She Was Only a Dog Trainer Trying to Heal a Traumatized Shepherd — Then the Mafia Boss Who Owned Him Made Her the Key to Surviving a Deadly Betrayal

Chapter 4

Roman pulled out his phone, opened a document, and handed it to me. A contract, already drafted, already signed at the bottom with a name I’d only ever seen on invoices and wire transfers.

I scanned it with my pulse unsteady, my brain fighting through adrenaline and something else I refused to name.

“This says I’m on call twenty-four hours a day.”

“Luna’s anxiety doesn’t operate on a schedule.”

“Neither does my ability to function without sleep.”

He didn’t smile. But something in his eyes flickered, and I realized it was approval — approval I hadn’t earned and didn’t want and couldn’t seem to stop chasing.

I kept reading, and I started pushing back. Secure communication, not my personal phone, not something Klov could trace. He agreed — a clean phone by morning. Movement restrictions — “You’re saying I can’t leave the city without clearance.”

“I’m saying if you leave my operational perimeter, I can’t guarantee your safety. That’s not the same as needing permission.”

I looked up at him. “I’m not asking to disappear to Europe. I’m asking for the autonomy to visit my mother in Queens without filing a travel report.”

The corner of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile. “Within the five boroughs, you move freely. Beyond that, you notify me. Not permission. Notification.”

I nodded and kept reading. “There’s nothing here about my family’s protection. You said you’d keep Klov away from people I care about. I need that in writing. Specific names. My mother, Sarah Kleinhart. My brother, David Kleinhart. Both covered under the same security protocols you’re offering me.”

“Done.”

“And I need an exit clause.” This was the part that would tell me whether this was a contract or just a gilded cage. “If this arrangement becomes untenable. If you break the terms. If the threat level becomes something I didn’t agree to. If you start asking me to do things outside the scope of dog rehabilitation and observation — I can walk away. Thirty days’ notice. You honor the debt clearance and the protection already earned.”

Roman was quiet for a long moment. His eyes stayed on mine, and I forced myself not to flinch under the weight of that stare.

“Two conditions,” he said finally. “One — you don’t walk away in the middle of an active threat. If Klov is escalating, you stay until the situation is resolved or you’re clear of the blast radius. I won’t have you leaving protection and getting killed because of pride.”

That was fair. Brutal, but fair.

“Agreed.”

“Two — if you walk away, you don’t talk. Not to police, not to press, not to anyone about what you’ve seen or learned. Silence is part of the exit price.”

I thought about what it meant to agree to permanent silence about a world I didn’t fully understand. But I also thought about my mother’s bills, about the three months of rent I owed, about the stranger’s hand on my wrist and the cold certainty that I was already in this whether I signed or not.

“I can live with that,” I said, “as long as the silence goes both ways. You don’t use what you know about me, my family, my debts, my past as leverage after I’m gone. Clean separation.”

“Agreed.”

Roman held out his hand.

I looked at it. Strong fingers. Scarred knuckles, the kind of hand that had built empires and broken bones. Taking it felt like stepping off a cliff.

But I’d been falling my whole life. At least this time, someone was offering to catch me.

I shook his hand, and his grip was firm and warm, and I felt that touch everywhere — a current of heat that ran straight up my arm and lodged somewhere behind my ribs.

“We have a deal.”

“Good.”

He didn’t let go immediately. His thumb brushed once across my knuckles — deliberate, testing — and my breath stuttered. He noticed. I saw the slight shift in his expression, the way his eyes darkened.

Then he released me and stood, and the space between us came rushing back. “I’ll have the revised contract sent by morning. The secure phone will be delivered with it. Your first task starts in six hours.”

“What task?”

“Luna’s morning walk. Same route, same timing. But this time, you’ll be looking for patterns — repeating faces, vehicles that show up too often, anyone paying too much attention.” He looked down at me, and the intensity in his gaze made it hard to breathe. “You’re not just her handler anymore. You’re my eyes in places I can’t be. If you spot someone, you log it. You don’t engage, you don’t confront, you document and report. And if you’re in immediate danger, you call me — not 911. Me.”

“One more thing.” He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to me. Plain black. No company name. Just a number embossed in silver so dark it barely caught the light. “This is my direct line. It doesn’t go to an assistant. It doesn’t go to voicemail. You call that number, I answer — anytime, any reason.”

Our fingers brushed again, and this time I was ready for it, braced against the shock of heat. It didn’t help. My body still reacted like he’d touched something more intimate than my hand.

“Why?” The question came out before I could stop it. “Why give me direct access?”

“Because if Klov moves on you, seconds matter.” His expression was unreadable. “And because I don’t make deals I’m not prepared to honor completely. You’re under my protection now. That means something.”

He turned to leave, and Luna stood to follow him. “Does she go with you tonight?”

“Yes. Tomorrow, she stays with you during your contracted hours.” He paused at the door. “Get some rest, Odessa. The next few weeks are going to test exactly how observant you really are.”

Then he was gone, and I was alone in the exam room with a black card in my hand and the lingering scent of cedar and smoke in the air. I should have been terrified. Instead, I picked up my phone and started planning tomorrow’s route — already thinking like someone who worked for Roman Kyodori. Already wondering what it would cost me to survive in his world.