Saving and Loving a Mafia

The night was supposed to be quiet.

Olive Navarro leaned against the nurse’s station, rubbing her tired eyes. Twelve hours on her feet, and she only had ten minutes left before she could finally clock out. The hospital lights hummed softly above her, and the rain tapped against the windows like a slow, lonely song.

“Just one calm night,” she whispered.

Ten minutes later, she was already in the locker room, changing out of her scrubs. Her shoulders ached, her legs felt heavy, and all she could think about was her bed. A co-nurse walked in, still in uniform, her eyes dull with exhaustion.

“Going home already?” the woman asked.

Olive nodded.

“You’re lucky,” the nurse said with a tired smile. “I still have hours.”

“Good luck,” Olive replied softly. “You’ve got this.”

She walked out of the hospital, passing doctors and nurses she knew. “Good evening,” she said. “Take care.” “You too, Olive. Get home safe,” they answered.

She checked her watch. 10:00 PM. She thought about stopping at the open coffee shop nearby, but her body begged her to go straight home. She waved at a taxi, climbed in, and gave her address. Her home was an hour away from Dominic Verci Hospital.

The rain, the quiet road, and the gentle hum of the engine slowly pulled her into sleep. Her head leaned against the window as her eyes closed.

She woke with a start when the car suddenly stopped.

She looked outside. They were still far from her home—about thirty minutes away. “Sir?” she asked. “Why did we stop?”

The driver sighed. “Battery problem, miss. I’m really sorry. I already called a tow truck.”

“How long will it take?” she asked, trying not to sound too tired.

“I need to bring it to an auto shop for replacement.”

Olive looked at her watch. 10:55 PM. She stared out the window. The road was empty. No lights. No houses. Only trees and darkness.

The driver looked ashamed. “Miss, you don’t have to pay. I’m really sorry I can’t take you to your place.”

Olive looked at him. He looked old, stressed, and embarrassed. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “I’ll just walk to the nearest bus stop. Maybe there’s still a bus.”

“Thank you,” the man said. “I’m really sorry.”

She stepped out of the taxi and watched it disappear down the road.

The place felt wrong. The wind whispered through the trees, and shadows stretched across the road. She suddenly remembered—her brother could pick her up. She pulled out her phone.

5%.

“I forgot to charge,” she muttered.

She called. No answer. Again. No answer. A third time. Still nothing.

Her phone went dead.

“Great,” she whispered, tired and frustrated.

She started walking toward where she hoped the bus stop was. After a while, she turned back—and realized she couldn’t see the taxi anymore.

Then she heard it.

A cough. Weak. Struggling.

Her body shivered. “Hello?” she called, her voice shaking. “Is someone there?”

The sound came from the side of the road, near the forest.

Then a voice answered, faint but clear in the silence. “H-help…”

Fear tightened her chest, but her nurse instincts spoke louder. Someone needed help.

She followed the voice slowly. “Where are you? Do you have a flashlight? Can you make a sound?”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, “Here… please…”

She pushed through the shadows—and saw him.

A man lay on the ground in a black coat. His clothes were torn and dirty. Blood stained his coat and skin. Cuts marked his arms and side. His hair was messy, his face streaked with blood and a small wound near his brow.

Even like this… he was handsome.

And even injured, his eyes were sharp. Dangerous. Controlled. Not defeated.

Her heart thumped hard.

She immediately moved toward him. She knelt beside him, hands already shaking as she reached for his wounds.

Then she remembered—her phone.

She grabbed it from her pocket, hoping, praying, that somehow it had come back to life. But the screen stayed black. Dead battery. Her chest tightened.

“Okay… don’t panic,” she whispered to herself.

Even in the dark, she could see him growing paler. The weak yellow light from a distant streetlamp barely reached them, but it was enough for her to see how bad it was.

She leaned closer and examined him. One wound made her breath hitch—a deep cut near his side that looked like a stab. Blood was still spilling from it.

“Oh God…” she murmured.

She quickly opened her bag, pulled out her scarf, and pressed it firmly against the wound. Her hands were shaking, but she forced herself to stay steady.

“Hey,” she said softly but firmly, looking into his eyes. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes. You hear me? Hang on.”

Her heart started racing. Who did this to him? How long had he been lying there? And how was she supposed to get him to a hospital?

She looked around helplessly—trees, darkness, silence.

Then it hit her.

The taxi driver.

He had called a tow truck. Someone would come.

She looked back at the man. “I’m going to get help, okay?” she said quickly. “Just stay right here. Don’t move. I’ll be back. I promise.”

She was about to stand when suddenly—

His hand shot out weakly and grabbed her wrist.