Chapter 2 - The Monster at the Door
Marco moved silently down the narrow, dimly lit hallway until he stood directly outside the peeling wooden door of apartment 2B.
The door was slightly ajar, the lock apparently broken or forced open by the man shouting inside.
“I don’t care about your sick kid, Jenny!” the harsh, aggressive voice roared, vibrating with pure cruelty.
“You are exactly three months behind on rent, and my patience is completely gone.”
Through the narrow crack in the door, Marco saw a heavy, red-faced man in a cheap suit standing aggressively in the center of the tiny living room.
It was Greg, the notorious slumlord who owned half the broken buildings on the East Side, a man who preyed entirely on the desperate.
Jenny was standing firmly between the slumlord and a small, worn-out sofa, using her own fragile body as a human shield.
Lying on the sofa was a pale, terrified little boy, his tiny chest heaving rapidly as he struggled violently to pull air into his weak lungs.
“I just got the money for his medicine today, Greg, please,” Jenny begged, her voice trembling but incredibly fierce.
“I will give you my entire next paycheck on Friday, just let me get him his inhaler first!”
Greg sneered, taking a threatening, heavy step toward the desperate mother.
“You are going to hand over whatever cash you have in your pockets right now, or I am throwing you and the brat out into the snow tonight!”
Before Greg could take another step, the wooden door violently slammed open, hitting the interior wall with the force of a bomb going off.
Marco stepped slowly into the tiny apartment, his massive, broad-shouldered frame completely filling the doorway.
The sudden, terrifying presence of the mafia boss sucked all the air out of the room, plunging the apartment into a suffocating, deadly silence.
Greg spun around furiously, his red face turning completely white the absolute second he recognized the man standing before him.
Everyone in this city knew exactly who Marco Vitelli was, and everyone knew that looking at him the wrong way usually ended in a closed-casket funeral.
“M-Mr. Vitelli,” Greg stammered, his aggressive bravado instantly evaporating into pure, unfiltered terror.
“What are you doing in my building, sir?”
Marco did not yell, nor did he raise his voice a single fraction of an inch.
He calmly locked the door behind him and took one slow, deliberate step toward the trembling slumlord.
“This is no longer your building, Greg,” Marco stated in a low, cold whisper that promised absolute violence.
“As of this exact second, I am officially taking ownership of it, which means you are currently trespassing on my property.”
Greg swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically toward the door, completely terrified of the monster standing in his way.
Marco suddenly reached out with terrifying speed, grabbing Greg fiercely by the throat and lifting him an inch off the cheap linoleum floor.
“If you ever come near this woman or her son again, I will personally ensure they never find your body,” Marco growled directly into his ear.
He violently threw the massive slumlord backward, sending Greg crashing hard against the open doorframe.
May you like
“Run,” Marco commanded softly.
Greg scrambled frantically to his feet and ran down the hallway, leaving Marco completely alone with the terrified mother and her gasping child.
