Page 31

Chapter thirty

Alessa

P ain tears through my back. The world blurs at the edges, and staying conscious feels like swimming against a riptide. Dominic ordered me to stay awake, so here I am, following his commands even half-dead.

“Open your eyes, baby.” His voice cuts through the fog, fingers tapping my cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness.

I force them open and realize I’m slumped against him. He cradles me, one arm pressing on my wound, the other gripping the back of my head.

Trees rush past in a hazy blur, the afternoon light burning my eyes. Dominic looks down at me, jaw tight, as I wince from the pain shooting through my body. God, I’m so tired. I just need to sleep—to make it stop.

“I can’t get a hold of her,” Luca says from the passenger seat, his voice trembling.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dominic snaps, his voice vibrating against me. With what little strength I have, I rub my thumb over his knee, trying to calm him. If he’s calm, so am I. And I need all the calm I can get.

“She’s not answering. Straight to voicemail.” Luca frowns through the rearview mirror. “She never misses a call.”

“Did you try the front desk?”

“I called her assistant. No answer.”

“Then call her house, goddamn it!”

“I did.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

Dominic shifts, and I can’t hold back a whimper. White-hot pain radiates through me. I can’t think. Can’t focus. Just breathe.

“I’m sorry, baby. We’re almost there,” he soothes, pressing his lips to my head, his grip tightening on my back. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving, but I trust him. Even as my vision doubles, as my heartbeat slows against my ear, I trust him. Because Dominic has always shown up for me.

I nuzzle against his neck, forcing a faint smile. The world tilts, my vision blurring. Dominic says something I can’t comprehend, and his hand taps my cheek as my eyes flutter shut.

“...GSW on the lower left flank, no exit wound.”

Too bright. Too loud. I can’t keep my eyes open. Is this what dying feels like?

“She’s hypotensive. Heart rate high. Unresponsive.”

Fingers pry my eyelids open, a light flickering between them. I want to push them away, but I can’t lift a finger. Instead, tears slip from the corners of my eyes.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

Pain. So much fucking pain.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Alessa .

I want to say Alessandra Colette Russo , but nothing comes out. Just a groan. I turn my head away from the light.

“Pupils reactive,” someone says. I can’t tell if it’s a man or woman. “But she’s in shock.”

Hands grab me. Move me. Hurt me. Machines beep. Voices bark orders. My eyes blur, but I see silhouettes hovering.

Where’s Dominic? Wasn’t I in his car? Did he leave me? No. I need to stay conscious. If I black out, I might not wake up. Breathe. Maybe then I’ll see where I am. Maybe then I’ll understand.

Someone rolls me onto my side. Agonizing pain shoots through me, stealing my breath. A snip cuts through the haze, followed by cool air as scissors slice through my top. Then—blinding, searing pain.

A raw, ragged scream rips from my throat. The sound doesn’t even feel like mine. Strangled. Broken.

Stop.

God, make it stop.

Please .

Then the world tilts. The voices fade.

Nothing.

But I fight. The darkness wants me. Hungers for me. Pulls me under. But I’m not ready.

“Fight, Alessa. Always fight.”

My mother’s voice, distant yet firm. I claw my way through the suffocating blackness, each inch forward costing me everything. My lungs burn. My mind fractures. But beyond this void, Dominic waits. That’s enough. That’s worth fighting for.

Voices. Familiar but distant. Pulling me back.

“...She hasn’t been at the hospital all day. That doesn’t sound alarming to you?”

“Gabriella’s a big girl with a medical degree, Luca. She doesn’t need your permission to take a day off.”

“I know, but Gabriella never just —”

A soft rasp escapes me as I turn my head toward the voices. Slow, foggy thought creeps in.

I’m alive.

Two figures to my right. Blurred. Unfocused. The steady beep of machines fills my ears. Through the window, the sky melts into indigo and violet. City lights flicker to life.

“Alessa.”

Déjà vu. Another hospital. Another brush with death. Machines beeping, my body aching.

“Luca, get the doctor.”

My limbs feel weighted, like there’s a wrecking ball pressing on my stomach. The gunshot wound is muted but present, dulled by IV painkillers. I try to move, but agony surges through me.

“Try not to move,” Dominic orders, turning on the light. I squint, but the brightness is nothing compared to the pain.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

And I’m not even joking. Medical equipment clings to me like vines. I’m thankful for the nasal cannula helping me breathe, but the IV pulling at my skin and the sticky electrode pads irritate me.

Dominic chuckles, low and unconvincing. He’s changed into his usual black slacks and shirt, the sleeves stretched tight over his biceps. Even half-dead, I notice.

“Is this real?” My thoughts slip out before I can stop them. “Feels like a dream.”

“It’s real, baby,” he says with an exhausted smile. “But nice to see your sense of humor’s intact.”

“What happened?” My voice is hoarse, my throat raw.

“You were out for over five hours,” he says, but doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for me. Just crosses his arms like he’s holding himself back. I need to feel him—his warmth—without sounding desperate.

“Doc said you flatlined. You lost too much blood.”

My thoughts screech to a halt.

Flatlined?

Not almost died. Actually died.

I’ve danced with death since the crash that took my mother, but this time, it took me. And somehow, they pulled me back. It feels wrong , like life and I are playing cat and mouse, and I don’t know which I am.

“But I’m fine now. I’m alive.” My voice cracks. The weight of it sinks in. I died. My heart stopped. For how long? Seconds? Minutes? The thought chills me to my bones. I force a brittle smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“It kills me to see you like this, baby.” The pain in his voice makes me tear up, and I can see that he, too, is blinking away his tears as he straightens his back, trying to look unfazed. But that trick doesn’t work on me. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Come here.” I pat the bed beside me. He doesn’t move.

I need him. So fucking much. Facing death changes you. Makes you realize what matters.

“You’re not gonna make me beg, are you?” I smirk weakly. “Because I will get up and kneel if I have to.”

That does it. He sighs and sits beside me.

“Hold me.”

“Alessa, I—”

“Dominic, please! ”

Something in my voice makes him cave. He takes my hand, “even half-dead, you’re still the most dangerous thing in my life. Not because you could hurt me—but because losing you would destroy everything I am.”

And just like that, the pain isn’t as bad. I swallow hard, his words hitting deeper than any painkiller could. “God, when you say things like that...” I touch his face gently. “If you say one more word, I swear I’ll pass out right here,” I manage, breathing through the pain. “You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?” His smile reaches his eyes this time.

“Look, Dominic.” I pause, forcing clarity through the haze of pain. “I knew what I was getting into. The Cosa Nostra isn’t a walk in the park. Things happen.” My fingers tighten around his, grounding myself. “Shit like this happens. But we survived. Raffy is dead. And once you get into the Commission...” I search his face, trying to break through the fortress of restraint. “We’re going to be okay.”

His jaw locks, eyes darkening. A muscle in his cheek twitches—a tell I’ve come to recognize. He’s holding back. “I’ve never been afraid of dying, Alessa. Not once. Death and I have been playing this game since I was a kid. But now, I’m terrified of not living enough days with you. Of missing a single moment. That’s new for me—counting days as precious instead of just another opportunity to spill blood. Before you, I was just surviving. Now I actually give a damn about tomorrow.”

“I can’t let you die in the Cosa Nostra, Alessa.” His voice is raw, weighted with something I rarely hear from him. “And I don’t want that on my conscience. I can’t lose someone else I care about... I’m sick of the shit.”

Care about. The words hang between us, unexpectedly tender. My heart stutters. He cares. Not just as his assignment. Not just as his lover. But as someone he can’t bear to lose.

I swallow hard. This isn’t the time to melt. It’s the time to make him understand.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” I say, though I soften the words with a squeeze of his hand. “I’ve made my choice, Dominic. You’re part of that choice.” I hold his gaze, steady and unwavering. “If gunshot wounds and bombings come with it… if your enemies become mine… I accept that.”

And I mean it. This life—the one I spent years running from—is mine now. Not because I’m trapped, but because I chose it. The Commission, the violence, the constant threat—I walk into it with my eyes wide open. “Alessandra, Everyone in my life wanted something from me—my loyalty, my muscle, my protection. You’re the first person who just wanted me. The good, the bad, all of it. And I’ll spend my life making sure you never regret that choice.”

Maybe this is what my mother tried to shield me from. But the bitter truth? I inherited more than just her green eyes and red hair. I inherited the steel in her spine, the fire in her blood. I am her daughter in every way that matters.

“Are you sure? Won’t you miss your old life? The one where you didn’t have to look over your shoulder? Where carrying a gun wasn’t second nature?”

“Let’s be real, Dom. If you got into my penthouse that easily, was it ever safe?”

“Too fucking easy.”

“Exactly,” I say wincing in pain. “And who’s to say I wasn’t carrying a gun anyway? There are at least five in that penthouse. The only difference now is I’m done pretending I can outrun this.”

“But you spent your whole life running from it.”

I grin, bringing the back of his hand to my lips. “And I’ll spend whatever is left with you.”

He exhales sharply, something shifting in his expression. Like he’s coming to terms with the inevitable.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. So can you stop with the bullshit? I’m part of this now.”

His eyes hold mine, searching. “Okay. But when this RICO case is handled—”

“You mean when you officially become part of the Commission.”

“Exactly. I want you training. Hard. No more slacking.”

I arch a brow. “And if I refuse?”

“Not an option. I need you safe. No more hospitals.”

“I won’t have to kill… will I?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Not unless you have to. But you need to be ready. Because if it’s your life or theirs…”

I nod slowly, already knowing where this road leads. “I get it.”

“Promise me, Alessa.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “If it’s your life on the line, you’ll pull the trigger.”

The Cosa Nostra is kill or be killed. I’ve always known that.

“I promise.” The words burn. A vow sealed in blood—my own. A line I never thought I’d cross. I spent years exposing monsters. Now I just promise to become one. My mother would be spinning in her grave… or maybe she’d nod in grim understanding. That thought haunts me.

The door opens, breaking the tension. A doctor steps in—male, tall, with copper-brown hair and hazel eyes peering through thick rimmed glasses. A binder in one hand, a stethoscope draped around his neck.

“Good evening, Mr. Gianelli, Ms. Russo.” He checks my IV. “I’m Doctor Whitmore. How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell off a thirty-story building.”

“That’s an understatement. Did Mr. Gianelli tell you that you flatlined on my table?”

“He did.”

Dominic doesn’t move from my side, his grip unwavering, his scent intoxicating as I focus on his presence.

“You’re lucky, Ms. Russo.”

Dominic leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Damn right she is.” His voice is low, meant only for me. His gaze locks onto mine, steady and sure, and when the corner of his mouth quirks up in that signature smirk, a quiet certainty settles over me—like no matter what happens, he’s got me.

I meet his gaze, steady and sure, his signature smirk hinting at something deeper. A quiet certainty settles over me—he’s got me.

“The bullet landed inches from your spine. Any closer, and we’d be talking paralysis, organ damage, internal bleeding… even death.”

“Jesus.”

“Well, someone was watching over you. We removed the bullet, but you suffered severe hemorrhaging.”

Dominic’s jaw clenches. “She’s going to be fine though, right...she’s not going to die?” I roll my eyes. Same question he asked Gabriella last time.

“She’ll be in the ICU for a bit, but barring complications, I see no reason she won’t make a full recovery.”

Relief flickers in Dominic’s eyes before he smothers it.

“Flatlining can cause confusion, memory loss, fatigue—”

“And how long until I get discharged?” I cut in. The last thing I want is to waste time in a hospital.

“A week. Minimum. We need to monitor you for complications.”

“She’ll stay as long as she needs to, Doc.”

Ugh. I hate hospitals.

“Fine. Can I at least get some water?”

“Your digestive system needs time to wake from the anesthesia, but I can get you ice chips. No solids for a few hours.”

“Great.”

“Pain levels?”

“On a scale of one to ten? Five hundred.”

He chuckles. “I’ll have the nurse adjust your IV, so you can rest.”

Hallelujah!

“Thanks, Doc.”

Doctor Whitmore scribbles in his binder, then moves to leave, but Dominic rises, stopping him.

“Have you seen Doctor Giovani today?”

Whitmore frowns. “No. I covered three of her surgeries.”

“Did she say where she’d be?”

“She didn’t. Which is odd—Doctor Giovani never misses a surgery.”

The words land like a gut punch.

Gabriella doesn’t just miss surgeries. She’s as dedicated to her practice as Dominic is to his empire.

Something’s wrong.

I catch the shift in Dominic—the subtle hardening of his gaze, the calculation ticking behind his eyes. The protective lover holding my hand vanishes. In his place stands the ruthless enforcer, assessing threats, weighing options—most of them deadly.

“Dom.” I squeeze his hand, pulling him back to me. “What’s happening? Where is she?”

His eyes flicker with hesitation. To shield me or to treat me as the partner I’ve chosen to be?

“I don’t know.” His jaw tightens. “But I’m going to find out.”

And God help anyone who stands in his way.

I chose this life. This man. This world.

Whatever comes next—we face it together.