The Gifted Medical Warrior

I Hate Disrespect

Casa Del Drogo Villa (House of the Dragon).

I stepped out of the car and adjusted my suit as I took a glance at Casa del Drago. The villa was built on the northern edge of the town, with walls and iron gates. The reputation of this place wasn’t just whispered in hushed tones—it was feared.

Casa del Drago had long been known as the stronghold of the most powerful figures in the country. It's a place where politicians and kingmakers gather to determine and change the country's destinies. Even the police approached with caution, never daring to fully carry out their authority within its walls. Something about this place suggested that laws were mere suggestions here.

There were rumors about the villa’s owner. Some said it belonged to a mafia lord. Some called him devil and his name alone could make grown men break into cold sweat. The dark stories surrounding Casa del Drago were too many to count: people who dared to come too close, end up disappearing without a trace, their bodies only found days or weeks later, after being dumped in the woods or floating in the river.

As I looked around the perimeter, I saw the security guards stationed just beyond the gates. Even at this distance, I could feel their presence was deadly. Their tailored suits did little to hide the weapons beneath their fabric. It consists of knives, guns, and all tools of the trade for men like them. Mafia men who wore civility like a mask, are those hiding lethal intent beneath the surface.

When I was about to approach the gates, a sleek, black Lamborghini Aventador roared up beside me. The car came to a stop. The door opened, and a man stepped out. He wore a cream-colored suit.

"Who do we have here?" he asked. I could sense his voice was laced with condescension.

I raised my brows, trying to know where I'd met him before. "Do you know me?" I asked.

The man chuckled. "Of course, I know you, Ryder George. Everyone in this town knows about you—or, at least, they know about your family."

He speaks arrogance. He extended his hand with exaggerated grace, as though introducing himself was a privilege I should cherish. "Reginald Thornton-Furst, President and CEO of Everwood Security Services," he announced. "And I must say, I’m rather surprised to see one of my employees standing outside Casa del Drago."

Then I realized. Reginald Thornton-Furst— was the brother of my brother’s wife. And he was also the president of the very company I had just started working for. Though we had never met in person.

I greeted him politely. But before I could turn away, his expression changed suddenly, his eyes were narrowing as if a storm was gathering behind them.

"What the hell are you doing here, Ryder?" Reginald demanded. "Don’t you know men like you don’t just stroll into Casa del Drago? They end up buried six feet under."

His word hurt my gut, but I shoved it down, forcing myself to stay calm. "I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone," I replied evenly, meeting his gaze without flinching.

Reginald’s sneer deepened. "Leave you alone? Oh, no, Ryder. Disrespect runs in your blood, doesn’t it? Your brother Vinie was just as insufferable—arrogant, entitled, thinking the world owes him something. You’re all the same. Parasites, leeching off others because you can’t stand on your own. I hate your family. Hell, if not for my sister, I’d hate everything you stand for."

The words hit harder than I expected this time. Before I could formulate a response, the door to the villa swung open, interrupting us. A man stepped out; his presence was commanding attention. He was tall and had a chiseled jawline and piercing eyes.

He stopped in front of Reginald, offering a curt nod. "Reginald. What’s going on here?" He asked.

Reginald walked closer to the man. "I’m here to see Mr. Watson," Reginald said to the man.

Mr. Watson? I was surprised. How could someone like him know Mr Watson? I turned to Reginald. "You know Mr. Watson?" I asked.

He smiled. "Of course, I do, I only associate with the respectable and powerful, Ryder. Mr. Watson is certainly one of them." He replied to me.

The man who came from the Villa asked Reginald. "And what business do you have with Mr. Watson, Reginald?"

"I’m here to discuss the redevelopment of the Ravenswood District," he said. "We’ve spoken about it before, and I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement." Reginald explained further to him.

The man then turned his attention back to me. "And you," he said. "Who might you be?". He asked.

"I’m looking for the Eagle." I replied to him.

Immediately I said, the man's expression suddenly changed, the guards present drew their guns in a very quick motion and aimed them directly at me.

"Ah, no, no, no!" Reginald exclaimed; his voice was trembling. He scrambled to hide behind me like a shield. "This is a mistake! Ryder, what have you done?"

The man looked straight at me in the eye, his gun was still trained on me. "Who did you say you were looking for?" he repeated.

I stood my ground, meeting his gaze with unwavering. "I’m looking for Ethan Blackwood," I said. "Code 9412-Eagle-7."

His expression changed after that. He stared at Reginald, who was now shaking behind me, then back to me. "And who are you?" he demanded.

I straightened my posture. "Captain Ryder George, Valkyrie Unit."

"Tag?" he asked, his voice was laced with skepticism.

"Nightshade-12," I replied instantly, and my eyes never left his.

Reaching into my jacket slowly to avoid any sudden movements, I took out an envelope and held it out. "Give this to Ethan Blackwood. He’ll understand." I said as I handed out the envelope.

The man hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and taking the envelope. As he took the envelope. "I hate it when people point guns at me. It’s... unwise." I said to him.

I took a deliberate step closer to him, closing the distance between us, I locked my eyes on his. "Lower your gun. It’s disrespectful," I said.

For a moment, everywhere was silent. The surrounding guards paused and still aimed their guns at me, their fingers were hovering over the triggers, waiting for a single cue to act. The man’s eyes locked with mine, and his expression changed. Slowly, he lowered his weapon. He signaled to the other guards with a nod, and they followed his order. They lowered their guns, but their grips on their guns remained firm.

"Stay here, I’ll be right back."

He said and, without another word, he turned on his heel and went back into the villa with the envelope still clutched tightly in his hand.

Reginald came to me. "I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, Ryder," he said, and looked nervously at the villa. "But I’d advise you to leave now, before he returns. I don’t want to see you get hurt."

I turned to him. "I hate chatterboxes who don’t know when to stop, it would be wise for you to stay out of my way." I warned him.

His face twisted. "What am I supposed to do?" he spat. Then his voice starts rising. "Your family is nothing but a pack of poor rats, feeding off the scraps of people who actually matter. You’re all leeches, Ryder."

He came closer to me and said, "And your brother, Vinie? He was the worst of you. Worthless. He couldn’t even hold enough value to buy a house in this town. A disgrace."

The words hit me hard. My jaw became tightened. "Careful," I warned him. But he wasn’t done.

"You think you’re any different?" he sneered. "You’re just as—"

I slapped him instantly. Reginald stumbled back; he covered his face as blood began to trickle from his nose. His eyes were widened.

I stepped forward and stood over him. "I warned you to be careful," I growled.

He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say another word, my hand struck again, this time with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground. He landed on the ground with a heavy thud, his body became limp as his head lolled to the side.

For a moment, the world fell into silence. His driver, who had been frozen in place, snapped into action and rushed to his side. He knelt; he looked so panicked as he checked for signs of life.

"He’s fine," I said. "Get him out of here."

The driver helped Reginald to his feet. Reginald’s body sagged against him, his head lolling as the driver half-dragged, half-carried him toward the car.

Just then, the door to the villa opened again, and a man stepped out. He looks so huge. His muscles bulged against the fabric of his tailored suit, and his face was as hard as stone. His eyes were so cold.

He came forward. When he finally stopped in front of me, he loomed so large that he seemed to block out the sun. "Are you the one asking for my boss?" he growled.

I didn’t flinch. "Yes," I replied to him.

For a moment, he was silent. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it. He gave a nod, but his expression remained cold. "Take out everything on him," he barked.

The guards moved quickly, their hands were rough as they searched me, they took away anything they deemed unnecessary or threatening. My jacket, my phone, even my watch, were all taken.

Before I could protest, they put a blindfold over my eyes. Strong hands gripped my arms, as they pushed me forward.

Behind me, I heard the giant man’s voice again. "Take him away," he growled. He spoke again, referring to Reginald, who was still slumped and dazed. "And tell him not to come back without a damn good reason."