The Traitorous Fiancée Sabotaged the Boss's Car — Until the Waitress in the Torn Red Dress Caught His Arm on the Cliff

The violent, torrential rain lashed against the jagged rocks of the dark mountain cliffside.

A massive, armored black car violently smashed through the steel guardrail, the screech of tearing metal echoing into the pitch-black night. The heavy vehicle tipped over the edge, plummeting directly into the deep, raging river valley below.

"No!" Cara screamed, her voice tearing through the freezing storm.

The twenty-seven-year-old waitress, her messy dark hair plastered to her face, threw her body onto the treacherous, muddy edge of the cliff. She wore a stunning red gown, now brutally torn, completely soaked, and caked in thick black mud. She lunged forward with desperate, reckless bravery, her hands blindly reaching into the abyss.

She caught him.

Cara strained with absolutely every ounce of her strength, her muscles burning as she desperately pulled Dante up by his heavily tattooed arm just before the wreckage vanished into the dark water far below.

The thirty-eight-year-old mafia boss hung over the edge. Blood poured from a deep gash on his forehead, washing over his unbuttoned black shirt. He was an incredibly handsome, intensely dangerous man, but right now, he was a dead weight slipping in the mud.

"Leave me," Dante grunted, his voice a low, gravelly command, refusing to drag her down with him.

"No!" Cara sobbed, refusing to let go, her fingers digging fiercely into his tattooed skin.

With one final, agonizing heave, she dragged the towering apex predator over the ledge, both of them collapsing onto the wet asphalt. But before they could even catch their breath, the glaring headlights of several black SUVs pierced the darkness.

Armed men in black suits poured out of the vehicles, immediately raising their heavy weapons and aiming them directly at Cara’s chest.

Dante violently grabbed Cara's wrist, shielding her with his body as he glared back at his men.

"Don't shoot her," Dante commanded, his voice echoing with lethal, absolute authority.

The armed men instantly lowered their weapons, freezing in the heavy rain. Dante slowly turned back to the trembling waitress in the ruined red gown. He stared deeply into her eyes, his intense, suspicious expression turning terrifyingly calm.