“Gunman Behind You” — I Save Mafia Boss in Seconds!

The rain battered the tinted windows of the SUV.

I sat in the back, the leather seats smelling of cedar and expensive wax. Adrian sat beside me, leaving exactly one foot of space between us. He hadn’t spoken since we left the alley behind Bellavere.

Marcus drove. Leo rode shotgun, his eyes constantly scanning the mirrors.

I uncurled my fist. The sapphire necklace lay in my palm. The gold was tarnished, the clasp bent. David had sworn he left it in a cab. I had cried for a week.

"He sold it," I whispered into the silence of the car.

"Who did?" Adrian asked. His voice wasn't demanding. It was simply present, offering a space for the truth.

"My ex-fiancé," I replied, staring out at the blurred city lights. "He left me drowning in debt eighteen months ago. He told me he lost this necklace. But he didn't. He pawned it. Or used it as collateral."

"Collateral for what?"

"A business that never existed." I finally turned to look at him. "Why would a hitman have my necklace?"

"Because in my world, when someone wants a job done, they provide proof of the target's identity. A photograph is standard," Adrian explained calmly. "But if the target is someone they want to intimidate before the end... they send a personal item. A message."

My stomach plummeted. "You're saying that man came to the restaurant to kill me?"

"I'm saying someone wanted you dead, and they wanted you to know why right before it happened."

"But I don't owe your kind of people money," I said, my voice rising with panic. "I owe credit card companies. Banks."

"Banks don't send armed men to upscale restaurants." Adrian pulled a tablet from the seatback pocket and handed it to me. "Your ex-fiancé, David Aris. He didn't borrow from a bank."

I looked at the screen. It was a scanned ledger. David’s name was listed next to a staggering figure: $450,000.

But it was the name at the top of the ledger that made the blood leave my face.

Victor Moretti.

Even I knew that name. Moretti was the poison of the East Coast ports, a man who didn't just break legs when debts went unpaid; he erased whole families.

"David used my credit to open the shell company," I realized, the horror washing over me in cold waves. "He put my name on the Moretti debt."

"Yes," Adrian said softly.

"And you know this because...?"

"Because Victor Moretti and I are currently negotiating a peace treaty over the shipping lines. His ledgers are part of the audit." Adrian took the tablet back. "Moretti is tying up loose ends. Anyone attached to his bad debts is being eliminated to clean his books before our merger."

The SUV slowed, turning through a massive wrought-iron gate that opened silently into a private, tree-lined estate in Westchester.

"I have nothing," I said, my voice breaking. "I have no money, no family left to protect. Why would Moretti waste a hitman on me?"

"Because David isn't hiding from Moretti," Adrian said, stepping out of the car and offering me his hand. "David works for him now."

I froze in the doorway of the vehicle.

Before the shock could fully settle, the heavy oak doors of the mansion swung open. A little girl, no older than six, wearing pink dinosaur pajamas, ran out onto the covered portico.

"Uncle Adrian!" she cheered.

Adrian’s entire demeanor shifted. The cold, untouchable executive vanished. He dropped to one knee, catching the girl as she threw her arms around his neck.

"I told you to be in bed, Mia," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Mia pulled back, her big brown eyes fixing on me. She pointed a small finger. "Who is she?"

"This is Elara," Adrian said, standing up and resting a protective hand on Mia's shoulder. "She's going to stay with us for a little while."

Mia tilted her head, inspecting me. Then she reached into her pajama pocket and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper.

"Here," she said, holding it out to me. "The nice man who came to see Uncle Leo today gave me new crayons. I drew a picture."

I took the paper, managing a fragile smile. I unfolded it.

It was a drawing of a man in a black coat. But it wasn't a child's imagination. It was highly specific. The man had a silver scar on his cheek, and he was holding a blue necklace.