Page 32 of His Cruel Exception

I meet Davide in the foyer, where he's waiting with his usual impassive expression. I give him a brief rundown of the situation and instruct him to pick up Romero and Liam then bring them to The Bloodrot. He acknowledges the order with a nod and heads toward the elevator, while I collect the keys to my BMW from the console table and join him as we make our way down to the underground parking garage.

The drive to The Bloodrot is quick. I park in my usual spot and head inside, where a few employees are already busy preparing for the evening. A few of them straighten when they notice me and offer hurried greetings. I stop one of them and instruct him to get Vincent. He disappears immediately, and I take the opportunity to inspect the work that's been done since my last visit, noting the areas that have already been completed and those that still require attention.

I have no intention of allowing the renovations to drag on unnecessarily, particularly when the club now serves a purpose beyond entertaining men with more money than sense.

Vincent appears only a few minutes later, looking slightly out of breath. “Mr. Scalera,” he greets, straightening his shoulders. “Welcome.”

I acknowledge him with a slight inclination of my head, and he launches into a detailed explanation of the renovations I ordered, updating me on everything from the progress the contractors have made to the materials that have arrived and the work scheduled for the next few days. It's easy to see why Esposito left him in charge.

“I’ll be using the woods this morning, so make sure no one comes near there,” I say when he's done speaking.

Vincent's expression doesn't change, although I notice the slight pause before he answers. “Understood, sir.”

I take out my phone as I dismiss him, and send a message to the group chat to let my cousins know I've arrived.

Once that's done, I make my way behind the bar and select a bottle of whiskey, along with five glasses, before heading toward the back of the building. The staff give me a wide berth as I pass, and I don't bother acknowledging their curious glances.

I push open the back door and step outside, where the cool morning air greets me, carrying the damp, earthy smell of the woods beyond the clearing. The ground is still slightly wet, and I can hear birds somewhere among the trees as I make my way toward the narrow path leading into the forest.

I walk deeper into the woods, navigating the uneven ground while the distant sounds of the club gradually disappear behind me, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the crack of a twig beneath my shoes.

It isn't long before my thoughts drift back to Friday, when I chased Alexander through these very woods. I remember how determined he was to escape, even when it should have been obvious that he stood very little chance of outrunning me, and my mouth curves into a small smile at the memory. While I find his occasional displays of defiance vexing, I can't deny that there's something entertaining about watching him gather the courage to challenge me, only to become a nervous, blushing mess when I give him my full attention.

After walking a little farther, I find a suitable clearing surrounded by thick trees. The ground is reasonably level and there’s a large tree stump near the edge that provides a convenient place to set down the whiskey and glasses. I survey the surrounding area, making sure there isn't anything that might interfere with our activities.

The morning sunlight filters through the branches overhead, illuminating patches of the forest floor, while the thick canopy keeps most of the clearing comfortably shaded.

I haven't been waiting long when I hear the familiar sound of my cousins approaching, their voices carrying through the trees before they come into view.

“You already have the celebratory drink,” Enzo says, pointing at the whiskey.

Davide arrives a short while later with Romero and Liam in tow, their hands cuffed behind their backs and their faces slick with sweat.

“Tie them to that tree there,” Marco tells Davide, gesturing toward two thick trunks at the edge of the clearing.

“I’ll help,” Raffaele says cheerfully, already walking toward Romero.

Romero fixes my cousin with an angry glare. “Don’t touch me,” he snaps.

“You have a lot of nerve,” I snarl, stepping forward and striking him across the face with the back of my hand.

His head jerks to the side, and a sharp sting spreads across my knuckles where his lip ring has split the skin. I glance briefly at the thin line of blood forming across my hand, flexing my fingers once before looking back at him.

Raffaele doesn't give Romero another opportunity to speak. He grabs him and throws his back against the tree, pinning him there. Romero struggles, but Raffaele finishes tying him up without losing the satisfied smile on his face.

“He made me do it,” Liam suddenly shouts, his voice cracking as he looks desperately between us. He continues to pull against his restraints, his face pale beneath the sweat covering his forehead.

“Do we look like we give a fuck?” Enzo asks.

“I feel like shooting them is giving them a merciful death,” Carmine muses, studying the two men with a faint frown. “But I forgot my knives.”

“We shouldn’t waste our time on these scums anyway,” I say, glancing at my watch before extending my hand toward Davide.

He passes me my Beretta while Raffaele draws his SIG and steps into position beside me. Romero's expression remains hard, his jaw clenched as he stares back at us.

Liam doesn't bother pretending to be brave. “Please, give me another chance,” he cries, his words tumbling over one another as he tries to bargain for his life. “I’ll do b⁠—”

Raffaele and I fire at the same time, the bullets entering through their eyes. Their bodies slump against their restraints, their heads snapping to the side on impact before their bodies hang motionless against the trees.