Heal My Wounds, Babygirl
Description
"You owe your life to the mafia. My father's words, cold as the gun he carried, still haunted me. He'd meant them as a chain, binding me to a fate I never chose. To Kaiden. Just thinking his name made my skin crawl. Kaiden Bianco - the young mafia boss who'd inherited an empire built on blood and pain. Who'd decided that I belonged to him. His "favorite," he'd called me, cornering me in empty hallways with wandering hands and whispered threats wrapped in promises. One day, bella, you'll understand what I can give you. What he really meant was what he could take." They say running from your past is impossible. I thought I'd proved them wrong-until the night I dragged a bleeding stranger into my apartment and stitched him back together. Turns out, saving him was probably the worst mistake of my life. Now, I'm trapped under the thumb of a ruthless, infuriatingly smug mafia boss with secrets as dark as his soul. He's demanding my loyalty, dangling my future in one hand and my freedom in the other. I've escaped once. I've survived worse. But how do you fight someone who knows exactly how to make you burn for both freedom... and him?
Chapter 1
Jan 12, 2026
[POV Juliette]
The kitchen of Mario's Bistro always smelled like stale grease and broken dreams. As I hung up my apron for the night, my manager's words still rang in my ears: "You've got potential, kid. Shame to waste it in this dump."
If only he knew.
Three years ago, I had different plans. Different name. Different life. But surviving meant leaving it all behind – including the parts of myself I'd rather forget.
The night air hit my face as I stepped out, carrying the lingering scent of fried onions and cheap wine. My feet knew the path home by heart: past the flickering streetlight, down the cracked sidewalk, to my basement apartment in the worst part of town. Each step echoed with memories I couldn't quite outrun.
You owe your life to the mafia.
My father's words, cold as the gun he carried, still haunted me. He'd meant them as a chain, binding me to a fate I never chose.
To Kaiden.
Just thinking his name made my skin crawl. Kaiden Bianco – the young mafia boss who'd inherited an empire built on blood and pain. Who'd decided that I belonged to him.
His "favorite," he'd called me, cornering me in empty hallways with wandering hands and whispered threats wrapped in promises.
One day, bella, you'll understand what I can give you.
What he really meant was what he could take.
I shivered, pulling my thin jacket tighter. The medical textbooks in my backpack weighed heavy on my shoulders – a different kind of burden, but one I'd chosen.
Every class, every late–night study session, every double shift at the bistro brought me closer to my real dream: becoming an emergency surgeon. Saving lives instead of watching them slip away like my mother's had, her blood seeping into expensive carpet while men with guns decided who lived and who died.
The fake ID in my wallet now read "Juliette Lewis" – a new last name chosen after graduation at 18, documents meticulously forged. Sometimes I caught myself signing papers as Richardson out of habit, my heart stopping until I could scratch it out.
One slip was all it would take. One whispers back to Kaiden that his obsession was hiding in plain sight, playing at normal life while his fiancée planned their wedding.
Poor Eloise. I wondered if she knew what kind of monster she was marrying.
My apartment building loomed ahead, a concrete tomb barely fit for the living. But it was mine, paid for in cash with no questions asked. Safe. Anonymous. The kind of place where neighbors minded their own business and pretended not to hear screams in the night.
The key stuck in the lock like always. I jiggled it, cursing under my breath, when a sound cut through the ambient noise of distant sirens and barking dogs. A wet splash, followed by a muffled groan.
My whole body tensed. Every instinct screamed to go inside, lock the door, pretend I hadn't heard. But something made me turn toward the dumpster instead, phone already in hand with 911 pre–dialed.
The sight knocked the breath from my lungs.
A man lay crumpled against the rusty metal, blood pooling black in the dim light. One hand clutched his neck, the other pressed against his abdomen. Even in the shadows, I could see the life draining from him with each labored breath.
Time seemed to freeze as I calculated distances and probabilities. The nearest hospital was half an hour away on a good night. An ambulance would take longer in this neighborhood. The man had a few minutes, maybe less.
I knew exactly what my father would say: Not your problem. Walk away. Stay invisible.
But I'd spent too many years watching people die when I could have helped. And I hadn't escaped one monster's cage just to let fear trap me in another.
"Hey," I called softly, approaching with careful steps. "I can help you."
His eyes snapped to mine – dark, dangerous, barely conscious but still alert enough to track my movement. A predator's gaze, even wounded.
What I was about to do could destroy everything I'd built.
My cover. My freedom. My future.
But as his blood seeped into the cracked pavement, staining my shoes, I made my choice.
I'd rather live with the consequences of action than the ghosts of standing idle.
I just prayed this decision wouldn't lead me straight back into the hell I'd fought so hard to escape.
Heal My Wounds, Babygirl
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