Page 97 of Brox Boar

I glance at her too. “Cupcake, maybe you want to leave us now. It might get messy.”

Lana doesn’t move.

Alessio looks at me, desperate. “Brox, please, save me. I can help,” he says. “I can fix this. I can talk to my uncles. I can–”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” I say.

Rio doesn’t blink. Alessio’s breath quickens. He glances at the door again, then back to us. He has no weapon. No leverage. No exit.

Rio’s attention returns to Lana. “Leave.”

Lana lifts her chin. “I’ve seen people die.”

My gaze stays on her. I’ve seen Lana break and rebuild herself more times than I can count. Still, tonight is different. Tonight is blood on our floor.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” I ask.

Lana’s eyes meet mine. “I’m part of you. You’re part of me. I want to stay.”

Rio holds her gaze for a second, then turns back to Alessio.

Alessio whispers, “Please.”

Rio fires. The gunshot cracks through the dining room. Alessio’s head snaps back. His body drops fast, knees folding, arms flailing once, then he hits the floor with a heavy thud. Blood spreads at his forehead in an instant, dark and sudden against pale stone.

I fire next. One shot into his heart, clean and final. No second guessing. No mercy. No chance for a last twitch to become a problem.

The sound fades, and silence rushes in.

Lana startles at the noise, shoulders jumping, her eyes widening for a split second. Then she stills. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t cry. She sits there in her yellow dress with her spine straight, breathing controlled, gaze locked on the body.

Rio lowers his gun first. He checks Alessio without stepping too close, eyes scanning for movement. None.

I lower mine next and set it on the table near my plate, the barrel angled away.

Lana reaches for her champagne with a steady hand. She lifts it and takes a slow sip, her gaze fixed on Alessio’s body until she swallows. Then she raises the flute slightly, a silent toast.

“To you,” she says.

A grin tugs at my mouth before I rein it in. Rio’s expression barely changes, though approval flashes in his eyes.

I lift my drink. “To us.”

Rio follows suit. Lana raises hers again. When the moment passes, I set my drink down, pull out my cell and write a text to Shiaou. ‘Talk to Sol. We need to dispose of a body.’

‘Got it.’ Shiaou replies within an instant.

Rio steps behind Lana’s chair and rests a hand on her shoulder. She covers his hand with hers, staying seated, her gaze drifting once to the blood before returning to us. She’s unshaken in all the ways that matter, and I feel pride rise in my chest, hot and dangerous.

Shiaou enters, his eyes take in the body on the floor, the blood, the guns. His face doesn’t change. He steps toward Alessio without hesitation, already planning the lift, the wrap, the route.

“Was the steak to your liking?” He asks.

“Perfect.” I say, and Rio nods.

Shiaou picks up the body, dragging the weight out of the room and leaving only what remains–blood, a chair knocked crooked, the smell of gunpowder mixing with steak and champagne.

Rio’s gaze flicks once to the blood, then away. He doesn’t react the way normal men do. He doesn’t pause to process. He doesn’t need to. He moves on.