Curvy Waitress Saw Mafia Boss getting Drugged — What Followed Next Is Incredible

Leah kept her head low, rushing past the screaming cooks and ducking under the stainless-steel prep tables. She pushed open the swinging doors that led to a narrow, carpeted service hallway.

"The VIP lounge is up those stairs," Leah whispered, pointing to a dark stairwell at the end of the hall. "It overlooks the main dance floor. Sable's office is right behind it."

"Good girl," Dante murmured, his large hand briefly squeezing her shoulder. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her veins, a stark contrast to the cold terror gripping her chest.

"Enzo, take the main floor," Dante ordered. "Lock the front doors. Nobody leaves, nobody enters. Leah and I will take the stairs."

Enzo nodded, racking his shotgun and kicking open the doors to the main club. The sound of screaming and shattering glass instantly erupted over the thumping bass of the music.

Dante didn't wait. He moved up the stairs with terrifying speed, Leah right behind him with her revolver raised.

Two heavily armed guards stood outside the frosted glass doors of the VIP lounge. Before they could even raise their weapons, Dante fired twice. The men dropped like stones.

Dante kicked the double doors open.

The VIP lounge was lavish, filled with velvet couches and crystal chandeliers. Sable, a rat-faced man with a slicked-back haircut, was sitting on a sofa, a glass of champagne halfway to his mouth. Surrounded by six armed hitters, he froze, staring at a ghost.

"Hello, Sable," Dante said, his voice cold enough to freeze the blood in their veins.

"Kill him!" Sable shrieked, diving behind the sofa.

The room erupted in gunfire. Dante grabbed Leah by the waist, throwing them both behind a massive marble wet bar as bullets shredded the expensive liquor bottles above their heads. Glass and alcohol rained down on them.

"Stay down!" Dante roared, popping up to return fire.

Leah covered her ears, the deafening roar of the guns terrifying her. She was a waitress. She belonged in a diner, not a warzone. But as she huddled behind the bar, she saw the reflection of a hitter creeping around the flank in the shattered mirror above.