Into the Fold

The cheers from the underground arena were still ringing in Dante's ears as he walked down the streets, his body aching from the fight, but it wasn't the physical pain that bothered him. The fight was over. He had won. And yet, there was something hollow about the victory.

Dante's thoughts raced as he headed home, the cool night air doing little to clear his head. He was caught, caught between the fights, the mafia, and protecting Leo. No matter how many fights he won or how many jobs he took for the mafia, it felt like he was sinking deeper into something he couldn't escape.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. Dante pulled it out, his heart sinking as he saw the familiar number. Another message. Another job. They won't let him go.

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He couldn't deal with it right now. Not after the fight. Not tonight.

The next morning, Dante woke up feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. The fights, the mafia, the promise he made to himself to keep Leo safe, it all felt like it was closing in. As he got dressed, his phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn't the mafia. It was Leo.

"Hey, wanna go out today? Like we used to?"

Dante stared at the message for a moment before responding. Maybe he needed a break. Maybe Leo did, too.

Later that afternoon, Dante and Leo sat across from each other at a small diner they hadn't been to in months. The smell of coffee and pancakes filled the air, a small reminder of simpler times before everything had gotten so complicated.

Leo was in high spirits, grinning as he talked about school and his friends. Dante listened, nodding along, but his mind kept drifting.

"You okay, Dante?" Leo asked suddenly, his voice cutting through Dante's thoughts.

Dante looked up, surprised. "Yeah. Why?"

"You've been... I don't know. Different lately," Leo said, fidgeting with his fork.

Dante clenched his jaw. He hadn't wanted Leo to notice. He hadn't wanted Leo to know anything about the mess he was in.

"I'm fine," Dante said, his voice steady. "Just a lot going on. I'm handling it."

Leo didn't seem convinced. He stared at Dante for a moment, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you still fighting?"

Dante paused, the words catching in his throat. He didn't want to lie to Leo, but the truth was too dangerous. He couldn't drag Leo into this world. "Don't worry about it, okay? I've got everything under control."

Leo nodded slowly, but the doubt was clear in his eyes.

As they finished their meal, Dante's phone buzzed again. His heart sank as he saw the message. He had almost forgotten about it during their time at the diner, but reality was quick to pull him back in.

"I've gotta go," Dante said, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I've got... something to take care of."

Leo frowned, but he didn't argue. "Alright. Just... be careful, okay?"

Dante forced a smile. "Always am."

As they left the diner, Dante couldn't shake the guilt that clung to him. Leo was starting to figure it out. He could see it in his brother's. But there was no escaping it now. The mafia had its claws in him, and the next job was waiting.

Later that evening, Dante found himself walking through the streets, his mind heavy with the weight of the task ahead. The message had been brief, but the implication was clear. He couldn't back out.

The shadows seemed to grow darker as he neared the meeting spot. Dante clenched his fists, feeling the familiar throb in his knuckles. The fights were one thing. But this... this was something else.

The cold air nipped at Dante's face as he walked down the narrow alley, leaning against a rusted dumpster, was Marco, the mid-level enforcer who had been watching over Dante's involvement from the start. Marco's eyes, locked onto Dante as he approached.

"You're late, Vitale," Marco said, pushing himself off the dumpster. Dante shrugged, trying to mask his nerves. "Had to make sure I wasn't being followed."

Marco's lips curled into a half-smile, though there was no humor behind it. "Smart."

Marco pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped through the pages. "Got something lined up for you. An easy job, but it's important. Consider it a test of loyalty."

Dante's gut tightened. "What kind of job?"

Marco looked up from the notebook, his eyes locking with Dante's. "Collection. Local business owner, name's Mr. DiSanto. He runs a small shop, pays for protection like everyone else. But lately, he's been dragging his feet. You go in, make sure he pays what he owes."

Dante's heart sank. Extortion. He had figured as much, but hearing it laid out like this made it real. He wasn't just fighting anymore, he was crossing a line. He opened his mouth to respond, but Marco wasn't finished.

"You'll have help," Marco continued, nodding over Dante's shoulder. Two men stepped out of the shadows, Rico and Luca. They were a little older than Dante, both dressed in dark jackets, with hard eyes and scarred knuckles. Dante had seen their type before.

"This is simple, Vitale," Marco said, folding the notebook and tucking it back into his jacket. "Go to the shop, ask nicely. If he pays, great. If not..." Marco trailed off, his smile growing darker. "Make sure he understands the consequences."

Dante nodded, the weight of the job pressing down on him. "I get it."

Marco leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "And Vitale, don't forget what's at stake here. Leo... we wouldn't want anything happening to him, would we?"

Dante's blood ran cold at the mention of his brother. "I'll handle it," he said through gritted teeth.

"Good. Now get moving."

As the trio walked toward the shop, Rico and Luca filled Dante in on the specifics.

"DiSanto's a stubborn old man," Rico muttered, lighting a cigarette as they walked. "Thinks because he's been around a while, he can push back. We've tried to be nice, but he doesn't listen."

Luca, who had been quiet up until now, scoffed. "Doesn't matter how long he's been around. Marco's tired of his crap, and if he doesn't pay today... well, let's just say DiSanto won't have much left to protect."

Dante stayed quiet, his mind buzzing with the weight of what was coming. He didn't like the sound of this, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Marco was watching, and so were Rico and Luca.

As they approached the shop, a small, dingy place with a faded sign over the door, Dante could feel his heart pounding. This was it. He was about to cross a line he couldn't come back from.

Dante stood outside Mr. DiSanto's shop, the chipped paint on the door reflecting how the business had seen better days. Rico took the lead, pushing the door open without hesitation. The little bell above the entrance jingled softly, but there was nothing warm or welcoming about the atmosphere inside.

The shop was small, packed with shelves lined with household goods, and dusty appliances. Mr. DiSanto, a wiry man in his sixties, stood behind the counter. His face turned pale the moment he saw Rico and Luca walk in.

"Dante, you're up," Rico muttered, glancing at him.

Dante stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. "Afternoon, Mr. DiSanto," he said, keeping his voice steady. "We're here for the usual payment. It's time to settle up."

DiSanto's lips tightened, and he shook his head. "I already told your people, I'm not paying anymore. I don't need your protection."

Dante's gut tightened. He had expected resistance, but the reality of the situation was worse than he thought. Behind him, he could feel the weight of Rico and Luca's eyes, waiting for him to act.

"You know how this works," Dante said, his voice low. "Just pay what you owe, and we'll walk away."

DiSanto crossed his arms. "I'm not paying. I'm not giving you another dime."

Dante felt the tension in the room rise, and before he could respond, Luca stepped forward, his face twisted into an amused grin. "Old man's got a lot of guts for someone about to lose everything."

Without waiting for a response, Luca grabbed a nearby shelf and tipped it over, sending glassware crashing to the floor. The loud shatter echoed through the small shop, and Dante felt his stomach turn. Rico followed suit, knocking over a display of small electronics, watching with a smirk as they clattered to the ground.

DiSanto flinched, his face paling further. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, his voice breaking as he watched the destruction unfold.

"You wanna play?" Luca sneered, stepping closer to the counter. "We can do this all day, old man. Or you can pay up and save us the trouble."

DiSanto clenched his fists but didn't move. "I'm not paying!" he spat.

Luca's smirk faded, and without warning, he reached across the counter and grabbed DiSanto by the collar, yanking him forward. The older man gasped as Luca's fist connected with his stomach, doubling him over in pain. Dante stood frozen for a second, his mind racing as he watched Luca enjoy every second of the power trip.

"Let him go," Dante muttered, his voice barely audible.

Rico, laughing, grabbed another shelf, knocking more items to the ground as if it was all a game. "Man, this guy just doesn't get it, does he?" Rico said, glancing at Dante. "You gonna just stand there, Vitale?"

Dante felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, but his gut twisted in disgust. He hated this, hated what they were doing, hated what he was becoming. But he knew better than to intervene. He was stuck.

Luca gave DiSanto another hard shove, sending him sprawling to the floor. "Last chance, old man," Luca said, standing over him. "You either cough up the cash, or we leave you with nothing."

DiSanto groaned, clutching his stomach, his defiance crumbling. With shaking hands, he reached for the cash register, pulling out a wad of bills. "Here. Take it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Just... take it and go."

Luca grinned, snatching the money out of DiSanto's hands. "That's more like it."

Rico laughed again, kicking some of the broken glass out of his way as they turned to leave. Dante followed them out.