Chapter 304: Only fair

ROMEO POV

The first man stopped at the edge of my table. The other two spread out instinctively. Not enough to surround me. Enough to make their intention clear.

I lowered my glass slowly, setting it on the table between us. The music still pounded through the club. Lights flashed across crowded bodies. Laughter rose and fell from somewhere near the dance floor.

None of it touched this corner. Not anymore. The guard standing closest to me straightened slightly. Trying very hard not to look like three security men had just been sent to deal with one guest.

My gaze moved over him once. Then the man to his right. Then the third. A quick assessment. Habit. None of them looked nervous.

“Sir.” I looked back at the first guard. His expression remained neutral.

“Please follow us.” No explanation. No attempt at one either. Interesting. I glanced at the man for a moment before pushing myself smoothly to my feet. The glass remained on the table, half-finished.

A waste. The guards shifted immediately. Not aggressive. Not relaxed either. Just alert. As if they had been given very specific instructions about how this was supposed to go.

The music swallowed us the moment we stepped away from the private section. Bodies moved around us in waves of flashing lights and shifting shadows. Nobody paid attention. Nobody looked twice.

Three security guards escorting a man through a crowded club wasn’t unusual enough to earn concern. Not here. I slipped my hands into my pockets as we walked. The lead guard stayed several steps ahead. The other two settled behind me.

Close enough to react. Far enough not to advertise what they were doing.

Professional. At least someone in this situation was. My gaze drifted lazily through the crowd as we moved. Past the bar. Past the dance floor. Past the staircase.

The staircase.

My eyes flicked toward it briefly. Empty. No sign of Katya. No sign of Michael. Nothing. The expression on my face didn’t change. Something unpleasant settled in my chest anyway.

Annoying. I ignored it. The lead guard continued walking.

I followed. Thirty seconds passed. Then forty. A minute. My gaze shifted ahead again. A faint crease appeared between my brows.

Not because of the escort. Because of the direction. The main entrance sat on the opposite side of the club. And we weren’t heading toward it.

Interesting. The realization settled quietly. No immediate reaction. No change in pace. I simply watched.

Observed. The guards continued moving. The crowd gradually thinned. The music became more muffled. The lighting dimmed. Employees replaced customers. Staff corridors. Storage rooms.

Restricted access doors. Now I was curious. The lead guard stopped briefly at a secured door and pushed it open. Cool air spilled through the opening.

My eyes moved past him. Concrete walls. Service hallway.

Definitely not the front entrance. A faint smile threatened at the corner of my mouth. There it is. Michael wasn’t inviting me out. He was throwing me out.

The realization should have annoyed me. Instead, it almost made me laugh. All of this because of a conversation. Because Katya had walked across a room. Because she had looked at me.

Because he had noticed. The door swung shut behind us. The bass from the club dropped to a distant vibration. The hallway stretched ahead, narrow and mostly empty. The lead guard resumed walking. I followed without complaint. The two behind me adjusted automatically.

One step closer this time. Subtle. But not subtle enough. I noticed. My gaze drifted over my shoulder briefly.

The younger of the two guards immediately straightened.

Caught. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“Relax,” I said calmly. The man blinked. Neither guard answered. Smart. I faced forward again. The hallway ended at a heavy steel door.

Exit. Back entrance. Exactly as expected. The lead guard stopped beside it.

For the first time since approaching my table, he looked slightly uncomfortable. Not frightened. Not nervous. Just aware that this part of the job wasn’t going exactly how he’d imagined. Most men became difficult when they realized they were being thrown out. Most men argued.

Threatened. Demanded explanations. I had done none of those things.

Which somehow seemed to bother them more. The lead guard pushed the door open. Cool night air rushed inside immediately. The city greeted us with distant traffic and the glow of streetlights.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then the guard finally spoke. “Our boss would like you to leave.”

The cool air of the alley hit my face, smelling of damp asphalt and old garbage. I stepped out onto the cracked concrete, the heavy steel door clicking shut behind us, cutting the club’s bass down to a muffled thud.

I took a single step forward, expecting them to turn around and lock the door. They didn’t. The lead guard didn’t head back inside.

Instead, he stepped out into the alley, his shadow stretching long under the single, buzzing amber streetlight.

The two behind me didn’t stop either. They fanned out, flanking me, blocking the exits to the main street. The air shifted. The professional, polite escort routine evaporated.

“Your boss didn’t just say to kick me out, did he?” I murmured, keeping my hands casually shoved in my pockets.

The lead guard cracked his knuckles. A ugly, eager grin replaced his uncomfortable look. “Mr. Giovanni said you don’t know your place. He said to make sure you’re too broken to look at her again.”

The other two closed the distance fast, fists clenching, stepping up to do the job.

They were quick. But I was entirely unbothered.

Before the younger guard on my left could even swing, my right hand slid out of my pocket. The cold weight of the suppressed Beretta was already clearing my waistband.

Pft. Pft.

Two muffled, metallic coughs tore through the quiet alley. The lead guard and the young one on the left dropped like stones, the kinetic force of the heavy rounds snapping their heads back before they collapsed into the dirt.

Dead before they hit the concrete. Clean, precise entry wounds right between the eyes. The third man—the one on my right—froze, his fist mid-air, his eyes blowing wide with sheer, paralyzing terror.

Before his brain could process the two corpses twitching at his feet, I lowered the barrel and fired a third time.

Pft.

“Ahhh! Fuck!” The bullet shattered his kneecap. He collapsed instantly, clutching his leg, rolling on the damp ground as blood began to pool beneath his trousers.

He choked on his own scream, desperate to stay quiet, staring up at me like I was a ghost. I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink. I just stood there, the gun held loosely at my side, the silencer still faintly smoking in the crisp night air.

I stepped closer to the groaning man, the heel of my shoe clicking sharply against the pavement. I stopped right above him, looking down with detached curiosity.

“Let’s try this again,” I said, my voice smooth, almost conversational. “What exactly did ‘your boss’ tell you to do?”

“He—he said…” The guard choked, tears and sweat mixing on his face as he rocked back and forth. “He said to use the back door… so nobody would see. He told us to break your hands. Break your face. He said to leave you in the dirt so you’d learn your lesson.”

“The back door. Convenient.” I nodded slowly, glancing at the heavy steel exit, then back down at him.

“That child really should stop letting his emotions dictate his security protocols. It makes him sloppy.”

The man looked at the barrel of the gun, his chest heaving. “Please—please, I was just following—”

Pft

I didn’t let him finish. The final bullet caught him right in the forehead, cutting off his plea mid-breath.

His head snapped back against the brick wall, and then he slumped sideways, joining his partners.

Silence settled over the alley once more.

I let out a soft, bored sigh, looking down at the three bleeding bodies ruining the aesthetic of the pavement.

A waste of good ammunition. I pulled a pack of cigarette, lightning one up to my lips while looking towards where a CCTV camera was supposed to be for a newly established club.

A smirk pulled at my lips as I drew out my phone from my pocket. A very interesting idea popping up in my head.

Michael wanted to send a message. It was only fair that I sent one back. Turning my back on the mess, I adjusted my jacket, slipped the suppressed weapon back into its holster, and walked out of the alley into the city night.