Pick Any Woman You Want, The Mafia Boss Said — But His Dog Led The Girl To A Poor Waitress Instead

He didn't look like a man; he looked like the angel of death.

Kendrick stormed through the shattered entrance followed by thirty heavily armed loyalists. In thirty seconds of ruthless, surgical violence, every mercenary remaining on the grounds was eliminated.

When Kendrick breached the grand hall, his eyes swept over the blood-soaked marble, over Barrett’s unconscious, mangled body, and landed on Willa.

She was kneeling on the floor, her hands covered in blood, desperately pressing a strip of torn linen against Titan’s wounded flank. Penny was crying quietly beside her, safe, unharmed, and clinging to Willa’s waist.

Kendrick dropped his weapon. The fearsome mafia don fell to his knees beside them, his hands shaking violently as he pulled both Willa and Penny into his arms.

"I have you," he choked out, his voice cracking with an emotion none of his men had ever heard from him before. "I have you. You're safe. My God, Willa... you're safe."

Penny buried her face in her father’s neck, her little arms wrapping around him. "Willa hit the bad man, Daddy! Willa and Titan saved me!"

Kendrick looked over Penny’s head at Willa. Her hands were trembling, her white blouse soaked in Titan’s blood, but her eyes were clear, fierce, and brimming with tears of relief.

"Titan took a bullet for her, Kendrick," she wept. "Please, save him. Don't let him die."

Kendrick immediately barked orders. "Marcus! Get the syndicate surgeon here immediately! If that dog dies, none of you get paid for a year! Move!"

Within twenty minutes, Titan was stabilized on the library sofa, the bullet cleanly extracted and his wound neatly stitched. The massive dog gave a weak thump of his tail against the leather cushions as Willa gently stroked his folded, wrinkled ears.

In the basement below, Barrett Hayes awoke to find himself tied to an iron chair in the pitch dark.

The lone overhead bulb flickered on. Kendrick Ashford stood before him, rolling up the sleeves of his bloodstained white shirt. There was no anger on Kendrick's face—only an absolute, terrifying void.

"Kendrick... wait, let's talk," Barrett whimpered, his broken arm dangling uselessly, his teeth chattering in terror. "It was just business! The commission... the council will never allow you to execute me!"

"The council no longer exists, Barrett," Kendrick said softly, picking up a heavy steel blade from the metal tray beside him. "While I was driving back to Westchester, my men paid a visit to every capo who supported your coup. You are the last one left."

"Please! I'll leave the country! I'll go to South America!"

Kendrick stepped forward, his eyes burning with arctic fire. "You pointed a gun at my daughter. You tried to butcher the woman who holds my soul in her hands. You shot my dog."

Kendrick leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper that sealed Barrett's fate. "There is no country on this earth far enough to save you."