The Mafia's Doctor

<- 31->

<-I-L-A-<<<
I laid my head down at my desk, suffering from the hangover. I wanted to take another Advil for my headache but I knew I already took enough to accidentally overdose on. The pounding in my head was absolutely killer.

"How are you feeling over there?" I asked, checking on Marcella who was sitting on the nearest hospital to me.

"Better. I didn't even know these things exist." Marcella was talking about the iv bag that was treating her hangover. "You don't look so good, maybe you should hook yourself up to one of these too."

I opened my mouth to explain to Marcella that she was already using the last bag when the door to my office opened. The force, that pushed the door so hard, had sent it into the adjacent wall.

People rushed in. Somewhere carried by others while other where carrying people. I bolted up from my desk, sending the wheeled chair back. The sudden motion made me dizzy and I grabbed hold of the desk in front of me.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Marcella said shocked. "What happened? Dante? Lauretta? Marco? Omg, are you okay?"

They were laid down on separate beds and I rushed to their side. All were bleeding out. The white sheets underneath them were fast to soak up the red blood. Blood packets were the only thing unavailable to me. Stopping the bleeding was crucial.

"Guys, grab a towel in the cabinet and apply pressure to Lauretta and Marco's wounds. I have to work on Dante first. He's bleeding the most out of the three." I said, telling the people who stayed in the room after carrying the injured.

"It hurts like a bitch," Dante muttered, clutching the tricep as that injured arm held his side.

"Dante, language!" His mother said.

"Sorry, ma, it hurts!"The sixteen-year-old reasoned.

"Figlio, no. You could have said "It's hurting, a lot" instead." For a mother experiencing her son bleeding out on a hospital, she was quite composed.

"Can we not do this right now, mamma? I'm dying here."

"Dante," I called for his attention from his mother. "What happened?"

"I don't know. It was a quick ambush."

"No, I meant "what happened to your arm and side?""

"I don't know. Uh, everything happened so fast. I think I got shot through the arm and then stabbed at the side. I can't remember, I just know I felt pain and then a lot of blood." Dante grew sicker as he spoke. "I think I'm gonna pass out, someone slap me."

"Dio mio!" His mother said, using the Lord's name in vain as she slapped her son's forehead.

"Ow! Mamma!"

"Dante, stay with me. I'm going to work on your side first and then your arm."

"I can't feel my side. Please work on my arm first, it's killing me."

"Your side has more important organs than your arm. I'm going to have to tend your side first. I'll be quick I promise."

I instructed his mother to squeeze Dante's arm to minimize anymore bleeding. In which he complained that her grip was too hard. Fortunately, his stab wound was done in a swiping motion rather a jabbing motion. Developing the body of most men in this mafia, he was still rather lean and barely gained a six-pack. The knife had cut some serious tissues. As promised, I worked on his side as quickly as possible. I went to work on his arm and finished him in no time.

Whoever injured Lauretta did her dirty. Her tanned face was all scratched up, including her left eye that was bleeding. I mistook that her cut on her lip was excessively bleeding; however, it was due to her broken ribs that caused her to cough up blood. Apparently, Lauretta was kicked at her lower left ribcage.

As for Marco, it was clear that he got hit on the head with something hard. His temple was bleeding as a bump started to form.

"Was it a rock?" I guessed as I cleaned out his wound.

"Brick." He answered after hissing from the sting of the rubbing alcohol.

I winced at the thought of the pain he must have felt after getting struck by a brick. After I finished cleaning his wound, I wrapped Marco's head securely. I was applying a small piece of tape to hold the bandage when the door to my office opened hardly, once again. The sound of the doors impact on the adjacent wall caused me to flinch, in which made me pressed the tape onto Marco's head rather roughly.

"Ow!" He groaned.

"I'm sorry." I apologized. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Matteo had just entered the room.

"What happened?" He asked, alert and angry.

Lucas explained, "We were out on lookouts when we spotted a suspicious guy. Dante, Lauretta, Marco, Jaime, and I followed the dude."

"Then we lost him and divided into two groups of two and three. According to them, he led them right into a planned surprise attack." Jaime said, finishing Lucas's answer to Matteo's question.

>>>-M-A-T-T-E-O->
I walked over to Ila. She had already finished working on Dante, Lauretta, and Marco and was throwing away used cotton balls, towels, and wrappers away.

"How are they?" I asked her.

"They should be better after a lot of rest. However, we do need an X-ray on Lauretta for her ribs and Dante might need physical therapy for his arm." Ila informed me, worried.

"I need to make a few phone calls," I said, excusing myself.

"Okay." She nodded, understandings

I walked out of Ila's office, scanning the contact list of my phone. Lucas, nor Jaime, didn't tell me who attacked them, but I already knew who did it. Right as I found his contact name, I received a call from him.

"Stollo," I answered.

"Matteo, Matteo Casciani," Stollo replied. "A foe that yet can turn into my friend once I get what I want to call it even."

"Even?" I asked. "How is that possible if you just attacked three of our people when we never killed yours in the beginning."

"Lies! Don't aggravate me. You've already seen what I've done to your members. I've had my fun but it isn't over."

"What is it that you want from us? Money? Someone to point the finger at since you can't investigate enough to find out the real killers? You have good fighting men but they are, sure as hell, dumb."

"I want your best men. You've killed mine and I'll do the same, torturously. If I don't get them by this Friday, I will come for everyone in Il Bisbiglio. Send them to me and we can have peace." Stollo spewed before hanging up.

His voice that I heard moments ago rang in my head, sending chills down my back. There was no way to convince Stollo that it wasn't us, he had his grieving heart set on it. He sounded desperate and it was desperation that can cloud one's judgment, one's sanity, and one's will.

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