Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I glanced toward the door.

One man was unconscious, another was trying to get up, blood dripping from his nose onto the concrete, and the third was glaring at me with disbelief and a broken nose. I pointed the tray at him.

”Don’t you fucking dare.”

He stared back at me. I wasn’t quite sure what I was threatening him with anymore, and apparently, neither was he. I dropped the tray and bolted.

The corridor outside was blissfully empty, and for about three seconds, I thought I might have gotten lucky. Then I heard voices. I pressed myself against the wall and listened in.

”...already in position.”

”How much time?”

”Not much.”

My heart dropped. I moved closer, staying hidden around the corner, spotting two men standing further down the service corridor. One was holding a radio, the other was gazing toward the ballroom entrance.

”The device is already there,” the man with the radio said. ”Once the signal comes through, it’s done.”

Ice ran through me despite the heat coursing through my veins.

”The target is who exactly?”

”Castelli.”

I stopped breathing for a moment.

”What about the omega?”

”He’s being moved out separately. Volpe wants him alive now.”

”Why?”

”Does it fucking matter?” The voice got irritated. ”We don’t ask questions, we just do what we’re told!”

”I know, but it’s strange...the Boss wanted that Omega dead before, now he wants him alive?”

The first guy shrugged. ”Orders are orders, Roland. The explosion happens, Castelli dies, and everyone blames terrorists for the attack. The omega disappears in the chaos.”

My blood ran cold. No. No, no, no.

They were planning to kill Lorenzo?!

I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop any sound from escaping.

The ballroom was packed with people. Hundreds of them. Lorenzo was in there. My husband was in there, and someone had planted a bomb.

The polished music from the gala still echoed through the walls, blissfully unaware of what was unfolding behind them. People were clinking glasses, laughing, chatting about business, maybe even complaining about the weather.

And somewhere in that stunning building, there was a device waiting to kill them. Waiting to kill Lorenzo.

I turned around and bolted. I didn’t care about being quiet anymore. I needed to find someone...anyone.

Lorenzo’s guards, Timothy... A waiter or a random lady holding a champagne glass. I just needed to get to someone who could stop this.

I rounded a corner and almost crashed into a guy. He reached for me, thick fingers stretching toward my throat. I ducked low, so his hand caught my shoulder instead, fingers digging hard into muscle.

I twisted away violently and shoved him into the wall with both hands; his body hit the concrete with a solid thud. He recovered too fast.

He swung a heavy fist at my face. I raised my arm to block, but the impact still knocked me sideways and pain flashed through my forearm like a hot spike, bones vibrating under the force. I stumbled.

He grabbed my collar and yanked me forward. I drove my knee upward into his groin with everything I had. He grunted, face contorting, loosening his grip just enough for me to twist free...only to see another guy rushing toward me.

”Oh, come on!”

I ran. The corridor felt endless. My lungs burned. My legs felt heavy and clumsy from the residual drugs, and my head still swam, but pure adrenaline kicked in hard.

Every thought narrowed down to one thing: Lorenzo. I had to reach him.

The guys were chasing me through the service corridor, their footsteps pounding behind me like an angry drumline. I pushed through a door and found myself in the kitchen, where several staff members turned in surprise, one mid-garnish with a sprig of green held high. I ran straight through them.

”Excuse me!”

Someone shouted after me.

”I’M SORRY!”

I grabbed a serving tray from a counter and tossed it behind me. It crashed onto the floor with a loud metallic clang. One of the guys stumbled over it, feet skidding, but I didn’t stop to see if he fell. I darted between counters, ducked under a startled chef’s arm, and almost slipped on the polished floor, my arms flailing in a way I hoped no one ever mentioned again.

”This is fucking nuts,” I gasped.

A man appeared at the kitchen entrance, blocking the way. I grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher, the metal cold and heavy in my hands. He halted and I lifted it with both arms.

”Please don’t make me use this.” He stared at me, and I stared back. ”Because I don’t really know how.”

He charged, closing the distance fast.

”Fine, you asked for it!”

I swung the extinguisher with both hands. It thudded hard against his shoulder with a deep, solid impact that jarred all the way up my arms. He collapsed sideways into a stack of empty crates; wood splintered and crates toppled around him. I stared at him for a second, a mix of horror and a bit of pride swelling within me.

”Wow...apparently, I do know how.”

My breathing was ragged now, chest heaving, and I heard footsteps behind me again. I dropped the extinguisher and burst through another door. The music blared louder. I was getting close to the ballroom.

I could hear laughter, voices, and the clink of glasses. The normalcy of it made my panic heighten. How could everyone remain so calm when something awful was about to go down?

I rounded the last corner, and two men stepped into the hallway. I skidded to a stop, my shoes scraping against the floor.

They’d seen me. One reached for his weapon. I backpedaled, heart racing wildly. I had to get past them. I had to reach Lorenzo. One of them advanced, and I glanced behind to see the other guys coming from the opposite direction. I was cornered.

For a split second, fear threatened to engulf me. Then I thought of Lorenzo’s face. The way he’d looked at me in the rain, the way he held my hand, the way he said we could build our life together at our own pace. I couldn’t let that life slip away.

Not tonight. Not because some idiotic psycho named Volpe decided my husband had to die.

I clenched my fists...fat chance, motherfuckers.

”Okay,” I murmured.

One of the men stepped closer. I looked at him, then the other, and managed a smile despite the fear churning in my stomach.

”Let’s make this difficult.”

I lunged. The fight turned into a blur of bodies, limbs, and pain. I ducked under one man’s reaching arm, drove my shoulder hard into his chest, and sent him crashing into the wall with a heavy thud that rattled the fixtures.

The second guy grabbed me from behind, arms locking around my torso.

I twisted violently enough to break his balance and slammed my elbow backward into his ribs. He swore, the air leaving him in a sharp grunt. I kicked the side of his ankle hard; the joint gave and he stumbled. I shoved him away with both hands and sprinted.

The ballroom doors were only a few feet away. I could see the golden light spilling through the cracks, hear the music, see people moving through the glass. Lorenzo was inside. I reached for the door, grasping the handle.

And then I heard a voice behind me.

”Don’t.”

I froze. The voice was calm...too calm. I turned slowly, and the guy at the end of the corridor wasn’t one of the men chasing me. He looked older, better dressed, totally composed, and he had a phone up to his ear.

”Tell Volpe the omega got out,” he said.

Ice coursed through my veins. Our eyes locked, and he smiled.

”But the bomb is still on schedule!”

I gaped, then looked back at the ballroom doors. The music continued, the guests laughed, and Lorenzo was somewhere inside. I threw the door open.

”Dracula!”

My voice shattered through the music as I stumbled into the ballroom, blood trickling down my arm, chest heaving from the chase.

Heads turned, and people stared, but I didn’t care. I frantically scanned the crowd for a black suit, pale hair, and green eyes. Where the hell was he?

”Lorenzo!”