A wounded mafia boss collapsed at my rural clinic after midnight,

The rumble of the explosion died away, leaving only the crackling of burning timbers and the distant, mocking laughter of the wind through the pines.

Footsteps crunched heavily over the frozen crust of snow behind me.

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

Emerging from the mouth of a secondary ventilation shaft, leaning heavily against a jagged boulder, was Dante. His face was blackened with soot, his right arm hung limpletely at his side, dripping blood onto the white snow, but he was alive.

"Dante!" I cried out, scrambling through the snow to throw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.

Dante winced sharply from the impact on his injured shoulder, but he wrapped his left arm around me, holding me tightly against him as if I were the only real thing left in a world gone mad.

"You're an idiot," I sobbed into his jacket, my fists clenched against his back. "You absolute, reckless idiot."

"I know," Dante murmured, his lips resting softly against my hair. "Are you hurt?"

"My clinic is gone," I whispered, the reality of the destruction washing over me with crushing weight. "Everything I built... gone."

Dante pulled back slightly, cupping my chin with his warm, calloused hand, forcing me to look up into his dark, unwavering eyes.

"Listen to me, Claire," he said, his voice carrying an absolute, unshakeable promise. "What they burned was just wood and glass. I will build you a hospital—not a small clinic, a modern, fully-equipped medical center—anywhere in the world you want. But first... we finish this."

He turned his head toward the ridge.

Approaching through the dim moonlight were three figures in dark tactical gear, moving with disciplined silence down the snowy slope. My initial panic flared up again, but as they stepped into the clearing, I saw the relief wash over Dante’s face.

It wasn't Marco’s men. It was reinforcement.

"Boss," the leading man, a broad-shouldered veteran with a scarred jaw, saluted sharply. "The perimeter is secured. The strike team that hit the clinic is neutralized. No survivors."

Dante nodded grimly. "And Marco?"

"He's waiting at the extraction point by the lake, sir. He thought you were dead in the fire."

Dante turned back to me, his hand still resting on my cheek. "Claire, stay here with the security detail. I have a debt to collect."

"No," I said, my voice hardening with a resolve that surprised even myself. "I'm coming with you. I’ve lost my home, my clinic, and my peace because of your war, Dante Moretti. You're not leaving me behind to wait in the dark."