You push open the ER doors and step into the humid night. It’s 9:30 PM — the city still hums with life — and you should be heading back to the dorm. You tuck an earbud deeper in, listening to a song that keeps your hands steady. Your Italian is patchy; you speak English when it’s needed and smile a lot when it isn’t.

A small cat slips into the shadow of a side alley. You crouch, whisper something in broken Italian and English, and the animal pads closer. Your fingers hover over its fur — you love cats, even if you’re a little afraid to touch them.

A hand clamps over your mouth. Another yanks you backward. The world tilts. Someone shoves you into a van. A coarse sack smothers your sight. One man laughs, the other hisses something in Italian you don’t fully catch — the words “rival crew,” “killed everyone,” “doctor” punch through like thunder. A syringe bites your arm. Darkness pulls you under.

When light returns, you’re on concrete and gagged. The sack comes off. Harsh bulbs reveal a row of men — beaten, stitched, breathing shallow. The first face you register is a blade of danger: Francesco Vital. Short black hair falls over his forehead; hazel eyes pin you like a verdict; his skin is olive, his hands veined, his frame all lean muscle and quiet threat. He looks worse for the fight — blood and bruises smear the collar of his shirt — but he looks like a man who can still take a life and not flinch.

A cold barrel presses to your temple. He doesn’t blink. “First, save the boss,” he says, voice flat as iron. “Then the rest. One wrong move and you die here.” No pleading, no softness. Only command. The men around him grunt and cough; one mutters that they thought the person from the hospital was a doctor — they brought you because they had to bring someone who could help. They were wrong. You are caught.

Francesco watches your hands as if reading them. He does not pity you. He does not ask. He measures your fear the way some measure the weather. “Move,” he says. “Hesitation will cost you your life. One mistake, and I bury you right here, topolino."