“Stay With Me Just One Night,” - He Asked Me to Stay One Night While He Bled Out—By Morning, I Learned My Ruined Life Had Been Built for His War. I Didn’t Know It Would Change Everything

My shift ended at 7:00 p.m.

As I walked out of the hospital staff entrance onto 98th Street, the evening air was turning dark. Rain began to drizzle again, slicking the pavement.

I pulled my coat tight around myself, walking toward the subway station.

A dark van pulled up smoothly beside the curb.

The side door slid open instantly. Two heavy-set men in leather jackets stepped out, blocking my path on the sidewalk.

"Clara Hayes?" one of them growled.

My heart slammed into my throat. I backed away, my hand reaching inside my coat for the pepper spray in my pocket. "Who are you?"

"Vance wants to see you," the taller one said, stepping closer. "Now."

"My payment isn't due until tomorrow!" I shouted, looking around frantically. The street was relatively quiet, only a few pedestrians walking quickly under umbrellas, ignoring us.

"Schedule changed," the man grunted, grabbing my forearm with a grip like an iron vise.

Before I could scream, a sleek silver Bentley roared around the corner, mounting the curb and cutting the van off at a forty-five-degree angle!

The driver's door of the Bentley flew open.

Val stepped out, holding a suppressed pistol low at his side. Simultaneously, two other black SUVs boxed the van in from behind. Six armed men in dark tactical suits poured out, weapons raised.

"Drop your hands," Val ordered, his voice cold and emotionless.

Vance’s two thugs froze, looking at the overwhelming force surrounding them. Their hands flew up into the air immediately.

The rear door of the Bentley opened.

Dominic stepped out.

He wore a dark cashmere overcoat over his suit. His face was slightly pale under the streetlights, but his dark eyes were full of lethal power. He walked toward us, ignoring the rain, his gaze fixed entirely on the man holding my arm.

"Take your hand off her," Dominic said softly.

The thug let go of my wrist as if my skin had turned to hot iron.

I stumbled back, and Dominic reached out, pulling me gently against his side. His arm wrapped securely around my waist, supporting me while protecting his own bandaged abdomen. His touch was warm, grounding, and intoxicating.

"Are you alright?" Dominic murmured in my ear.

"I'm fine," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You shouldn't be out here walking! Your stitches—"

"My stitches are fine," he interrupted with a faint smirk. He turned his attention back to Vance’s men. "Where is Vance?"

The tall thug swallowed hard, sweating despite the cold rain. "He’s... he’s at the warehouse in Red Hook. With Castiglione."

Dominic nodded slowly to Val. "Load them into the van. We’re going to Red Hook."

Val nodded. "And the nurse, sir?"

Dominic looked down at me, his dark eyes searching my face. "Do you want to go home, Clara? Or do you want to see the end of the story?"

I looked at Dominic, then at the black vans.