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..."

An hour later, a convoy of three armored black SUVs cut through the foggy coastal highway heading north toward Newport.

Nora sat in the back seat of the middle vehicle, sitting beside Silas. A simple leather bag containing her clothes, medical equipment, and her father’s military medals sat at her feet.

Outside the window, the dramatic cliffs of Rhode Island’s coastline loomed through the mist, grey waves crashing violently against sharp rocks below.

They pulled through a massive iron gate guarded by four men carrying tactical rifles, ascending a winding driveway lined with ancient oak trees.

At the top of the hill stood the Mercer estate—a vast, gothic stone manor overlooking the Atlantic ocean. It looked less like a modern home and more like a fortress designed to withstand a siege.

When the SUV stopped, Silas opened his door, stepping out into the brisk wind. He extended a hand to help Nora out.

Nora looked at his hand, then at his face, before taking it. His grip was firm, warm, and surprisingly gentle.

As they walked up the stone steps toward the grand entrance, Nora noticed that Silas was favoring his left leg, his posture stiffer than it had been an hour ago.

She stopped on the landing, pulling her hand from his grip.

“You’re bleeding again,” she said sharply.

Silas stopped, looking down at his dark coat. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, you stubborn idiot,” Nora scolded, her nurse instincts taking over her fear. “I stitched your intercostal muscle four hours ago. Walking around, climbing stairs, and driving across the state has pulled the lower sutures.”

Behind them, Viktor looked as if he were about to faint at the sight of a woman calling Silas Mercer an idiot.

Silas, however, merely looked down at her, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips for the very first time.

“Take me to your room,” Nora commanded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now.”

Silas chuckled—a low, rich sound that made Nora’s heart perform a strange, unexpected flip in her chest.

“Right this way, Doctor Caldwell,” Silas murmured dryly, leading her through the heavy oak doors into a grand foyer filled with marble, oil paintings, and high ceilings.

He guided her up a sweeping staircase to the master suite—a massive room dominated by a king-sized bed, a stone fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean.

Nora pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

Silas took off his coat and unbuttoned his dark shirt, tossing them onto a leather chair. He sat on the edge of the mattress, exposing his broad, muscular chest and the thick white bandage covering his right ribs.

Red blood was indeed seeping through the corner of the gauze.

Nora dropped her medical bag onto the nightstand, snapped on fresh nitrile gloves, and gently peeled back the blood-soaked bandage.

Silas did not flinch as the cold air hit his raw wound, but his eyes followed Nora’s face as she leaned in close, inspecting her stitches with practiced, professional care.

“Two knots slipped,” she murmured, pulling a pair of sterile forceps and suture thread from her bag. “I need to re-tie them. It’s going to hurt.”

“Do it,” Silas said, his eyes never leaving her face.

Nora sanitized the skin around the wound, holding the needle driver firmly. She leaned closer, her soft breath brushing against his bare chest, her hands moving with absolute, steady precision.

As she worked, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, the hard press of his muscles under her fingers, and the rhythmic, steady beat of his heart against her wrist.

“You’re very good at this,” Silas observed softly, his voice low in the quiet room.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Nora replied, tying off the second knot cleanly. “Mostly on drunk college kids and factory workers, though. You’re my first mob boss.”

Silas let out a quiet laugh. “Am I a good patient?”

Nora looked up from his wound, finding her face barely six inches from his. His icy blue eyes were warm, filled with a deep, intense curiosity that made her breath catch in her throat.

“You’re terrible patient,” she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. “You don't follow orders, you break medical protocols, and you kidnap your nurses.”

Silas reached up, his large, warm hand gently cupping the side of her neck, his thumb resting against her fluttering pulse point.

“I didn't kidnap you, Nora,” Silas murmured, his voice dropping into a deep, mesmerizing register. “I saved you from a war I brought to your door.”

“And who is going to save me from you?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind howling outside the window.