Bound To The Ruthless Mafia Boss

Elena hated nights like this.

The kind where sleep felt impossible, where her mind refused to shut down no matter how exhausted her body was. She'd already tried everything—counted backward from a thousand, listened to those stupid meditation podcasts Annie kept recommending, even considered taking one of the sleeping pills Dr. Martinez had prescribed months ago.

Nothing worked.

So here she was at eleven PM on a Tuesday, driving through Chicago with no real destination in mind. Just her, the hum of the engine, and the dim glow of streetlights passing overhead. Sometimes driving helped. Sometimes it didn't. Tonight, she wasn't sure which it would be.

Her phone buzzed in the cupholder, and Annie's name lit up the screen.

Elena ignored it.

She loved her best friend, really she did. But she wasn't in the mood for another "you need to see a therapist" lecture. Annie meant well, she always did, but she was living her best life in Tokyo, working for some fancy tech company and probably eating amazing ramen right now. She didn't understand what it was like to be stuck here, alone, and haunted by memories that wouldn't fade.

Elena turned down a random street, not paying much attention to where she was heading. That was mistake number one.

Mistake number two was not noticing how the neighborhood had changed. The buildings here were darker, more industrial, and had fewer streetlights. No cars. No people.

Mistake number three was not locking her damn doors.

It happened so fast she barely had time to process it.

One second, she was slowing down at a stop sign. The next, she heard shouting in the distance, then gunshots.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Her heart skipped a beat. She ducked instinctively even though the sounds were far away, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

What the hell was that?

She looked around, trying to figure out where the shots came from. The street was empty except for a few warehouses and what looked like abandoned lots. Shadows moved in the distance. She heard more shouting, and running footsteps.

"Okay, time to go," she muttered, pressing down on the gas pedal.

But before she could speed off, her passenger door flew open.

Elena screamed as a man threw himself into her car, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make the whole vehicle shake. He was huge—way too big for her small sedan, and there was blood everywhere. His white shirt was soaked red on one side, the stain spreading across his ribs.

"Drive," he growled.

She stared at him, frozen in shock. His face was all hard angles, with ice-blue eyes. He looked dangerous, like the kind of man you crossed the street to avoid.

Then he pulled out a gun.

"I said drive!"

Elena's hands shot up automatically, her whole body trembling. "Okay! Okay, I'm driving!"

She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. Her hands moved on autopilot, shifting the car into drive and hitting the gas so hard her tires squealed against the pavement.

Behind them, more gunshots rang out. She flinched, ducking her head even though she was already moving.

"Faster," the man said through gritted teeth.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" she snapped back, fear making her bold. "Where am I even supposed to go?!"

"Anywhere. Just get us out of here."

She took a sharp left turn, then a right, weaving through streets she didn't recognize. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might actually burst out of her chest. She kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He was pressing his hand against his side, his jaw clenched tight. Blood was dripping onto her seat.

Oh God. Oh God, this wasn't happening.

"You need a hospital," she said, her voice shaking.

"No."

"You're bleeding everywhere!"

"I said no hospitals." His tone made it clear there would be no arguing.

"Then where do you want me to take you? A veterinarian? A butcher shop? You're literally going to bleed out in my car!"

He didn't answer. His breathing was getting heavier, and raspier. His face had gone pale, making the blood on his shirt look even brighter.

Elena's doctor instincts kicked in despite the terror coursing through her veins. She'd seen gunshot wounds before during her residency in the ER. This one looked bad. Really bad. He was losing too much blood too fast.

"Look, I can't just drive around aimlessly while you bleed to death," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Do you have somewhere you need to go or not?"

He turned to look at her then, and for just a moment their eyes met. His were a striking shade of blue,, but there was something else there too. Pain?. Exhaustion?. Maybe even desperation.

"Your place," he said finally.

"What?! Absolutely not!"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yes! A hospital! Like a normal person who's been shot!"

"Can't." His voice was getting weaker. "They'll find me there."

"Who will find you? What did you even do?!"

He didn't answer. His eyes were starting to glaze over, his head lolling slightly to one side.

"Hey!" She reached over with one hand and shook his shoulder, briefly taking her eyes off the road. "Stay awake! Don't you dare pass out in my car!"

He grunted but didn't respond with actual words.

Elena cursed under her breath. This was completely insane. She should drive straight to a police station, or a hospital. Literally anywhere but her apartment.

But if he died in her car, she'd be implicated. The police would have questions. So many questions. Why didn't you call for help immediately? Why did you bring him to your apartment? And she couldn't exactly explain that he'd forced her at gunpoint because then they'd want to know why she didn't drive to a station in the first place.

"Fine," she muttered, mostly to herself. "Fine! My place it is. But if you die, I swear I'm dumping your body in the Chicago River."

He made a sound that might have been a laugh. Or maybe just a groan of pain. It was hard to tell.

She drove faster, taking the most direct route back to her neighborhood. Her mind was racing almost as fast as her heartbeat. What was she doing? This man was clearly a criminal. He had a gun. He'd been in some kind of shootout.

But he was also bleeding a lot. And she was a doctor. She'd taken an oath. She couldn't just let someone die, even if that someone had just hijacked her car.

Right?

She pulled into her apartment building's parking lot and killed the engine. The man's head was leaning against the window now, his eyes half-closed.

"Hey," she said, shaking him again. "We're here. Can you walk?"

He mumbled something completely incoherent.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Elena got out and ran around to the passenger side, yanking the door open. She tried to pull him out, but he was deadweight, and so incredibly heavy.

"Come on," she grunted, hooking her arm under his shoulder and around his back. "Work with me here, please."

He stirred slightly, enough to drape one arm over her shoulders. Together—well, mostly her dragging him, they stumbled toward the building entrance.

When she saw the stairs leading up to her second-floor apartment, Elena wanted to cry.

"You have got to be kidding me," she muttered, staring up at the two flights she'd have to somehow get him up.

This was going to be the longest night of her life.