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You’re Not Tired, Sir, You’re Drugged,” the Maid’s Little Girl Told the Mafia Boss Calmly / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - Blood and Harbor Fog

Ten minutes later, the estate’s security forces swept through the remaining pockets of the Moretti infiltrators, securing the grounds as police sirens wailed in the distance—sirens paid off to arrive late, but coming nonetheless.

Inside the study, I pulled the lever on the panic room door, tumbling out with Lucia clutching my hand.

Dominic was sitting on the edge of the mahogany desk, pressing a thick white bandage against his bleeding shoulder while Miller stood beside him, disinfecting the wound.

"Alina," Dominic breathed, looking up as we rushed toward him. His face was pale, slick with sweat, but his eyes were clear. "Are you both unhurt?"

"We're fine, but you're bleeding!" I cried, grabbing a clean linen towel from the nearby cart and pressing it over his shoulder alongside his hand. "You need a real surgeon, not Miller with a first-aid kit."

"I've survived worse than a stray bullet," Dominic grunted, though he winced as I pressed down on the wound.

Lucia walked up slowly, standing right beside his knee. She looked up at him with big, serious eyes, her small hand reaching out to gently touch the sleeve of his blood-stained jacket.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly.

Dominic looked down at her, a faint, genuine smile breaking through his hardened expression. He placed his heavy, calloused hand gently on top of her dark curls. "A little bit, little bird. But I'll live."

"My mama knows how to make magic tea," Lucia said earnestly. "It makes owies go away."

Dominic chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to chase away the last remnants of the terror in the room. "I bet she does."

Suddenly, the heavy double doors pushed open, and Miller stepped in, looking grim. "Boss, the police are at the outer gates. But more importantly, we intercepted an encrypted transmission from the top. The head of the Moretti family is fleeing the country tonight from the private docks in South Boston. They're broken."

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Dominic slowly stood up, rolling his uninjured shoulder. The vulnerability vanished in an instant, replaced once again by the indomitable presence of the ruler of Boston’s underworld.

"Miller," Dominic said coldly, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "Gather the transport. We're going to the docks. Tonight, this war ends permanently."

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