BEYOND THE SHADOWS: The Billionaire Mafia Boss Claimed the Broke Waitress Who Saved His Life—And Tore Down the Underworld to Protect Her

The pre-dawn mist was thick over the city as our four armored vehicles breached the service bay of the medical center.

The power to the east wing had been cut by Rossi's men, plunging the long linoleum corridors into eerie red emergency lighting.

Gunfire erupted the moment our boots touched the floor.

Tat-tat-tat-tat!

Automatic rifle fire shredded the walls, shattering glass display cases and sending medical files raining like confetti. Dominic moved with devastating efficiency, leading the breach with Matteo at his side. He wasn't just a boss who gave orders from a desk; he was a lethal warrior, dropping two Rossi gunmen before they could raise their weapons.

"Advance to the third-floor surgical prep!" Dominic commanded over the comms.

I stayed low, clutching a small emergency medical kit against my chest, following Matteo’s broad back as we cleared room after room.

As we reached the double doors of the surgical prep unit, the heavy doors kicked open.

Marco stepped out, his face twisted in a sneer, holding a submachine gun aimed directly at my chest.

"Always in the way, little waitress," Marco snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Emma, down!"

Dominic didn't think. He didn't take cover. He threw his entire body across the open corridor, wrapping himself around me just as Marco opened fire.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A sickening thud echoed as two rounds struck Dominic’s shoulder and side, bypassing the edge of his Kevlar vest. Dominic let out a guttural roar of pain, but his momentum drove us both behind the concrete reception desk.

Matteo rounded the corner a second later, his shotgun barking twice with deafening thunder. Marco collapsed to the floor with a ragged gasp, his weapon clattering across the tiles, dead before he hit the ground.

"Dominic!" I cried, rolling over to support his head.

Blood was soaking rapidly through his white shirt, dark and heavy. His breath was ragged, his face pale, but his obsidian eyes were locked onto mine with fierce lucidity.

"Emma..." he gasped, coughing slightly. "Are you... hit?"

"No! No, you took the bullets for me, you idiot!" I sobbed, tearing open my emergency medical kit with shaking hands. "Hold still! Press this gauze here!"

Using the emergency first-aid training I had learned years ago, I packed the shoulder wound tightly, applying direct pressure to stem the arterial flow while tears blurred my vision.

"Don't you dare die on me, Dominic Salvatore!" I choked out, pressing my palms against his bleeding side. "Chloe needs her surgery, and I... I need you! Do you hear me? I love you!"