The Mafia Boss’s Baby Wouldn’t Stop Reaching for Me—The Secret Behind It Tore My Whole Life Apart

"Dante!" I screamed, my voice tearing through the chaotic roar of the firefight.

He whipped his head toward the sound of my voice. The sheer terror that flashed across his face when he saw me standing exposed in the doorway was paralyzing.

"Alina, get down!" Dante roared, firing a suppressing burst from his pistol to cover my movement.

I didn't hesitate. I dove behind a massive, overturned catering cart, the metal ringing loudly as bullets sparked off the steel surface mere inches from my head. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the coppery scent of blood.

"Where are your men?" I yelled, crawling desperately across the floor littered with broken champagne flutes, trying to close the distance to Dante’s position.

"The Russians jammed the comms and locked the perimeter doors!" Dante shouted back, reloading his weapon with a practiced, mechanical speed. "It’s a kill box! They bought off the hotel security!"

A mercenary flanked the marble table, raising his assault rifle toward Dante’s blind spot.

I didn't think. I reacted. I grabbed a heavy, discarded silver wine bucket from the floor and hurled it with all my strength. It struck the mercenary squarely in the side of the head. He staggered, his shot going wide, shattering a mirror on the wall.

Dante capitalized instantly, standing up and dropping the disoriented shooter with two precise shots to the chest.

He lunged across the open space, grabbing me by the waist and dragging me securely behind the heavy marble table. He crushed me against his chest, his breathing ragged and heavy.

"You came back," Dante breathed, staring at me as if I were a hallucination. "You ran into a gunfight for me."

"I'm not leaving you," I vowed fiercely, gripping the lapels of his ruined tuxedo. "My mother is here. She warned me. It’s the Russians."

Dante’s eyes narrowed, processing the tactical nightmare in milliseconds. "If the Russians are here, they want a public execution. We can't hold this position. We have to make it to the kitchen service tunnels."

He pressed a spare, compact pistol into my hands. "Do exactly what I do. And Alina?"