Joanne clutched the edge of the medical desk, her knuckles white as she tried to shift her weight.
Every tiny movement was a localized explosion of agony.
Her inner thighs felt raw, her muscles were slightly trembling , and beneath the fabric of her hastily thrown-on scrubs, she could feel the deeply uncomfortable, sticky sensation of Alfonso’s fluids slowly trickling down her legs.
It was a humiliating, constant reminder of what had just happened on that bed.
“I… I can’t leave like this,” Joanne whispered, her voice husky and strained as she looked up at the towering shadow of the Mafia boss.
“Kindly… just give me ten minutes. I need to wash up. I need to go to the staff restroom and clean myself.”
Alfonso didn’t even look back as he adjusted the cuffs of his expensive designer shirt.
“We are leaving. Now.”
“Please!” Joanne pleaded, her voice cracking with a mixture of physical distress and rising panic.
“Look at me! I can barely stand straight! I am a professional in this hospital. I value my reputation, and I value how my colleagues see me. If I walk through those double doors limping like this, smelling of… of what we just did, they will ask questions. The night shift staff will know something is wrong. I am afraid to move!”
Alfonso stopped buttoning his vest.
He turned around slowly, his piercing eyes locking onto her panicked face.
A low, irritated curse hissed past his lips.
“I don’t have time for your pristine reputation, doctor,” he growled, stepping toward her with sudden, fluid speed.
“You’ll shower at my place. Now move your legs.”
Joanne stood frozen, her back pressed against the wall, her eyes wide with fear as she shook her head, genuinely unable and terrified to take a step forward into the bright, judgmental lights of the hospital corridor.
“Fucking useless,” Alfonso muttered under his breath.
Before Joanne could even gasp, he swooped down, his muscled arm locking around the back of her thighs.
With one powerful, effortless heave, he hoisted her off the floor, tossing her over his broad.
Joanne’s breath was knocked out of her as her stomach pressed against his hard, unyielding shoulder blade.
Her head hung down his back, her vision spinning as she stared at the floor.
“Let me down! Let me down!” she hissed in a frantic, desperate whisper, terrified that the noise would draw the very attention she was trying to avoid.
“Shut up and hold on,” Alfonso commanded, his hand clamping firmly over the back of her thighs to pin her in place.
He kicked door of Room 404 open, stepping out into the VIP corridor with long, confident strides.
“How the hell are you such a fragile weakling right now when you handled my weight and my size so well on that bed just minutes ago? You certainly didn’t feel this weak when you were tight around me.”
Joanne’s face burned with a wave of mortification.
She closed her eyes, burying her face against the fabric of his vest as he carried her past the central nursing station.
She could hear the faint, shocked gasps of her co-workers, the low whispers breaking out among the night shift staff, but Alfonso didn’t slacken his pace for a single second.
His grip was an absolute vice, his stride completely unbothered by the weight of her body as he bypassed the elevators and headed straight for the private exit doors leading to the rear courtyard.
The cool, crisp night air hit Joanne’s face the moment Alfonso pushed through the glass exit doors.
She let out a small sigh of relief, thinking the public humiliation was finally over.
CRACK.
The deafening, high-caliber report of a sniper rifle shattered the night silence, echoing violently off the concrete walls of the hospital courtyard.
Before Joanne could even process the sound, a bullet ripped through the air with a terrifying, high-velocity hiss.
It passed directly to the right side of Alfonso’s head, close enough that the sheer friction and heat of the bullet scratched the outer edge of his right ear, tearing the flesh.
“Sniper! Get down!” Griffin’s voice roared from somewhere across the tarmac.
Alfonso didn’t fall.
He stumbled back a step, a vicious, guttural snarl tearing from his throat as blood instantly began to bloom from his scratched ear, dripping down his jawline.
He didn’t drop Joanne; instead, his grip tightened until her bones compressed, using his massive frame to shield her body as he looked over toward the perimeter gates.
Through her upside-down, chaotic view, Joanne’s eyes widened in absolute horror.
The dark courtyard was suddenly alive with muzzle flashes and the chaotic roar of automatic gunfire.
A fleet of heavily armored black SUVs had blocked the entrance, and men in dark tactical gear were pouring out, engaging in a brutal, rapid-fire shootout with Alfonso’s personal security detail.
“It’s the Bulldogs!” Griffin shouted, his weapon drawn as he fired a precise burst over the hood of the lead car, dropping an advancing gunman.
“It’s their drug trafficking unit! The deputy in command is leading the push—Dente Monitez is on the field!”
Joanne’s body began to tremble against Alfonso’s shoulder.
The deafening, relentless sound of gunfire, the shattering of glass, and the smell of burning gunpowder assaulted her senses all at once.
She was a nurse; her world was defined by sterile rooms, healing, and quiet corridors.
She had never seen a gun fired in real life, let alone been caught in the middle of a literal mafia turf war.
A profound, suffocating shock paralyzed her mind.
What have I done?
she thought frantically, her heart hammering against her ribs it felt like it would burst.
What kind of monstrous, deadly world have I just signed myself into?
“Boss! Get down! Move to the vehicle!” Griffin yelled, sprinting toward them through the hail of stray bullets.
Griffin ran directly in front of his unarmed boss, using his own body as a physical shield to cover Alfonso and the trembling woman on his shoulder.
Bullets sparked off the asphalt around their feet, chipping away chunks of concrete as they made a desperate, high-stakes dash toward the customized, bulletproof limousine idling near the entrance.
Alfonso reached the car, yanked the door open with one hand, and practically threw Joanne inside onto the leather seats.
He dove in right behind her, slamming the door shut just as three rounds slammed into the bulletproof glass with loud, dull thuds.
Griffin scrambled into the driver’s seat, threw the vehicle into reverse, and slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
The tires shrieked, smoking against the pavement as the car spun around, plowing through a metal security barricade and tearing down the dark highway, leaving the chaotic war zone of the hospital behind.
The interior of the vehicle was completely silent except for the ragged breathing of its occupants.
Griffin tore through the dark streets, his eyes constantly flicking to the rearview mirror as he navigated the escape route.
After a few minutes of high-speed driving, ensuring they weren’t being followed, Griffin risked a glance back at the rear cabin.
He looked at his boss, and then at the pale, completely catatonic lady trembling in the corner of the seat.
“Are you okay, Boss?” Griffin asked, his voice tight with adrenaline.
“Did the round hit anything vital?”
Alfonso wiped a hand across his jaw, his fingers coming away completely coated in blood.
He glared at the rearview mirror, his eyes burning with rage.
“Does it look like I am fucking okay, Griffin?” Alfonso roared, his deep voice vibrating inside the confined space of the car.
“Does it look like I’m okay when my ear is actively bleeding onto my goddamn shirt?”
He snapped his head around, his icy, furious gaze landing squarely on Joanne.
Joanne was curled into a tight ball against the door, her hands clutching her head, her entire frame shaking uncontrollably from the sheer trauma of the last hour.
She was completely trapped in her own mind, staring blankly at the floor of the car, entirely unresponsive to her surroundings.
Alfonso reached out, his bloody hand gripping her shoulder and shaking her.
“Hey! Nurse! Look at me!” he growled impatiently.
“Get the first aid kit from the compartment below your seat. Open it up and help cover this wound right now! Do your fucking job!”
Joanne didn’t move.
The shock was too deep, her mind completely short-circuiting from the physical pain between her thighs and the sudden, terrifying realization that she was now bound to a man who lived in a world of flying bullets and sudden death.
She just kept trembling, her eyes wide and blank, completely deaf to his commands.
Alfonso’s patience snapped entirely.
He leaned over, his shadow completely engulfing her as he slammed his fist against the leather backrest right next to her head, his voice exploding into a deafening, furious shout that echoed like a thunderclap:
“Are you fucking deaf, Joanne?! I said get the goddamn kit!”