The nurse stitched up the mafia boss's wound and secretly helped him in a way no one else could – a few hours later, he woke up and whispered, "Find her... I can't wait any longer..."

Nora Caldwell lived in a small, third-floor apartment in a brick building near the Providence riverfront.

It was a quiet place filled with old books, potted plants, and the faint scent of lavender tea. After a grueling twelve-hour shift that included stitching up the city’s most dangerous mob boss, all Nora wanted was six hours of dreamless sleep.

She locked her front door, pulled the blinds shut, and collapsed onto her bed, still wearing her oversized grey sweatshirt.

She slept for four hours before a quiet, rhythmic knock woke her.

Nora sat up instantly, her heart pounding in her throat. She lived alone. She didn't order delivery, and her landlord never visited without sending a text first.

She slid off the bed, grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from her nightstand, and crept quietly down the narrow hallway toward the front door.

She peered through the peephole.

Standing in the dimly lit corridor was not a delivery driver or a neighbor. It was Viktor, the scar-faced man who had threatened Dr. Price four hours ago. He was wearing a fresh charcoal suit, his arms folded behind his back, looking directly into the lens of the peephole as if he knew she was standing right there.

“Miss Caldwell,” Viktor said, his deep voice carrying clearly through the wooden door. “My employer would like to thank you properly for your services last night.”

Nora took a step back, her knuckles white around the brass candlestick. “Tell your employer I was just doing my job. He doesn't owe me anything.”

“Mr. Mercer does not like leaving debts unpaid,” Viktor replied smoothly. “And he particularly dislikes being kept waiting.”

Before Nora could answer, the lock on her door clicked.

Nora gasped as the heavy wooden door swung inward. Standing behind Viktor was a tall man in a black coat, his icy blue eyes fixing upon her face with an intensity that made the breath catch in her throat.

Silas Mercer stepped into her apartment.

He walked with a slight stiffness in his right side, but otherwise, he moved like a silent predator entering a new territory. His gaze swept over her tiny living room—taking in the simple furniture, the stack of medical textbooks on the coffee table, and the brass candlestick still held in her trembling hands.

“Nice weapon,” Silas said dryly, his low voice filling her small apartment.

Nora stood her ground, raising the candlestick slightly. “You’re breaking the law, Mr. Mercer.”

Silas let out a quiet, dark chuckle, taking two slow steps toward her. “Miss Caldwell, I am the law in this city.”

He stopped three feet away from her. Up close, without the blood and fluorescent lights of the ER, he was overwhelmingly handsome—sharp jawline, dark stubble, and eyes that seemed to look right through her skin to read every thought in her head.

“Why did you do it?” Silas asked softly.

Nora frowned. “Do what? Save your life? I’m a nurse. It’s what I do.”

“Price was ready to run,” Silas observed, stepping closer until Nora could smell his cologne—cedar, rain, and expensive tobacco. “The security guard hid in the closet. My men were threatening to turn that hospital into a slaughterhouse. Yet you stepped forward, took a needle, and closed a arterial bleed without your hand shaking once.”

He reached out, his long fingers gently grasping the brass candlestick in her hands. Gently, effortlessly, he slid it from her grip and set it on the table beside them.

His cold fingers brushed against her warm wrist, sending a strange, electric jolt straight up her arm.

“Where did you learn that locking stitch, Nora?” Silas murmured, his eyes locking onto hers.

Nora’s breath hitched. She looked away, her jaw tightening. “My father.”

“Captain David Caldwell,” Silas supplied smoothly. “Combat medic, 75th Ranger Regiment. Retired three years ago. Currently residing in a private veteran care facility in Boston.”