Chapter 1 - The Woman Who Didn’t Fear The Devil
A giant pit bull collapsed on my emergency table, crying: “Please… don’t let him die.”
When Mafia boss Gabriel Costa arrived, he carried a blood-stained collar belonging to the dog everyone thought was impossible to save.
But four numbers were scratched inside the metal tag: “07-14-22.”
Gabriel suddenly realized Brutus was not attacked by accident.
The rain was hitting the clinic windows so hard that the entire building sounded like it was surrounded by waves.
I remember the exact moment everything changed.
The clock above the reception desk showed 2:14 a.m.
I was entering medication records when three black SUVs stopped outside the clinic.
Not parked.
Stopped.
Like whoever was inside didn’t care about blocking the entire street.
I looked through the glass doors and saw men stepping out.
Men wearing expensive suits.
Men who moved like they had done dangerous things before.
I reached for the emergency button beneath my desk.
Then the front doors exploded open.
A man rushed inside carrying something wrapped in a dark coat.
“Where is the doctor?” he demanded.
His hands were covered in blood.
I froze for half a second.
Then I saw what he was carrying.
A dog.
A massive gray pit bull.
His breathing was shallow.
His fur was soaked with rain and blood.
“Put him down,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
The man holding the dog stared.
“Do you know who this belongs to?”
“No,” I replied.
I grabbed gloves.
“But I know he’s dying.”
The room went silent.
That was when Gabriel Costa entered.
I didn’t know him personally.
But everyone knew his name.
Gabriel Costa was the kind of man people whispered about when they thought nobody was listening.
A businessman.
A billionaire.
A man connected to things nobody wanted to discuss.
He was tall, calm, and terrifying because he never needed to prove he was dangerous.
The dangerous ones never did.
His eyes moved from his injured dog to me.
“My dog was shot.”
His voice was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
I looked at Brutus.
“Then help me save him.”
One of his men stepped forward.
Nobody spoke to Gabriel like that.
But Gabriel lifted his hand.
The man stopped.
I didn’t understand why.
I was too busy trying to keep Brutus alive.
“Get me IV fluids.”
The room moved.
“Prepare surgical equipment.”
Everyone moved faster.
“Someone turn on the warmer.”
More movement.
Gabriel stood there watching me.
I could feel his eyes.
Most people would have been afraid.
Maybe they were.
But animals didn’t care who someone was.
They only cared who stayed when they were hurting.
Brutus opened his eyes slightly.
A low growl escaped his throat.
One of Gabriel’s men reached inside his jacket.
I looked up.
“If you pull that out, I will personally make sure your dog knows you were the reason he didn’t get treated.”
The man stared at me.
Gabriel looked away.
And for the smallest moment...
I thought I saw something close to amusement.
“Everyone leaves when they see him,” Gabriel said.
I adjusted the oxygen mask.
“I’m not everyone.”
Those words stayed between us.
For the next three hours, nothing existed except Brutus.
Not Gabriel.
Not his men.
Not the fear hanging in the room.
Just the animal fighting to survive.
The first bullet had damaged his shoulder.
The second had come dangerously close to his ribs.
Dr. Reynolds assisted me, but even he kept glancing toward Gabriel.
Like he was waiting for something terrible to happen.
I ignored it.
Because Brutus was suffering.
And suffering didn’t care about reputations.
When the surgery ended, everyone released the breath they had been holding.
Brutus was alive.
Barely.
But alive.
Gabriel stepped closer.
“He survived?”
I nodded.
“For now.”
Nobody spoke.
Gabriel looked down at his dog.
Then at me.
“You saved him.”
I removed my bloody gloves.
“He saved himself.”
That answer seemed to surprise him.
Later, when everyone thought the night was finally over, I noticed Brutus shaking.
His coat was still covered with dirt and dried blood.
“He needs cleaning.”
Dr. Reynolds looked exhausted.
“Chloe, he just had surgery.”
“I know.”
“You should rest.”
“I will.”
I looked at Brutus.
“After he feels better.”
Gabriel appeared behind me.
Silent.
“What do you need?”
I turned.
For the first time, I saw him not as a powerful man.
But as someone terrified of losing the one creature that trusted him completely.
“Warm water. Clean towels. And no people holding weapons around him.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Nobody told Gabriel Costa what to do.
But he nodded.
“Give her what she wants.”
Hours later, I was cleaning Brutus’s fur when I felt someone standing behind me.
Gabriel.
He held a white handkerchief.
“There’s blood on your face.”
Before I could react, he gently wiped my cheek.
I stepped back immediately.
“Don’t do that.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Most people don’t tell me no.”
“Maybe they should.”
For the first time in years, Gabriel Costa looked completely speechless.
Then Brutus lifted his head.
And pressed against my hand.
Gabriel watched.
Something changed in his expression.
Not anger.
Not control.
Something else.
“You know,” he said quietly, “he doesn’t trust anyone.”
I looked at the dog.
“Maybe he knows who actually cares.”
The silence between us grew heavier.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Inside, Brutus’s heartbeat monitor continued.
Then Gabriel reached into his coat pocket.
He pulled out something small.
A black metal tag.
The same tag attached to Brutus’s collar.
“I found this after the shooting.”
I frowned.
“Why are you showing me?”
Because he looked genuinely unsettled.
Because for the first time, the man everyone feared looked afraid.
He turned the tag over.
On the back were four scratched numbers.
07-14-22.
My eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
Because suddenly Brutus started growling.
Not at me.
Not at Gabriel.
At the locked clinic door behind us.
Everyone turned.
The lights flickered.
Then my phone, sitting on the counter, started ringing.
The screen showed a number I had never seen before.
Gabriel looked at it.
And his face changed.
Because he recognized the caller.
I reached for the phone.
The voice on the other end whispered one sentence.
May you like
“Gabriel Costa… you still don’t know who tried to kill your dog.”
Then the clinic door handle slowly began to turn from the outside.
