CHAPTER 53: WAY TO SABBIA BIANCA

Vincent and Victor exchanged a tense look just as Dante let out a broken, bitter laugh, blood smeared across his lips.

"Who’s laughing now?" he taunted, trying to push himself up from the ground.

Victor caught him by the collar before he could fully stand and drove the barrel of his gun against his skull.

"We are. You’re our ticket out of this mess."

Dante spat blood onto his cheek. "Fuck you, coward. Finish our duel."

Victor tightened his grip around Dante’s throat, his voice low and flat. "Try that again and I’ll put a hole through your head."

Sirens echoed in the distance and grew louder until police cars slid to a stop at the mouth of the alley.

Doors flew open and officers moved into cover behind their vehicles, rifles raised and aimed at them.

"Drop the weapons! Keep your positions!" one of them ordered.

Neither Vincent nor Victor flinched. Having guns aimed at them was routine. Being hunted was practically part of their schedule.

"We’re leaving this district," Vincent called out, raising his voice above the sirens. "Give us a car and we will give you your man back at the outer ring. That’s it."

But the cops weren’t the only headache. Behind the officers stood Lucero’s men, their rifles raised as well.

The standoff between the two groups hummed with tension. But right now Vincent is more worried about snipers. He scanned the rooftops. Nothing obvious, though that never meant "safe."

Victor pressed the gun harder against Dante’s head. "Or he dies."

Dante thrashed, pain twisting his expression. "Don’t listen to them! Take the shot!"

Victor leaned closer to his ear, almost amused. "You really don’t give a shit about living, do you?"

"I know you won’t kill me," Dante hissed. "Unless you want the Basilisk to burn Dominus HQ and gut your precious Diablo."

Victor’s jaw clenched. The bastard was right. Keeping Vincent had already strained their standing with Lucero.

Killing the Basilisk’s grandson, the Lioness’s son, would ignite a war Dominus couldn’t survive. Not even Lunox would walk out of that intact.

But they still needed everyone here to believe they were willing to do anything, especially with Lucero’s men inching closer by the second.

"Damn it..." Vincent muttered, leaning toward Victor. "I’ll turn myself in. Use the moment to get out."

It was the smart call, clean and logical. But Victor wasn’t the type to walk away from someone mid-mission.

It was loyalty, and pride, and something stubborn he’d never admit aloud.

"No." His answer came sharp and final.

Then he pulled the trigger and shot Dante in the leg.

Dante’s scream tore through the alley, bouncing off the walls and tightening every muscle in the crowd.

The atmosphere snapped taut, like a cable ready to break as the men started to get closer to them. Victor didn’t budge.

"Ten seconds. Give us what we want, or he bleeds out right here."

"Don’t listen, he’s bluffing!" Dante shouted, his voice shaking from the pain.

"Shut up, Dante," Vincent snapped.

He grabbed an orange someone had dropped and shoved it into Dante’s mouth to silence him.

One of Lucero’s men spoke into an earpiece, listening intently. After a few moments he nodded, his jaw tight with frustration.

"Give them a car. We get our man back."

Both of them exhaled at the same time as the officers stepped aside to clear a narrow path toward a waiting patrol car.

Victor dragged Dante forward, making sure no one dared try anything.

Vincent slipped into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and the moment Victor climbed in with Dante, he floored the gas.

Several cars followed to "escort" them out, though everyone inside knew it was surveillance wrapped in procedure.

Victor sat in the back with Dante slumped against him, blood soaking the seat. Dante spat out the orange and glared weakly.

"Fuck you. You’ll regret this."

"Sure," Vincent replied, eyes fixed on the road. "Keep yelling. You’ll still be a joke when this is over."

Victor snorted quietly, trying not to show he found it funny.

"I’m not you, Vincent," Dante snarled. "Biting the hand that feeds you. And you still think you’re a man?"

Vincent’s jaw tightened. He pressed harder on the gas. "They never fed me. I fed myself. I owe them nothing."

Dante let out a bloody grin. "Bastard. I still don’t know why Lucien ever wanted you by his side. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all. You’re just like your mother—"

Victor cut him off by snapping Dante’s head sharply against his shoulder, knocking him unconscious.

"That’s enough out of him. Just drive. We’re almost there."

Vincent nodded, though his chest was tight with anger, frustration, and something heavier he didn’t want to name.

For the first time, he wondered whether he had been wrong all along.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

They finally reached the outer ring of Canelo Cero. Vincent slowed the car to a stop, and Victor opened the passenger door to shove Dante out. The poor bastard hit the gravel with a rough thud.

What caught Vincent off guard was the convoy behind them. None of the cars tried to chase or block them.

They simply stopped, collected Dante’s limp body, loaded him into one of their vehicles, and drove away without a word.

"Why don’t they catch us?" Vincent asked, confusion slipping into his voice.

"Hmph. Maybe they know it’s too late since their supervisor is wounded," Victor replied, settling back against the seat.

"That’s how things work in the army. If your captain falls, you stand down."

"We’re not in the army..." Vincent muttered, eyes returning to the road. "Maybe Lunox is waiting for us on Bianca?"

Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out a dripping wet phone. He clicked his tongue in irritation, but the screen miraculously lit up.

After a moment of scrolling, he said, "My man says Lunox isn’t heading to Sabbia Bianca yet. He’s still in Blackshore."

Vincent whipped his head around, shocked. "You had that this whole time and didn’t use it?! You could’ve called your men to pick us up!"

"And let them die for nothing? Why would I drag my men into this supposed ’easy’ mission?"

Victor clicked his tongue again, louder this time. "Next time, don’t be a bitch. I’m going to sleep. Tell me when we arrive."

"Asshole..." Vincent forced out a long breath, doing his best not to pick a fight he’d lose.

"Hey, don’t sleep yet. I want to know what Diablo is doing in Blackshore."

The only response he got was a deep, unbothered snore from the backseat.

Vincent rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the road. The tension in his chest loosened slowly as the scenery opened up beside them.

The coastline stretched out along the passenger side, the sea greeting him with its cool, salty breath. Seagulls called overhead, circling lazily.

The sky was turning warm shades of orange as evening crept in, casting a soft glow over the water.

It looked almost unreal, like something painted for a world that had nothing to do with blood, bullets, or betrayal.

For the first time in his life, Vincent felt like he could breathe as now he was unchained by anger and burden called Lucero.