“I Bought You So You’d Beg”—The Billionaire Crime King Paid $50 Million for the Wrong Daughter

Dante didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Evelyn’s waist, tackling her across the concrete floor just as the ten-ton steel shipping container crashed down with a deafening, bone-shattering BOOM.

Concrete dust, rusty metal fragments, and wooden splinters exploded in every direction.

Evelyn gasped as they tumbled across the floor, Dante’s body completely shielding hers from the falling debris. They slammed into a stack of rubber tires, coming to a halt in the darkness.

Dante groaned—a low, pained sound that vibrated against her chest.

Evelyn opened her eyes. She was pressed beneath him, her hands resting against his broad chest. She felt something hot and wet dripping onto her neck.

"Dante!" she gasped, looking up.

In the dim emergency lighting, she saw a jagged piece of rusted rebar sticking out from his upper shoulder, soaking his dark cashmere jacket in thick, dark crimson.

"I'm fine," Dante growled through gritted teeth, his breath coming in sharp, shallow ragged gasps.

"You're bleeding!" she cried, her hands instantly flying to his shoulder, trying to apply pressure.

Automatic gunfire shattered the silence of the warehouse again. Leo and the remaining Bellamy guards were laying down suppressive fire toward the high catwalks where snipers were positioned.

"Leo!" Dante called out, his voice strained but commanding. "Flank the south stairs! Don't let them hit the fuel tanks!"

Dante looked down at Evelyn. Despite the blood soaking his coat, despite the agonizing wound in his shoulder, his dark eyes were burning with a fierce, protective intensity that made her breath catch.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, her fingers covered in his blood.

"Good. Because we're getting out of here."

Dante reached up with his uninjured hand, grabbed the rusted piece of metal sticking out of his shoulder, and pulled it out with a single, brutal yank. He didn't scream; he merely gritted his teeth so hard a vein bulged against his temple.

Evelyn stared at him in horror and awe. "You're insane."

"I'm alive," he corrected, ripping a strip of cloth from his shirt and handing it to her. "Tie this tight around the wound. Right now."

Evelyn didn't argue. She leaned in close, her face inches from his chest, wrapping the cloth around his massive shoulder and pulling it into a tight knot. She could feel the rapid, powerful thud of his heart beneath her palms.

Dante looked down at her dark head, watching her focus through the panic. A strange, unfamiliar shift occurred in his chest—a sudden, sharp realization that this woman, who should have been his bitterest enemy, was currently holding his life in her blood-stained hands.

"Done," she panted, looking up into his eyes.