Giovanni DeLuca, the most feared mafia boss in the city, stood in the dim glow of a streetlamp, his face stone-cold as the echoes of the gunshot faded into the alley. His jaw clenched.

One of his new guys—some rookie with more nerves than brains—had made a fatal mistake. He forgot to lock the safety on his gun, swung it around carelessly, and—BANG.

At first, Giovanni’s anger burned at the idiot who fired the shot. But when he turned to see what had been hit, it twisted into something darker. A woman. A random woman.

She lay on the pavement, gripping her side where the bullet had torn through. Her dress, once pristine, now stained with crimson. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Too clean. Too soft. Too innocent for a place like this.

“Shit,” Giovanni muttered under his breath. He shot a glare at the idiot who fired. “Get the car. Now.”

The kid stammered, pale-faced. “Boss, I—I didn’t mean—”

Giovanni grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close, his voice a deadly whisper. “I don’t give a damn what you meant. If she dies, you die. Now move.”

The woman groaned, her breath shaky. Giovanni crouched beside her, his usual coldness flickering as he took in her wide, terrified eyes.

“Stay awake,” he ordered, pressing a firm hand against her wound to slow the bleeding. “You hear me? Don’t close your eyes.”

She gasped, barely able to respond. “W-what… what happened?”

Giovanni exhaled sharply. “Wrong place, wrong time, sweetheart.”

The car screeched to a stop nearby. Without hesitation, Giovanni scooped her up in his arms. She flinched, but she was too weak to fight him.

“Boss, we can just dump her—” one of his men started.

Giovanni’s glare cut him off. “Shut up.”

He got into the car with her still in his arms, barking at the driver, “To base. Now.”

As they sped through the streets, she blinked up at him, her pain evident. “W-who… are you?”

He hesitated. “No one you should’ve ever met.”

But now, she had. And Giovanni had no intention of letting her go.