THE MAFIA'S OBSESSION

ELENA..... “Goodnight, Hazza!” I waved at my friend and co-worker as I strolled out of the hospital. My handbag dangled lazily from my arm, swinging toward the back seat of my car the moment I opened it. My body ached from exhaustion; the only thing on my mind was the soft embrace of my bed waiting at home. I had just finished my ER shift by 3 a.m., and Hazza was taking over till sunrise. The thought of my little routine, curling up under a blanket while watching one of those late-night romance movies... made me smile. “I wonder what Della will do when she finally discovers Derek’s a fraud,” I whispered to myself with a grin, glancing at my reflection in the rearview mirror. The radio blasted my favorite song, volume high, and I let the rhythm carry me. The road was quiet, almost hauntingly still, the kind of silence that only existed in the dead of night. My thoughts drifted, my body swaying slightly to the tune, until a shadow staggered into my lane. Screeech! My foot slammed hard on the brake, tires shrieking against asphalt. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. “What the hell—” A man collapsed right in front of my headlights, clutching his chest, blood spilling through his fingers. The sight froze me for a split second before instinct snapped me into motion. I threw my door open and ran toward him. His breaths were ragged, shallow. His once-expensive black suit was drenched in crimson, torn open to reveal a branded Calvin Klein undershirt now ruined with blood. He looked powerful even in weakness.. like wealth and danger clung to his very skin. “Help… me…” His lips barely formed the words before his eyes rolled back, his body going limp. Panic surged through me. “Don’t you dare die on me, mister!” My voice shook, but my hands were steady as adrenaline kicked in. He had lost far too much blood already. Judging by the location of the wound, the bullet wasn’t far from his heart. “s**t, s**t, s**t…” I muttered, dragging his weight with every ounce of strength I had. He was heavy, muscle under that tailored suit, not someone who should be bleeding out on the side of a lonely road. With one last desperate effort, I managed to heave him into the back seat of my car. My heart raced, sweat trickling down my temple, but I didn’t stop. Slamming the door, I slid behind the wheel, turned the car around, and pressed the accelerator. The hospital. That was his only chage. Getting to the hospital felt like forever. My tires screeched against the asphalt as I swerved recklessly into the parking lot. Hazza was already peeking outside, her eyes wide at the sound of my frantic arrival. “Hazza!” I shouted, throwing my car door open. “Help me!” She rushed toward me, her confusion morphing into shock when she saw me dragging a bloodied man out of my back seat. “What the—” Her jaw dropped. “No time!” I snapped, my voice shaking. “He needs medical attention. Now!” “Hell yeah, he does,” Hazza muttered, panic flooding her face as she slid under the man’s other arm to help me lift him. Together we staggered inside, his weight crushing but my adrenaline fueling me forward. We slammed his body down onto a rolling stretcher and pushed toward the emergency operating room. My phone buzzed in my bag, Daniel’s name flashing across the screen. For a second, guilt pinched me. But there was no time, not now. Whoever this stranger was, he was bleeding to death. “Prep the OR!” I yelled, though my voice cracked halfway. Hazza barked orders at the night staff, but my attention was locked on him. His hand was clamped tightly around mine. I hadn’t even realized it until I tried to pull away to put on gloves, and failed. His grip was iron, refusing to let me go. Even unconscious, he held onto me like I was the only tether keeping him alive. My breath caught. The bright lights of the operating room bathed his face in sterile white. Dark hair, thick and unruly, swept back like it belonged there. A sharp jawline, a straight, defined nose, and lips shaped with almost cruel perfection. Blood stained his chest, but his features, his features were untouched, godlike, carved from stone. My heart skipped painfully in my chest. Who was this man? And why did I feel like he wasn’t a stranger at all, but someone whose presence demanded attention, even on the brink of death? The bullet wasn’t far from his heart. I should have been focused on the surgery, on saving him. But instead, I found myself staring, frozen by the quiet strength in the way he held onto me, refusing to let go. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. This wasn’t just some victim of random violence. No. Men like him, men in suits like that, with bodies trained to endure pain, didn’t just stumble into ERs. After hours under the blinding lights, I finally peeled my gloves off. My arms ached, my eyes stung, and every muscle in my body screamed for rest. But the man, my patient, whoever he was lived. The bullet was out, the bleeding controlled. He would survive. And only then, when his grip slackened, did I realize how long his hand had been locked around mine. Exhaling shakily, I slipped free and walked out of the operating room. My steps were heavy, dragging me toward my office where I nearly collapsed into my chair. “That was one hell of a wound, Elyy,” Hazza muttered as she stretched her arms with a wide yawn before flopping onto a seat. “Where did you even find him?” I rubbed at my temple. The image of his blood-soaked suit, his chiseled face under the harsh OR lights, wouldn’t leave my mind. Why do I still feel his touch on my hand? “I just… stumbled on him. On the road,” I said carefully, avoiding Hazza’s curious stare. My phone buzzed again. Dozens of missed calls. Daniel. I sighed, guilt tightening my chest as I scrolled through his messages. He must have been worried sick. Quickly, I dialed him back. “Hey, love,” I said softly, smiling despite the exhaustion. Just the sound of his voice wrapped around me like a blanket, a peace I’d always known. Daniel Carter. My fiancé. My soon-to-be husband. “Love, where the hell have you been? I left you tons of texts and calls,” he scolded, though the worry was clear in his tone. “I’m okay. We just had an emergency at the hospital. I’m still here,” I murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Woo, someone’s in love,” Hazza teased from across the room, her grin wicked. She gave me a knowing look, and I threw a pen at her, rolling my chair to the far corner like a sulking child. Daniel’s voice softened, coaxing me back. “I miss you, Elena. You could quit this nursing job, you know. My net worth is more than enough for two.” I closed my eyes. Not this again. “Daniel—” “I know, I know,” he cut in gently, finishing for me. “You have a passion for it.” That made me laugh, the sound tired but genuine. “You know me too well.” He chuckled. “Too well, my love. Go home soon, alright? I don’t like you there at night.” I hummed in response, smiling faintly. He was sweet. Gentle. Everything I thought I wanted. So why, even now, did my mind still drift back to the man lying in that room, his blood staining my hands, his touch still lingering like a brand on my skin?