She faints in a grocery store—but the mafia boss who catches her notices hidden bruises and uncovers a truth that changes everything

with tinted windows and a driver who never spoke. Boston slid past the glass in a blur of brick, traffic lights, and November rain. Allara sat beside a crime boss and tried to work out whether she had been pulled from a nightmare — or delivered into a darker one.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“My home. Seaport District. You’ll have your own room and continue reading …