No Nurse Lasted a Week with the Ruthless Mafia Boss — Until the Poor Nurse Broke the Rules
Protocol Zero
Dante lay on the wet concrete, blood pooling around him, watching the only light in his life disappear into the shadows. He didn’t pass out.
He didn’t die. Instead, a cold, ancient rage filled him.
It numbed the pain. It slowed his heart.
He reached into his boot and pulled out a backup phone, a burner he kept for emergencies. His fingers left bloody smears on the screen as he dialed.
“Vance,”
he whispered into the phone.
“Initiate Protocol Zero.”
“Sir?”
Vance’s voice crackled, sounding terrified.
“Protocol Zero burns everything. It’s total war.”
“They took her,”
Dante said, staring at the empty tunnel.
“Burn it all down. I want every shooter in Chicago on the street in 10 minutes. Nobody sleeps, nobody eats, until I get her back.”
He dropped the phone and forced himself to stand up. He was bleeding, he was broken, and he was outnumbered.
But they had made a mistake. They left the devil alive, and now he was coming for his soul.
The location was an abandoned shipyard in the industrial district, a graveyard of rusted steel and rotting wood jutting out into the icy waters of Lake Michigan. It was the kind of place where screams were swallowed by the wind.
Violet sat zip-tied to a metal chair in the center of a cavernous warehouse. Her scrub top was torn, and a bruise was forming on her cheek, but her eyes were dry.
She was analyzing the room: four exits, six guards. Silas Thorne was pacing in front of her like a caged tiger.
“He’s not coming, you know,”
Silas sneered, checking his watch.
“He’s bleeding out in a sewer somewhere. Smartest thing he could do is die quietly.”
“You don’t know him,”
Violet said, her voice steady despite the cold.
“And you don’t know anatomy. The human body can survive immense trauma if the will is strong enough. And his will? It’s terrifying.”
Silas laughed, leaning in close.
“You think this is a fairy tale? You think the beast comes to save beauty? This is business. Dante Moretti loves his empire more than—”
The Consequences of Stupidity
The lights went out. Total, suffocating darkness swallowed the warehouse.
The hum of the generator died with a sputtering cough.
“Backup power!”
Silas screamed, pulling his gun.
“Get the flashlights!”
Crash! The skylight thirty feet above shattered—not from a stone, but from a body rappelling down.
Flares popped, bathing the warehouse in blinding red light. Gunfire erupted from the catwalks above.
It wasn’t a spray of bullets; it was precise, rhythmic double-taps: thip-thip, thip-thip. Silas’s men started dropping.
“Kill her!”
Silas shrieked, spinning around to find Violet in the chaos.
He aimed his gun at her chest. Violet squeezed her eyes shut.
Bang! The shot didn’t hit her; it hit Silas’s hand.
His gun flew across the concrete. He howled in pain, clutching his shattered fingers.
Violet opened her eyes. Standing at the edge of the flare’s red glow was Dante.
He looked like a nightmare. His coat was gone, his shirt was soaked in blood, and his face was pale as death.
But he was standing. He held a smoking pistol in his right hand, his left arm pressed tight against his injured side.
“I told you,”
Dante rasped, his voice carrying over the groans of the dying men.
“I want my soul back.”
Silas scrambled backward, slipping on the wet floor.
“You’re dead! You should be dead!”
“I am,”
Dante said, stepping closer. Every step looked like agony, but he didn’t stop.
“I died 5 days ago when I met her. The man standing here? He’s just the consequences of your stupidity.”
Silas lunged for a knife on his belt. Dante didn’t even flinch.
He fired one shot into Silas’s leg, dropping him to his knees. Then he walked up and kicked the knife away.
The warehouse fell silent, save for the wind whistling through the broken glass. The guards were neutralized.
A Permanent Position for Life
It was just the three of them. Dante holstered his gun.
He didn’t look at Silas; he looked at Violet. He walked over to her, his hands trembling as he pulled a knife to cut her ties.
“Are you hurt?”
he asked, his voice breaking.
“Just a bruise,”
Violet whispered, rubbing her wrists.
She looked at his side. The blood was flowing freely now.
“Dante, you need a hospital. Now.”
“Not yet.”
Dante turned back to Silas, who was sobbing on the floor.
“Please!”
Silas begged.
“I’ll give you the territory! I’ll leave Chicago! Just let me go!”
Dante looked down at him with cold indifference.
“You threatened my family.”
“She’s just a nurse!”
Silas cried.
“She’s my wife,”
Dante said. Violet froze.
Silas froze.
“Or she will be,”
Dante amended, glancing at her,
“if she doesn’t kill me for this.”
He turned to Vance, who had just entered from the side door with a team of cleaners.
“Vance, handle the trash.”
“Understood, sir,”
Vance said, nodding at Silas.
Dante put his arm around Violet, leaning heavily on her.
“Take me home, nurse. I think I finally need that sedative.”
Three days later, the private room at Chicago Children’s Hospital was filled with balloons. Toby was sitting up, pale but smiling, breathing on his own with the new lungs.
Violet stood by the window, watching the snow fall. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she stood in her kitchen staring at the overdue bills.
The Only Two Left Standing
The door opened. Dante walked in.
He was using a cane now, and his movements were stiff, but he was dressed in a sharp charcoal suit. He didn’t look like a patient anymore; he looked like the king of Chicago.
“How is he?”
Dante asked, nodding toward Toby.
“Dr. Hayes says his stats are perfect,”
Violet said. She turned to face him.
“They said the donor was an anonymous match from out of state, but the transport was expedited by a private jet.”
Dante shrugged.
“Logistics are my specialty.”
“You did everything,”
Violet said.
“You saved him.”
“You saved me, and you saved me, Dante,”
Violet said.
He walked over to her.
“I fired the staff, Violet. All of them. Everyone. The maids, the cooks, the guards. I’m starting over. New team. People I can trust.”
“That sounds lonely,”
Violet said.
“It is,”
Dante admitted.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“That’s why I have a job opening. It’s a permanent position. No salary, but the benefits are unlimited.”
Violet’s heart stopped.
“Dante—”
“I’m not a good man, Violet,”
he said, his dark eyes intense.
“I’ve done terrible things. I have enemies. Living with me… it’s not safe. It’s not normal.”
“But I can’t breathe when you’re not in the room. I can’t sleep unless I know you’re there.”
He opened the box. Inside was a ring—not a gaudy diamond, but a rare deep green emerald, the color of life amidst the black steel of his world.
“Violet Sterling,”
he whispered.
“Will you be the last nurse I ever hire?”
Violet looked at the ring. She looked at Toby, safe and breathing.
She looked at the man who had walked through gunfire and sewers just to keep a promise. She thought about the rules.
She thought about the danger. Then she smiled.
“I have one condition,”
she said.
Dante raised an eyebrow.
“Anything.”
“No more shooting people in the living room. It ruins the carpet.”
Dante grinned—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes.
“Deal.”
He slipped the ring on her finger. He kissed her right there in the hospital room, sealing a pact that was more binding than any blood oath.
The devil of Chicago had finally been tamed, not by a bullet and not by a rival, but by the one thing he never saw coming: a poor nurse who simply refused to let him die. And that is how Violet Sterling went from drowning in debt to ruling the Chicago underworld beside the most dangerous man in the city.
It turns out the most powerful medicine in the world isn’t an antibiotic or a surgery; it’s loyalty. Dante Moretti thought he was hiring an employee, but he found a savior.
They say love conquers all, but in their world, love is just another kind of war. And they were the only two left standing.
The doctors said Dante’s heart was too damaged to ever fully recover. They were wrong; he just needed someone brave enough to restart it.
Wow, what a journey from a desperate $12 bank balance to the top of the empire. I have to ask you guys: if someone offered you $50,000 to spend a week with a dangerous stranger, would you take the risk or would you run the other way?
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