Chapter 2
The bright, natural sunlight of the medical room seemed to sharpen, throwing harsh, cinematic shadows across the polished tiles. Marcus Bellandi did not step back. Instead, his fair, rosy face twisted into a mask of sudden, inexplicable fury. He closed the distance in two rapid strides, his polished leather shoes squeaking sharply against the floor.
"I said, give me the shears," Marcus demanded, his American accent dropping into a low, threatening growl.
"Marcus, you are interfering with a medical procedure," Dr. Emma warned, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to keep her body positioned between the towering Mafia associate and the trembling three-year-old girl. "If you do not back away right now, I will have club security remove you."
"I am club security, you stupid woman," Marcus hissed. Without another word of warning, he lunged forward. His heavy hand shot out and violently grabbed Dr. Emma’s wrist, twisting it painfully to force her to drop the blunt trauma shears.
"Let go of me!" Emma cried out, struggling against his grip, the shears clattering loudly onto the padded floor.
"Nobody cuts that boot open," Marcus commanded, his voice vibrating with a dark, furious intensity. He yanked the doctor aside and reached his large hands directly toward Lily’s trapped leg, intending to rip the rubber boot off by brute force, regardless of the child's screaming protests.
"Leave her alone!" Lily shrieked, kicking her free leg wildly to keep her uncle away.
Before Marcus could wrap his fingers around the rubber material, a blur of motion intercepted him. Leo Bellandi, Dante’s fifteen-year-old nephew, stepped squarely between Marcus and the examination bench. Leo wore a crisp equestrian jacket, tailored trousers, clean sneakers, and a sleek wristwatch. Despite his youth, his fair, rosy skin covered a muscular frame trained heavily in boxing and advanced self-defense.
"Back the hell off, Uncle Marcus," Leo ordered, his American accent sharp and unyielding. He shoved Marcus squarely in the chest with both hands, forcing the older man to stumble backward away from the terrified little girl.
"Excuse me?" Marcus gasped, his eyes wide with shocked outrage. He straightened his expensive riding-club suit, glaring at the teenager. "You dare put your hands on me, you arrogant little punk? I am a senior associate in this family!"
"I don't care who you are," Leo fired back, keeping his fists raised in a practiced, defensive stance, completely shielding Lily and Dr. Emma. "You are not touching my cousin, and you are not touching the doctor. If you want to get to her, you have to go through me."
"You think you can fight me, boy?" Marcus sneered, a cruel, mocking smile spreading across his face. He rubbed his jaw, looking past the teenager. "Grant. Handle this disrespectful brat. Show him what happens when you cross the adults in this syndicate."
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From the shadows near the equipment cases, Grant Cole stepped forward. The forty-year-old security associate wore upscale equestrian clothing, thick leather gloves, and heavy riding boots. His fair, rosy complexion mirrored Marcus’s arrogant confidence as he cracked his knuckles, preparing to brutally discipline the fifteen-year-old boy.
"With pleasure, Marcus," Grant muttered, advancing slowly toward Leo, his eyes locked onto the teenager with malicious intent.
