Pick Any Woman You Want, The Mafia Boss Said — But His Dog Led The Girl To A Poor Waitress Instead

Panic turned the grand ballroom into a sea of terror. Heiresses shrieked, powerful bosses ducked behind overturned mahogany tables, and security guards drew their sidearms, aiming blindly toward the balcony.

"Kendrick!" Willa gasped, her hand clutching his arm.

Kendrick didn't flinch. He didn't panic. He pulled Willa behind his broad frame, his face dropping into a mask of pure, murderous rage.

"Marcus," Kendrick said softly into his collar mic. "Execute Plan Omega."

"With pleasure, boss," Marcus's voice crackled through the earpiece.

Suddenly, the massive glass dome above the grand ballroom shattered into ten thousand falling shards.

Black ropes dropped through the opening, and twenty elite Ashford strike operatives—dressed in tactical black gear and wearing night-vision goggles—slid down the lines, firing silenced assault rifles with terrifying precision before their feet even touched the floor.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

The twelve guards standing beside Barrett on the balcony were cut down in seconds, their bodies tumbling over the iron railing onto the floor below.

Mikhail Voronin gasped in shock, grabbing Barrett by his collar and retreating down the upper service hallway. "You said he wouldn't be prepared!" Mikhail roared, striking Barrett across the face.

"He wasn't supposed to be!" Barrett screamed, blood pouring from his nose.

Down in the ballroom, Titan let out a roaring bark that shook the crystal chandeliers. The dog leaped over an overturned table, charging up the grand marble stairs toward the balcony, his instincts driving him straight toward the men who threatened his family.

"Titan, no!" Willa cried out.

"Let him go," Kendrick commanded, drawing two black pistols from inside his tuxedo jacket. He turned to his head of security, who had appeared beside them. "Marcus, take Willa to the armored vault in the basement. Protect her with your life."

"No!" Willa grabbed Kendrick's lapel, her dark eyes fierce with defiance. "I'm not hiding in a basement while you fight!"

Kendrick looked at her, his dark eyes burning with pride and fierce affection. He reached into his belt, pulled out a compact silver 9mm pistol, and placed it directly into her hands.

"Six shots," Kendrick told her, his voice low and intense. "Keep your finger off the trigger until you see an enemy. Stay behind me."

Together, Kendrick, Willa, and his tactical team surged up the grand staircase.

The upper hallways were a warzone. Gunfire echoed off the gold-leaf walls as Ashford operatives pushed back the invading Russian mercenaries. Kendrick moved like a demon through the smoke, his pistols barked rhythmic death, dropping every gunman who crossed his path.

Beside him, Willa moved with surprising agility. When a wounded Russian soldier lunged from a doorway aimed at Kendrick's back, Willa didn't scream. She raised the silver pistol, took a steady breath, and fired twice.

BANG! BANG!

The soldier crumpled to the carpet, shot through the chest.

Kendrick turned, catching her gaze through the lingering gunpowder smoke. A dark, ferocious smile touched his lips. "Good shot, future Mrs. Ashford."

They reached the end of the grand corridor, where the heavy wooden doors to the executive suite were kicked off their hinges.

Inside, Barrett Hayes was frantically trying to open a fire exit, while Mikhail Voronin stood over a bleeding Titan. The brave mastiff had tackled two guards, but Mikhail had drawn a heavy hunting knife, ready to strike the dog's chest.

"Titan!" Willa screamed.

Before Mikhail could bring the knife down, Kendrick fired a single round. The bullet shattered Mikhail's wrist, sending the knife spinning across the floor.

Mikhail screamed, clutching his spurting arm, falling back against the wall.

Titan scrambled up, shaking his heavy head, and immediately placed his massive body in front of Willa, growling menacingly at the trapped men.

Barrett turned around, his back pressed against the locked fire door. His face was covered in sweat and tears, his sanity completely gone. He pulled a small detonator from his pocket.

"Stay back!" Barrett shrieked, his finger hovering over the red button. "I have twenty pounds of C4 planted beneath the ballroom! If I press this, everyone in this building dies!"

Kendrick stepped forward, his gun lowered, his grey eyes cold as death. "You won't press it, Barrett. You're too much of a coward to die."

"Try me!" Barrett screamed, his thumb shaking over the trigger. "Try me, Kendrick! I built half this syndicate! I deserved the throne! Not you, and certainly not this servant girl!"

Willa stepped up beside Kendrick. She didn't look at the detonator. She looked Barrett straight in the eyes.

"My father was a coward like you, Barrett," Willa said, her voice echoing clearly in the room. "He thought money and power would make him safe. But in the end, he died alone in a dark room, remembered by no one. That's your legacy."

Barrett raged, his face turning purple. "Shut up! Shut up!"

In his moment of blind fury, Barrett's focus shifted entirely to Willa.

It was the last mistake he ever made.

Titan didn't hesitate. With a terrifying roar, the 150-pound mastiff launched himself through the air, his jaws locking around Barrett's arm. The force of the strike slammed Barrett against the wall, sending the detonator flying out of his hand.

The detonator skidded across the floor, stopping right at Kendrick's feet.

Kendrick calmly stepped on the device, crushing the delicate plastic housing beneath his designer shoe.

He pulled his pistol, walked over to Barrett—who was screaming on the floor as Titan held him down—and pointed the barrel directly between his eyes.

"For my wife," Kendrick whispered softly. "For my child. And for the peace of my city."