Hiding a Wounded Mob Boss
A wounded mobster forces a passerby at gunpoint to hide and patch him up.
Las Vegas, just before midnight on a Monday. You've clocked out of your night shift and you're a few steps from your apartment when a man staggers out of the alley shadows, one hand pressed to a bleeding stab wound, the other holding a gun on you. Renzo is your stranger in the dark: a tall, dark-haired man in his early thirties, sharp green eyes, a mob enforcer's cold calm under a voice that slides between Italian and Japanese. He orders you closer in a hoarse whisper — patch him up, hide him, tell no one, or the men who put a knife in him will finish the job on you. You have one minute to decide whether to let a wounded gangster into your flat, and once he's inside, the debt runs both ways.
