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The heavy rhythmic hiss of the mechanical ventilator was the first sound that clawed its way through the fog of my subconscious. My lungs felt like they were lined with crushed glass, and every attempt to draw breath felt like a monumental battle against an invisible weight. / Chapter 4 / 20

Chapter 4 - Blood in the Corridors

The hospital grew terrifyingly quiet, save for the distant, muffled pop of a silenced gunshot echoing through the ventilation shafts.

Dominic moved with lethal efficiency. In a blur of motion, he shoved my hospital bed against the reinforced concrete pillar in the corner of the room, positioning me out of the line of direct fire from the doorway. He handed me a heavy, compact Sig Sauer pistol, pressing my fingers around the grip.

"Can you shoot?" he demanded.

"No," I breathed, my hands trembling so violently I nearly dropped the weapon.

"Safety is off. Point, pull the trigger, and don't stop until the slide locks back," he instructed, his voice entirely devoid of panic. He pressed a kiss against my knuckles—hard, cold, and final—before turning to face the door.

The lock on the door clicked.

Enzo positioned himself to the left of the frame, knife drawn, while Dominic stood dead center, weapon raised at eye level.

The door burst inward. Two men in tactical black gear poured through the threshold, their automatic rifles sweeping the room.

The ensuing firefight was over in seconds, but it sounded like an eternity. The deafening roar of gunfire filled the small ICU room, shattering the remaining glass in the windows and chewing the drywall to powder. Dominic moved like a predator, two clean shots dropping the first intruder before he could clear the doorway. Enzo neutralized the second with brutal, silent efficiency, dragging the limp body out of sight into the hallway.

"We have three minutes before the backup team reaches this floor," Dominic said, his breathing only slightly elevated as he reloaded his weapon. He looked down at me, his eyes dark with urgency. "We're leaving. Now."

"I can't even walk," I protested, looking down at my bandaged torso.

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The ink on the medical schedule wasn't standard printer black. It was darker, heavier, pressed down with the kind of deliberate malice that only a fountain pen could deliver. I stared at the signature at the bottom of the page, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The ink on the medical schedule wasn't standard printer black. It was da...

The kitchen was so quiet you could hear the distant murmur of the jazz trio outside, playing as if the world hadn't just tilted on its axis. Grant stared at the single sheet of thick parchment resting against the cold Italian marble. His breath caught, a shallow, ragged hitch that gave away his panic before his voice ever could.

The kitchen was so quiet you could hear the distant murmur of the jazz t...

The silence that settled over the Ashford Hills grand terrace after my wedding ring hit the champagne glass wasn’t the polite hush of a high-society dinner. It was the breathless vacuum that precedes an explosion. Around us, smartphones remained elevated, lenses locked on Grant’s face as the pale gold liquid rippled around the platinum band.

The silence that settled over the Ashford Hills grand terrace after my w...

Without a word, Dominic scooped me up into his arms. The movement sent white-hot agony tearing through my stitches, but I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper, refusing to cry out.

As we sprinted down the private service elevator into the subterranean parking garage, I realized my old life as a broke, exhausted catering girl was officially dead and buried. I was now the wife of a mob boss, running for my life through the underbelly of New York City.

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