The Mafia Boss Refused to Pick a Woman—Until His Dog Lay Down at a Poor Waitress's Feet

Barrett froze.

The air in the hallway seemed to drop twenty degrees.

From the darkness of the master suite corridor, Titan emerged. The one-hundred-fifty-pound Neapolitan Mastiff looked twice his size in the dim light. His massive wrinkles were bunched around his heavy brow, his lips curled back to reveal yellowed, terrifying teeth, and every single hair along his spine stood straight up like steel needles.

Barrett’s face drained of color. He slowly released Willa’s arm, his hand twitching instinctively toward the concealed holster beneath his suit jacket.

"Good... good dog," Barrett choked out, taking a slow, trembling step backward. "Easy, Titan. I'm on your side—"

Titan didn't bark. He lunged.

The sheer physical force of a one-hundred-fifty-pound mastiff tackling a grown man sounded like a car crash. Barrett slammed hard against the mahogany paneled wall, the breath exploding from his lungs in a sharp gasp as Titan’s massive paws pinned him squarely against the wood.

Titan didn't bite—not yet—but his wide, powerful jaws hovered mere inches from Barrett’s throat, hot, foul breath washing over the lieutenant's terrified face.

"Titan! Down!"

The deep, commanding voice cut through the hallway like a razor.

Kendrick Ashford stood at the far end of the corridor, draped in a black silk robe, a heavy revolver held loosely in his right hand. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his gray eyes were locked onto Barrett with a terrifying, predatory stillness that made the air feel suffocating.

Titan slowly lowered his front paws, though he didn't step away. He stood over Barrett, keeping the terrified man pinned against the wall with a low, vibrating growl rumbling deep in his massive chest.

Barrett slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, gasping for air, clutching his bruised chest.

Kendrick walked slowly toward them, his bare feet making no sound on the rug. He stopped beside Willa, casting a quick, assessing glance over her to ensure she wasn't harmed. Then, his eyes dropped to Barrett.

"What are you doing in the family wing at three in the morning, Barrett?" Kendrick asked softly.

"Boss... I..." Barrett stammered, coughing violently. "I heard a noise. I was... I was checking the perimeter—"

"You were threatening a guest in my home," Kendrick interrupted, his voice dropping into an icy, deadpan register that was infinitely more terrifying than a shout.

"She's a spy, Kendrick!" Barrett yelled, panic overriding his judgment as he pointed a shaking finger at Willa. "She's hiding something! Look at her! She doesn't belong here!"