"The curvy maid accidentally dropped heated towels on the mafia king’s legs—then he whispered, “Don’t move them,” and she realized something was terribly wrong.

The heavy steel doors crumpled inward, ripped off their hinges by a specialized breaching charge. Smoke and concrete dust flooded the laundry level.

Marcus froze, his grip loosening slightly on Lena’s throat as he turned his head toward the explosion in sheer terror.

Through the thick gray smoke, a silhouette emerged.

Dante didn't roll into the room in his wheelchair.

Supported heavily by two of his largest enforcers, Dante was walking. His steps were agonizingly slow, dragging, and fueled entirely by sheer, violent willpower and adrenaline. He looked like an avenging demon rising from the underworld.

Marcus let go of Lena entirely, scrambling backward, his eyes wide with absolute horror.

“Dante... wait!” Marcus begged, holding his hands up.

Dante raised his handgun. His arm didn't shake.

“You touched her,” Dante whispered, the sound carrying clearly over the hum of the washing machines.

Bang.

The shot hit Marcus squarely in the right kneecap. Marcus screamed, collapsing to the wet tile floor in agony.

Bang.

The second shot hit his left kneecap.

Dante stood over the writhing, screaming traitor who had poisoned him for seven years and nearly killed the woman he loved.

“That’s for my legs,” Dante said coldly.

Dante turned his eyes to Lena. She was slumped against the steel chute, coughing, clutching her bruised throat, but she was alive. The intense, murderous rage in Dante’s eyes instantly melted into profound relief.

He lowered the gun and nodded to his men. “Take him to the docks. Make it slow.”

As his men dragged a screaming Marcus away, Dante finally let go of his enforcers. His legs gave out completely. He collapsed onto the cold tile, gasping in pain, the adrenaline finally leaving his system.

Lena didn't hesitate. She scrambled across the wet floor, completely ignoring her ruined red velvet dress, and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest.