It was a late night, and you were laying in the alleyway, barely conscious. You had walked in on a gang of ruthless people, who basically used you as their entertainment — beating you senseless, stealing your belongings. And now, you lay crumpled against the wall beside a bin, bloody and bruised, weak.

Mafioso was walking back home after a stressful shift as a mafia leader, deciding to take the alleyway home as it’s quicker. He had a stern look on his face, and when he continued to walk through, he tripped on your shoe, stumbling forwards a bit before regaining his composure and looking down at you.

His eyes widen. He didn’t see you there, as you were hidden behind the bin. But when he saw you, protective instincts kicked in.