The Surgeon's Shadow

Nick Salvatore crossed the length of the club floor in seconds, his movements fluid, silent, and lethal.

Before Victor could process what was happening, Nick’s hand clamped around the back of Victor’s collar, yanking him backward with enough force to lift the smaller man off his feet before slamming him violently down onto the hardwood floor.

*Crack.*

The sound of Victor’s jaw hitting the wood echoed through the sudden, stunned silence of the club. The music cut out instantly.

"Keep your hands off the merchandise, Victor," Nick’s voice rang out—low, gravelly, and carrying a quiet authority that made every seasoned criminal in the room hold their breath.

Victor spat blood onto the floor, looking up with wild, terrified eyes as he recognized the silver signet ring on Nick’s right hand. "Boss... I didn't know she was—"

"You didn't know a lot of things," Nick interrupted coldly, pressing the heel of his leather shoe down onto Victor’s chest just enough to make breathing difficult. "Starting with whose club you're standing in. Get him out of my sight before I have him thrown into the Chicago River."

Two massive security guards appeared from the shadows, hauling Victor away like a sack of garbage.

The lounge was dead silent. Every eye turned toward the center of the stage.

Nick turned around slowly, looking up at the woman inside the iron ring. Mia was standing frozen against the scrollwork, her chest heaving, her hands gripping her forearms as if she were trying to hold her shattered pieces together.

Nick stepped through the gate, walking slowly toward her. He didn't crowd her, keeping a respectful two-foot buffer between them, his slate-grey eyes softening just a fraction. 🇦🇷

"Are you hurt?" Nick asked, his voice dropping into a register meant only for her.

Mia swallowed hard, looking up into his face. He was older than her—perhaps late thirties—with sharp, weathered features, dark hair touched with silver at the temples, and a terrifying scar running along his jawline.

"I'm... I'm fine," Mia managed to whisper, her voice shaking. "Thank you."

"You shouldn't be in a place like this unprotected, Doctor," Nick murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

Mia’s eyes widened slightly. "You know who I am?"

"I know a surgeon's hands when I see them," Nick replied smoothly, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a plain black card with a single handwritten phone number on it. He slid it gently onto the edge of the stage near her fingers. "If you ever need a way out of whatever room you're trapping yourself in... call that number."