Four days after taking a job in a mob boss's mansion, an innocent kiss on his cheek made his hand slam into the wall beside my head.

The acrid stench of cordite burned Elena’s nostrils as she pressed her forehead against the damp stone floor. Above her, Luca’s massive frame shuddered with every ragged breath. His blood seeped steadily through the tailored fibers of his dark shirt, pooling warm and slick against her trembling fingers. Through the ringing in her ears, the heavy crunch of combat boots on shattered glass echoed down the corridor, accompanied by Enzo Moretti’s drawling, victorious laugh.

"Come out, Don Rossi!" Enzo called through the haze, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "A king shouldn't die groveling in the dust beside a terrified servant girl. Show some dignity before I put a bullet through that pretty skull of yours."

Luca didn't answer. His teeth were gritted so tightly the tendons in his jaw threatened to snap. His left arm remained an unyielding cage over Elena’s back, shielding her from the smoke and stray debris, while his right hand, trembling almost imperceptibly, raised his silver-plated Beretta toward the threshold of the hallway.

"Luca, you're losing too much blood," Elena choked out, her voice barely a whisper against his chest. Tears streaked clean lines through the soot on her cheeks. "The panic door... it's right behind us."

"The keypad," Luca grated out, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against her ear. "Code is seven-nine-four-one. Get inside, Elena. Don't look back."

"Not without you."

"That wasn't a request," he growled, but the command was robbed of its usual terrifying authority by a sudden cough that rattled deep in his lungs, spewing crimson onto the shattered floorboards.

Around the corner, two silhouettes moved into view, assault rifles raised. Enzo’s vanguard.

Before the men could acquire their targets through the billowing smoke, Luca squeezed the trigger twice with mechanical precision. Two hollow thuds announced the collapse of the gunmen. But the recoil jolted his wounded shoulder, tearing a muffled groan of agony from his throat. His arm sagged, the heavy handgun slipping from his slick, bloodied fingers.

"Luca!"

Elena didn't think. Instinct, forged through days of watching this dangerous, magnetic man walk the razor's edge of survival, took over. She scrambled out from beneath him, her hands frantically striking the illuminated keypad beside the thick titanium blast door.

*Seven. Nine. Four. One.*

A high-pitched tone chimed, followed by the deep hydraulic hiss of heavy steel gears disengaging. The massive door swung inward by two inches.

Footsteps rushed forward—Enzo himself, accompanied by three remaining mercenaries, emerged through the smoke, weapons leveled.

"Kill the boss! Bring me the girl alive!" Enzo roared, raising an automatic rifle.

Elena threw her arms beneath Luca’s armpits. With an explosive cry fueled by sheer, frantic adrenaline, she dragged his deadweight frame across the threshold. Luca tried to push her away, tried to roll back into the line of fire to absorb the bullets, but his strength was rapidly deserting him. A hail of lead struck the steel frame around the doorway, sparks raining down on them like burning stars.

Elena caught the manual override lever inside the jamb and hauled it downward with all her body weight.

The hydraulic door slammed shut with the finality of a tomb. A fraction of a second later, a thunderous volley of bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the reinforced exterior, muffled into harmless thumps by four inches of solid ballistic steel.