Page 49 of His Cruel Exception

I catch sight of movement near the driver's seat and raise my rifle, firing as the man attempts to bring his weapon around. He slumps forward against the steering wheel, and the bus's horn begins blaring, its long, uninterrupted note cutting through the gunfire.

“Fucking hell,” Carmine mutters beside me.

The horn continues as the last few attackers attempt to hold their positions, but they have nowhere left to go. One final shot rings out from inside the bus before Mason fires in response, and the man responsible collapses across the aisle.

I keep my rifle raised, watching the shattered windows for any sign of movement while the others hold their positions. The smell of burnt rubber has grown stronger, and smoke drifts from the front of the bus, partially obscuring the headlights still shining across the road.

“They’re all down,” Davide reports as he crosses the road to us. “If all five of you are okay, then there’s no casualty on our side.”

“We’re standing,” Marco replies.

I take out my phone to summon the driver and find ten missed calls from Alexander, along with several messages. I quickly send the driver a message instructing him to return, then open my conversation with Alexander.

Are you on your way?

Don’t forget you have to bid on Logan! And tell your cousins, especially Enzo.

It’s starting, where are you?

Antonio?

It started and it’s fierce, you’re missing out.

Two dancers are already eliminated, hurry up.

Okay, I’m worried. Are you okay?

Please answer me. Did I do something wrong?

Antonio?

I’m on my way.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

ANTONIO

I put my phone back into my pocket, and when the limo appears a few minutes later, we emerge from the bushes and make our way toward the vehicle. Davide and the others have already begun making arrangements, so we leave the cleanup to them.

My mind is now on the anxious little stripper waiting for me at The Bloodrot.

When we get to the club, we put on our masks before stepping out. We enter the club, and the place is packed with people gathered around the stage and the surrounding tables, their attention fixed on the two dancers still competing.

We make our way to our booth, and I see Alexander before he notices us. He's sitting with his phone in his hand, worrying at his lower lip as he checks the screen. He is so preoccupied that he doesn't even look up until I slide into the seat beside him and take his hand.

His head snaps up, and the relief that washes over his face is immediate. His fingers close tightly around mine, and he leans toward me, looking me over. “What happened?”

“Nothing we didn't take care of.”

Carmine waves over a waiter, and Enzo picks up the bidding tablet from the table.

“Where's the bid board?” Enzo asks.

“Right there,” Alexander replies, pointing across the room to a large whiteboard mounted near the stage. The dancers' names are arranged beneath their current rankings, with their bids written beside them. “Logan is in third place.”

Enzo looks toward the stage, where Logan is still performing in nothing but his tie and boxer briefs. My cousin watches him for a while before taking out his black card and entering a bid on the tablet. He passes it to me without a word. I enter ten thousand dollars, confirm the amount, and turn the screen to Alexander and his face immediately breaks into a wide smile. I hand the tablet to Marco, who adds his bid before passing it to Carmine, and Raffaele takes his turn last.