She Was Just the Night Nurse Until She Saved the Mafia Boss’s Mother From Three Hitmen—Then He Came Looking for Her

Inside the penthouse, Victor Moretti sat in a high-backed leather chair near a floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the storm-swept city.

He was sixty, overweight, with thinning grey hair and a gold ring on every finger. Two armed men stood on either side of his chair, their weapons instantly swinging toward the door.

Marin didn't shoot. She fired a single round into the floor between the two guards' feet.

"Drop them!" she commanded, her voice crackling with the sharp, unquestioned authority of an officer on a hot LZ. "Hands on your heads! Now!"

The sheer force of her presence—backed by Elias and Marko stepping into the room behind her with heavy weapons—made the two guards freeze. Slowly, agonizingly, they lowered their weapons to the floor and stepped back.

Victor Moretti’s face turned the color of ash.

"Elias," Moretti stammered, his gold rings clicking against the armrests of his chair. "This... this was just supposed to be a negotiation."

Elias walked into the room, his long coat damp from the rain outside. He stood over Moretti, looking down at the man who had ordered three mercenaries into his mother’s bedroom.

"You went after my mother, Victor," Elias said quietly.

"It wasn't personal!" Moretti gasped, his hands trembling. "It was the Chicago syndicate! They put pressure on me! They said if I didn't get control of the port terminals by the end of the month, they'd clear me out!"

"And you thought a seventy-one-year-old woman on a respirator was an easy target," Elias said.

Elias pulled a chrome-plated revolver from his waistband and cocked the hammer.

"Wait," Marin said, stepping between Elias and Moretti.

Elias’s eyes turned cold. "Get out of the way, Marin."

"If you execute him here, you start a three-city war that will bring every federal agency in the country down on your estate," Marin said, her voice completely calm. "You don't need to kill him."

"He threatened my mother," Elias hissed.

"And he just gave you the Chicago syndicate on a silver platter," Marin pointed out, gesturing to the open laptop sitting on Moretti’s desk. "The files are right there. The transfer routes, the bank accounts, the names of the Chicago representatives."

Elias looked from Marin to the laptop, then down at Moretti, who was nodding frantically.

"Yes! Take it!" Moretti cried. "Everything is on the server! Take the port access! Just let me walk!"

Elias was silent for ten agonizing seconds. The only sound in the room was the heavy rain beating against the glass windows.

Slowly, Elias lowered the hammer of his gun and returned it to his belt.

"Marko," Elias said. "Take the laptop. Strip Mr. Moretti of his phone, his rings, and his shoes. Leave him in this room."