.

He stretched once, arms above his head, abs tightening beneath that fitted. And then.....

He reached for the hem of his shirt.

Oh no.

"Do you want me to go.."

"No, I mean....you can stay. I’m just grabbing a quick shower," he said, already getting up from the couch.

"Yeah...of course," I said, tapping my foot nervously on the marble floor.

Then...

He grabbed the hem of his tank top.

And pulled it over his head.

And I swear to god the air left the room.

There they were. His abs. His whole freaking torso. The definition. The tattoos on his ribs. The smooth skin, the V-line abs leading lower, dangerously lower.

I blinked fast and turned my face so fast my neck cracked. "Oh my god..."

"What was that?" he asked, already halfway to the bathroom.

"Nothing!" I said quickly. "Nothing at all."

"Don’t look so nervous," he said, walking toward the bathroom. "I’m just showering. Not stripping for your fantasies."

He paused, still smirking. "Yet."

I sat down, fast. The leather couch squeaked under me.

Dominic leaned on the doorframe, towel slung over his shoulder, his body casting shadows in the soft light.

"Oh...and for the record," he added, eyes scanning me slowly. Abs do solve everything."

I couldn’t help the small, soft smile that slipped onto my face as Dominic disappeared into the bathroom.

The room fell silent except for the distant hum of city lights outside.

I stared down at the sketchbook resting on my lap, flipping to the page with the hooded figure again.

And suddenly...like a flash...the missing piece slammed into my brain.

"Oh my god," I gasped.

He had a tattoo.

Liam’s killer... had a tattoo.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to rewind the memory.

I remembered it now. When he’d raised the knife under the rooftop lights, his sleeve had shifted just enough for me to see it.

It was a jagged black ink curled around his lower arm...twisting into a coiled serpent, fangs bared, ready to strike.

It was dangerous. Aggressive. Like something you’d see on a warning sign.

Without wasting a second, I picked up a pen from the coffee table and started sketching, recreating every curve of the ink, every scale, every glint of the serpent’s eye.

Liam’s killer had a tattoo.

And now...I had proof.