I PULLED A MAFIA BOSS FROM A SINKING YACHT—24 HOURS LATER, HIS BODYGUARD BROUGHT $2 MILLION TO MY DOOR

had first felt the ocean.

This time, he was running.

Actually running.

No oxygen tank.

No wheelchair.

No careful steps.

Dr. Chen had declared him in full remission three months earlier, and every day since had been a gift.

Sandro and I watched from the sand, our shoulders touching.

“He’s going to wear himself out,” I said.

“Let him,” Sandro answered. “He’s continue reading …