Chapter 277

Men poured from the trucks. Rifles up. Fanning out across the orphanage grounds in tight, practiced groups.

No shouting.

No panic.

Just quiet, efficient movement. Covering angles. Watching backs. Short hand signals instead of wasted words.

I watched them for three seconds.

That was all I needed.

These weren’t the usual street thugs chasing a quick buck. Not the desperate idiots Santos normally scraped from back alleys with promises of fast cash and stupid plans.

These men knew exactly what they were doing.

“Well.” I let out a slow breath.

“Fuck.”

Santos had finally stopped hiring incompetent morons.

About damn time.

The paranoid bastard had actually opened his wallet this time. Real money. Real training. Real discipline.

I almost respected it.

Almost.

If they weren’t currently marching into an orphanage full of children with loaded rifles, I might have even given him a slow clap.

Almost.

Because credit where credit was due — these men actually knew what they were doing.

No panicked shouting. No sloppy movements. No idiots tripping over their own boots while trying to look intimidating.

A refreshing change.

Apparently, Santos had finally figured out that sending untrained idiots after my wife was a terrible investment.

A little late for the revelation, but hey, better late than never.

These men were here to finish a job.

Unfortunately for them, they had made one tiny mistake.

They forgot I was here.

The problem was never the quality of his men.

The problem was me.

I was the obstacle.

The very large, very irritated, extremely difficult-to-remove obstacle standing between them and the woman they came here for.

And judging by the way they were moving, they were about to learn that lesson the hard way.

At least they might make the next ten minutes interesting.

Shame they were still going to die.

I lowered myself behind the stone wall, watching them spread across the grounds.

Three men moved toward the east wing.

Four swept across the playground.

Two headed toward the administration building.

Another pair stayed back, rifles raised, providing overwatch.

Efficient.

Annoyingly efficient.

I hated when enemies made me acknowledge they had a brain.

It ruined the fun.

I watched them move corner to corner, clearing the orphanage like they owned it.

Rifles raised.

Boots crushing toys left scattered across the grounds.

I looked back toward Alina and the kids.

Their little eyes were squeezed shut.

Exactly as I told them.

Good.

Perfect.

The last thing I wanted was for them to see what happened next.

Especially Alina.

She knew what I was capable of.

But knowing and seeing were two completely different things.

I took one final glance at her.

My wife.

My entire world.

Then I turned back toward the men who had made the worst decision of their lives.

A small smile tugged at my mouth.

They came here hunting.

They came here confident.

They came here believing they were the danger.

Poor bastards.

They had no idea they were the ones in danger.

“You lost?” A voice cut through the stillness as one of them stepped up toward me, gun pointed at my chest, his cocky swagger as fake as the confidence in his eyes.

Oops. Looks like I’ve been caught.

“Not at all,” I replied, my voice cool.

He looked me up and down, his smirk widening.

“What the fuck are you hiding out here for, huh? You some orphanage caretaker playing hero? Or just a dumbass who wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time?”

I sighed.

"You know, I've been called a lot of things."

"Murderous."

"Unreasonable."

"Emotionally unavailable."

"But 'orphanage caretaker' is a new one."

I placed a hand against my chest.

"...I actually find that a little insulting."

His smirk faltered, confusion flickering across his face. He didn’t have time to figure it out.

My fist connected with his jaw before he even saw it coming.

The crack of bone was like music to my ears.

He stumbled back, his hand flying to his face as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“You fuckung Bastard..You’re gonna regret that,” he spat, his voice dripping venom as he straightened, blood staining his teeth.

“No,” I said, leveling my gaze at him,

“you will.”

Before he could react, I flicked the knife in a clean, practiced motion.

The sharp edge caught him just under the jaw, slicing across his throat in one smooth, deliberate cut — deep enough to sever the artery, not so deep that he died instantly. I wanted him to feel it.

His eyes widened in shock.

The gun dropped from his hand, clattering to the ground.

He grabbed at his throat, fingers slipping in the sudden rush of blood, a wet, gurgling sound escaping his mouth as he tried to breathe, tried to scream, tried to do anything at all.

He fell.

I caught him before he hit the ground, dragging his body into the bushes, out of sight.

No noise.

No alarm.

One corpse down.

A shit load more to go.

I turned quickly, glancing back toward the kids.

Their eyes were still closed.

Well, fuck. They’re actually obedient.

A small, surprised smile tugged at my lips despite everything.

Good kids.

I looked for Alina.

She was still crouched behind the planter, watching me with wide eyes.

I blew her a quick kiss.

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the ghost of a smile on her lips.

That’s my girl.

I wiped the blade clean on his jacket and melted back into the shadows,

as another pair of attackers walked toward my direction — toward their death — I stayed hidden, watching.

The bold guy scanned the courtyard, rifle at the ready.

“Where the fuck did Randy go? Didn’t he come up this way?”

The other chuckled, clearly trying to be funny.

“Knowing the pervert, he found a kid… and you know how he is with kids. His perverted ass probably couldn’t help himself. New rule: we shouldn’t have brought that bastard to an orphanage. It’s like a fucking wonderland for him.”

I looked down at the dead body at my feet — the one I’d just killed — and felt a fresh wave of disgust roll through me.

Children?

I wanted to kill him all over again.

Slowly this time.

Pathetic piece of shit.

You deserved worse than a quick knife to the throat.

The bold man sighed.

“Forget about fucking Randy and his fucking child perversion....this place looks fucking empty. Where the fuck are the kids?” he muttered, voice tense.

The second man snorted, clearly trying to be funny.

“Probably all hiding under their beds, crying for mommy… oh wait, they don’t have moms, do they? Little orphans. Bet they’re shitting themselves right now. Cute.”

They both chuckled, a low, ugly sound that echoed in the silence.

“And that bitch Santos is obsessed with? She’s gotta be here somewhere,” the second man continued, voice coated in sleaze.

“Wonder what she like. Must be a real piece of pussy if Santos paid us this much to bring her back. Bet her pussy’s tight as hell. Wonder if she screams nice when you break her in. Might have to take a turn myself before we deliver her. Boss probably won’t mind if we sample the goods first, right?”

My wife.

They were talking about my fucking wife.

Like she was a piece of meat.

Like she was something to be used and passed around.

The rage that hit me was blinding.

You talk about her pussy? You think you have the right to even imagine touching her? You disgusting, worthless pieces of shit. I’ll cut your fucking tongues out and make you choke on them while I watch you bleed out.

The second man kept talking, still laughing.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, sweetheart," the bold one called, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

I stepped out from behind the tree, calm as a corpse, a cold smirk playing on my lips.

“I’m here,” I said, voice laced with biting sarcasm.

“Though I don’t appreciate being called sweetheart.."

Both rifles snapped toward me.

The bold one blinked.

“You’re… Alexander Dimitri.”

I smiled, slow and cold.

“The one and only.”

The taller one grinned, the expression ugly and overeager.

“Well, well, well…” He chuckled.

“Boss is going to be fucking ecstatic. We kill you first, then drag your little wife back to Santos. That’s one hell of a bonus for us.”

I let out a weary sigh.

“…You know what’s adorable?”

The two of them frowned.

“The confidence.”

I glanced around the courtyard theatrically.

“You’ve surrounded an orphanage.”

My gaze returned to them.

“Not me.”

The smirk never left the bold one's face.

“You think you’re walking out of here alive?”

The taller man raised his rifle another inch.

“This place is surrounded. Every exit’s covered. You’re outnumbered.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“Mmm.”

A beat.

“See, that’s the difference between us.”

“What difference?”

“You think numbers win fights.”

I smiled.

“I think competence does. And when I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to end it quickly….”

His partner laughed.

“Big fucking talk for a man with two rifles pointed at his chest.”

“I’ve had worse.”

The first man spat on the ground.

“Enough with the big guy talk. You may be Alexander Dimitri, but you die today. And our boss is going to enjoy breaking your wife after you’re dead.”

Silence.

“He says he’s got plans for that pretty mouth of hers.”

Everything inside me went still.

The smile disappeared.

“Oh.”

I rolled my shoulders once, feeling the tension leave them.

“That…”

I looked at him almost sympathetically.

“…was a catastrophically stupid thing to say.”

He barked a laugh.

“What?”

“I was actually debating leaving one of you alive.”

I shrugged.

“Someone has to deliver bad news.”

I sighed.

“But then you mentioned my wife.”

I gave them an almost apologetic smile.

“Now I’m going to have to kill you both.”

The second man scoffed.

“You really think you’re that good?”

“No.”

I looked from one to the other.

“I think you’re that bad.”

The first man’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Kill hi—”

I smiled.

“You should’ve started with that.”

Then I moved.