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

night.

I checked on Sandro every hour.

Concussion protocol, I told myself.

But the truth was simpler.

I needed to see his chest rising and falling.

I needed proof he was alive.

Each time I cracked open the supply room door, he was either asleep or pretending to be. And each time, I left without making a sound.

By dawn, my eyes felt gritty and my hands would continue reading …