Lahat ng Kabanata ng I saved a mafia boss by accident : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 6

Leaning forward and placing trembling fingers against the dead man's chest, I blew frothy breaths into the darkness while the wind howled around me and bit through my soaked clothes. “Come on,” I urged, pushing harder. “Don’t do this to me.” One. Two. Three. But Still nothing. I tilted his head up, frozen fingers slipping against his skin while pushing in another breath. Thuds in my chest. The world, sounds, thoughts receded around me. Nothing but the man beneath and the nauseating stillness in his chest existed. “Breathe, damn it!” My throat hurt, dry and rough with desperation. “Please don’t die”. Then— A sharp, gagging breath. Water spewed forth from his lips as his body spasmed, gasping for breath like a man deprived of life. Relief struck me so forcefully my limbs weakened. He was alive. But we weren't safe yet. The ice creaked in protest under our weight, buckling beneath our load. I gritted my teeth and rushed, yanking him under his arms and hauling him towards shor

Gunshots pierced the silence. The flat door slammed wide, sending splinters flying across the room as heavy boots thudded on the floor. I stopped breathing because my heart was pounding so loudly that I could hear it in my ears. A powerful arm reached out before I could respond, pushing me back. Lorenzo said, "Stay down," in a clear, quiet voice. I instinctively pushed myself against the couch and fell to the ground behind it. My body was screaming for me to go, but my senses told me that any quick movement could kill me. Shadows streamed in through the broken door, hazy forms moving in the low light. Lorenzo stiffened and grabbed the nearest object from the end table, a heavy glass ashtray.It was not substantial, yet the manner in which he grasped it, as if he could take a life with it, convinced me it was equally lethal as a firearm in his grip. A towering person advanced, holding his firearm up. "Stand back!" The tone was strong. Known. I looked over the side of the couch,

As Isla rushed along the sidewalk, her boots crunching on the snow-laden pavement, the morning air felt severe and unforgiving. Before her, each breath formed a delicate mist that dissipated into the chill. She pushed her hands further into her coat pockets, the icy wind seeping through the frayed material. She arrived late. Once more. Her thoughts were entangled with concerns—her approaching exams, the perpetual hospital shifts, the mounting debt burdening her. Rest was a luxury she couldn't obtain, and coffee had turned into her salvation. She was weary, fatigued, and hardly keeping it together. A persistent pain pulsed in her temple, yet she disregarded it, concentrating instead on the crosswalk in front of her. The light had just changed to red, providing her an opportunity to cross before traffic increased again. However, she didn’t notice the vehicle. Not before it was too late. The sound of a horn. The cry of tires on icy surface. Her head jerked up just as glaring headli