Page 41 of His Cruel Exception

“Bring him to the car,” Igor says, his voice cutting through the ringing in my ears.

“I don’t think so,” a very familiar voice says.

The deep baritone is unmistakable, and for a moment, I'm convinced my panicked brain has finally started imagining things, because there's no way Antonio could have heard me calling for him.

The hands holding me suddenly loosen, and my knees buckle beneath me. I barely have time to register that I'm falling before another pair of arms catches me, pulling me firmly against a solid chest and preventing me from hitting the ground.

Antonio.

Chapter

Twenty

ALEX

The moment Antonio’s arms close around me, I grab onto his shirt with both hands, clinging to him for dear life as I press myself as close to him as possible. The fog in my head begins to clear, and when I finally lift my face from Antonio's chest, blinking away the tears blurring my vision, I realize that we're no longer alone.

Igor and his accomplice are on their knees a short distance away, with Davide and another man standing over them, their guns trained on the two men.I tighten my hold on Antonio, feeling his hand against my back as I watch Enzo step toward the kneeling men.

“What do you want with him?” Enzo asks, his voice unnervingly calm.

Igor lifts his head, and even from where I'm standing, I can see the defiance in his expression as he looks at Enzo. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Very well, then,” Enzo says, giving a small nod to the man standing beside Davide.

The man's gun goes off twice in quick succession, and before I can fully process what's happened, Igor's body jerks and collapses onto the ground with a heavy thud. I flinch, my breath catching in my throat as I stare at the spot where he was kneeling only a second ago. My stomach twists, and I tighten my grip on Antonio's shirt as I bury myself against him again.

I've always known that Antonio and his family are dangerous men, and I've never been under any illusion about the kind of things they're capable of doing, but knowing something and witnessing it happen right in front of me are two entirely different experiences.

Enzo turns his attention to the other man, who is still kneeling beside Igor's body, his face pale and his eyes darting nervously between the guns pointed at him.

“What’s your name?”

“Ivan,” he answers quickly, his voice cracking as he straightens his back.

“Care to explain what you need from Alexander?” Antonio asks.

Ivan nods vigorously. “Igor is trying to work his way up the ranks of the New York Bratva,” he begins, swallowing before continuing. “Last week, two men slipped into our base at Brighton Beach to meet with the starshiy. We overheard them pitching a partnership because they're planning to launch a coup to wipe out the Scalera clan and rebuild the Camorra into a unified hierarchy like the Bratva. They wanted manpower and firepower, and they promised to give us full control of the docks and drug distribution.”

He’s saying words, but I don't understand any. Are the Italian and Russian mafias even supposed to work together? I have no idea what the rules are when it comes to organized crime, but I would've thought that two criminal organizations operating in the same city would be more interested in staying out of each other's territory than forming partnerships.

Ivan swallows again, his gaze briefly dropping to Igor's body before returning to Antonio. “Starshiy rejected the offer, but Igor remembered Antonio from when he came to pay Alex's debt, and he figured they must be close,” he continues, speaking faster now. “His plan was to kidnap Alex, get some money, and lure Antonio into being captured. Once the war was over and we had control of the docks, he thought he could get promoted for making it happen.”

“Can you stand?” Antonio asks, looking down at me.

I nod, although I don't like the idea of letting go of him when my legs have only just stopped trembling. He waits until I'm steady on my feet before removing his arms from around me, and the sudden loss of his warmth makes me feel strangely exposed. I fold my arms across my chest, watching as he walks toward Ivan with quick, purposeful strides, his expression giving absolutely nothing away.

Ivan looks up at him, visibly trembling as Antonio comes to a stop in front of him. “You could have left unscathed if you didn't touch him. But I get it, mistakes happen.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ivan wails, his voice rising with desperation as he looks up at Antonio. “Please, I’m sorry.”

Antonio takes Ivan's wrist, his grip firm enough to keep the man's arm extended despite his attempt to pull away. He closes his other hand around Ivan's index finger and bends it backward. Ivan lets out a terrible scream, his entire body jerking as he tries to wrench his hand free. Antonio doesn't so much as blink, maintaining his grip while Ivan struggles, his expression remaining just as composed as it was when he first approached.

I stare in horror, my mouth falling open slightly as Antonio releases the injured finger and takes hold of the middle one.

Oh, God.

Another crack echoes through the alley, followed by a scream that makes my skin prickle. Ivan doubles over, only to be held upright by Antonio's unwavering grip. The rational part of my brain is horrified by what I'm witnessing, but beneath the fear and revulsion, there's a flicker of arousal that makes my face burn.