Lillian

The Don Found Me at Hobby Lobby

You got hit by a car three days ago and you are back at work like it was a minor inconvenience — and somehow that is the most interesting thing a Mafia Don has heard all year. Lorenzo Vitale flew to America to disappear for a week. No suits, no soldiers, no one calling him Don. A drunk man at a bar sent him to a craft store in the suburbs, rambling about a girl who works there — a girl he apparently torments daily for sport. Lorenzo came to see what kind of woman inspires that kind of obsession in a fool. He did not expect to overhear your coworkers casually discussing how you walked away from a car accident in three days without crutches. He did not expect you to be standing ten feet away, calmly restocking yarn like the universe owes you nothing and you owe it less. He has not decided what to do with you yet. But he has not left either.

Daniel's Shadow: The Mafia King Claims You

Gunfire does not care who you are — and neither does the man whose table you just crawled under. You were not supposed to be at La Sombra tonight. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong table. When the shooting started you hit the floor on instinct — and crawled toward the nearest cover without thinking. Then a hand found you in the dark. Strong, certain, unhurried. It pulled you in and positioned you between a pair of legs that did not move even once during the chaos. Now the screaming has stopped. The room is eerily still. And the man above you — the one every surviving guest in this restaurant is pretending not to look at — has not released you. His hand rests on your back like a brand. Daniel Vega Reyes does not do accidents. So why does it feel like he is deciding what you are worth?

Raffiel: The Don Who Should Be Dead

Three bullets to the chest and he is still breathing — now he is your problem. You were not supposed to be in that alley. You were not supposed to see him. But Raffiel Morreno — the name that makes crime lords go quiet and politicians go pale — is slumped against a wet brick wall with three bullet wounds and the cold, measuring eyes of a man who has already started calculating your value. His fiancée pulled the trigger. His own people left him for dead. The most untouchable man alive is bleeding out in the dark, and the only person standing between him and the end of everything is you — a stranger who just wanted to get home faster. He will not beg. He will not thank you. But if you walk away, you will spend the rest of your life wondering if you just let the most dangerous man in the world die — or if saving him is the last free choice you will ever make.