The Mafia King's Unknown Doctor Wife novel Chapter 352

Massimo was a well trained man, but there's very few things someone can do when they're unarmed and staring down the barrel of a gun. And those options become even more limited when there's a concern about stray bullets hitting a defenseless, beautiful woman. So Massimo didn't have much of a choice but to take the punches Tyler's goon dished out.

He wanted to offer Elena some comfort, but he could tell that his attacker was the sadistic type. Anything Massimo said would just become fuel for Elena's own torment. Already, Massimo could tell the man was throwing in unnecessary hits just to provoke a reaction from Elena.

Then, to Massimo's own surprise, the mafia man stopped playing. He steadied his gun, aimed it right for Massimo's head, and pulled the trigger.

Only a second after Elena's own gun goes off.

Her bullet hitting its target caused the mafia man's arm to twitch, right as he fired his own gun. Massimo did his best to lean in the opposite direction—but he's so close to the gunman, it's doubtful he can even move an inch in time. For a single moment, all he could do was hope the bullet is off target enough to miss his brain.

Then he heard the bullet whizz by him. But not without the sound of breaking porcelain, the feeling of a hot knife gliding by, and the smell of burnt fabric exploding past him.

Massimo felt a cut near his left temple. He raised his hand to it. Thankfully, it's shallow.

He's survived much worse than this. The cut was minor enough to barely register as more than a paper-cut compared to the shootouts Massimo has barely come back from. This was nothing.

But as Massimo started to lower his hand, he felt his mask begin to shift, too. He's struck by a sudden bolt of panic.

He felt around quickly with his free hand for the ribbon in the back—the one piece of fabric keeping everything in place. It was fraying. Massimo could feel the tearing edges coming apart in his hands.

He immediately dropped his hand and instead brought it up to his other, trying to keep his mask in place. He felt along the mask, trying to note if anything else was broken.

There's a crack in the mask, near where his cut was. It's not too bad—nowhere near the problem the fraying ribbon presented.

It's at that moment Elena ran to his side. "Oh my god," she breathed out, her voice distorted by worry. "Are you okay?"

Elena immediately tried to touch Max's bullet wound and get a better look at it—but he leaned away.

"I'm fine," he said. "Barely a scratch."

Elena froze at the absurdity of the statement. It took her a full thirty seconds to voice her concerns.

"You were shot," Elena protested.

Max stood up shakily. Elena suddenly realized he must be in shock.

"Max," she pleaded, "we need to get that treated immediately."

Max frowned, like Elena was the one suggesting a ridiculous course of action. All the while, his left hand stayed firmly in place on top of his mask, no doubt keeping pressure on whatever wounds were hidden underneath.

"Elena," Max called out, his voice deep and serious, "I don't think we have time for that right now."

He gestured with his other hand to the mafia man on the ground and then the hallway as a whole.

"We're still in danger," her husband pointed out. "They had so many more men outside when they were looking around the street. There's probably more guys coming up here to check on the noise, their coworkers, or just see what all that gunfire was about—so we need to move right now if we don't want to get caught."

Elena heard his words, but the second Max gestured to the man on the ground, her eyes refused to look at anything else. The man wasn't moving. She couldn't tell if he was even breathing at this angle.

Had she really just killed someone? Max had managed to only knock out his attackers mere moments ago. Maybe the man was still alive?

As if in a dream, Elena walked to the gunman, her heart slowly filling with more and more dread.

Max shushed her, rubbing his arm along her back. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "You did this to save my life—if it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

Something about that statement shocked Elena back to a fraction of her senses. Or maybe she had been crying for too long to keep up her grief. Regardless, she was able to gather herself enough to wipe her eyes.

"Don't say that," she said hoarsely. "You're not the one who did... any of this."

"Oh," Max shot back, voice light. "Do you finally understand how ridiculous you sound trying to blame yourself?"

"It's not... It's not the same," Elena said slowly. A numb calmness began to take over. "It's different for me..."

Max sighed. "Unfortunately, we really don't have time to debate this. We still have to move—and move now."

Elena nodded. Max helped her off the floor. He pulled away from her, and Elena immediately missed his warmth.

Max glanced down the opposite end of the hallway. "Are you good to move?" he asked.

Elena hesitated for a moment. "Yeah," she said, trying to muster up her resolve. "Can I get one more hug first?"

Max smiled, and Elena took that as a silent yes.

Elena moved in to hug him. Perhaps he wasn't expecting her to put any force behind the action or maybe Elena accidentally jostled one of his injuries. All she knew was one second they were embracing and then Max's left hand had let go of his mask.

Elena instinctively moved back to try to catch it. At the same moment, she got a clear look at her husband's face. To her great surprise, it was a face she already knew very well.

Because her husband was none other than her boss, Massimo Ferraro.