Hundred Million Bounty on the Billionaire’s Wife Chapter 05

Hundred Million Bounty on the Billionaire’s Wife Chapter 05

Grace’s POV 

The next day, I sit at the bar nursing a drink. Behind my sunglasses, I scan the room. A few guests are scattered around, keeping their distance. 

I think about the impossible task ahead. Arthur’s backing? Easy. Finding a High Table member willing to piss off Damien for an assassin? 

Fantasy. 

Heavy footsteps echo from the entrance. I don’t turn, my hand drifts to my weapon. 

but my In the bar mirror, I watch several men walk in. The 

guy in front catches my attention immediately. Half his face is scar tissue. His left eye’s covered by a patch. Burn marks run all the way down to his chin and neck 

The men behind him bear similar scars, like theycrawled out of hell itself, 

“Give us your best whiskey.” The scarred man approaches the bar, his voice hoarse. 

He sits right next to me. Other guests drift away. 

Within minutes, it’s just me and these men. 

“Swans.” The scarred man speaks in a low voice. 

Been a while.” 

Chapter 5 

I don’t look at him. “Don’t know you.” 

“Course not.” He laughs. “Two years ago, that explosion… you thought everyone died, right?” 

I freeze, turn to face him. 

“Name’s Kyle. Two years ago, I was in that building.” 

“So you’re here for revenge?” 

“Revenge? Nah.” He removes the eyepatch, revealing an empty socket. “I’m here to thank you. For turning me into this.” 

His crew’s already formed a semicircle, cutting off escape routes. 

Two years ago, I thought everyone had died. Now, seeing the hatred in his remaining eye, I know he wishes he had. 

“Funny thing is,” Kyle signals for another drink, ” Damien’s on the High Table now. And you? Just hiding behind some rich boy’s money, playing housewife.” 

“Watch your mouth.” 

“We breaking any rules? Just sitting here, drinking, talking. Nothing wrong with that.” 

These bastards won’t attack directly. They’re Damien‘ 

suicide squad, sent to make me break the hotel’s sacred law. Once I strike first, they can act without consequence. 

Outside these walls, thousands of assassins wait. But in here, just these few. 

I glance at Arthur. He watches us too, slowly shaking his head, telling me to stay calm. 

These men just stare. No words, no movement, just that look. 

I close my eyes, laugh quietly. When I open them, I drain the whiskey and stand. 

I grab the empty glass. My other hand pulls a gold doin from my pocket, tosses it high. It hits the marble with a sharp ring. 

The metallic sound echoes in the quiet. 

“Since you wanna die that bad, let me help you out.” 

I smash the whiskey glass into Kyle’s scarred face. Glass explodes as I pull my knife. 

“Bitch! Kill her!” Kyle roars, blood streaming from the fresh wound, 

The fight erupts around the bar. I weave between stools and the counter, using them as cover. 

One man swings a blade. I slide under and drag my knife across his throat. 

Kyle charges from behind, knife aimed at my spine. I twist away, but not fast enough. The blade cuts across my left arm, leaving a line of blood. 

Another guy tries to smash a bottle over my head, I dodge, drive my elbow into his gut, then my knife into his ribs. 

I keep dodging, attacking, moving. Can’t let them surround me. 

I end the second attacker with one thrust through the heart, then turn to face Kyle. He pulls a gun, barrel aimed at my chest. 

I see it happening. Too far to stop it. My knife’s still buried in his man’s chest. Kyle’s finger’s already on the trigger. 

Just as he’s about to fire, a young woman appears behind him. She casually sticks out her foot and catches Kyle’s ankle, sending him stumbling sideways. 

The bullet goes wide, shatters bottles behind the bar. 

I leap forward, drive the knife into Kyle’s heart. 

“Can’t… be…” He gasps, staring at the blade in his chest. His remaining eye dims, and he drops, 

I stand there breathing hard, surrounded by bodies and blood. I turn to the woman who just saved my life. 

“Thank you… who are you?” 

“Elena. Elena Morgan.” She says it calmly, like she didn’t just witness a massacre. 

“Morgan?” 

“My mom mentioned you before she died. Said if I ever got the chance, I should help you.” 

“You’re Olivia Morgan’s daughter?” 

Elena smiles and nods. “Yeah.” 

Then she just walks off like nothing happened. 

Olivia Morgan! High Table matriarch! She once gave me a piece of parchment with her family seal and said it might help me someday. 

Arthur approaches, his face grim as he surveys the carnage. “Grace… you know what you just did?” 

“I know. But you and I both know it was them or me.” 

“No business may be conducted on Continental grounds. That’s our most sacred rule.” 

He looks at the other guests emerging from hiding, barely controlled greed flickering in their eyes. 

Arthur closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens them. When he speaks, his voice carries through the entire hall. 

“Swans has violated Continental Hotel rules. The Excommunicado begins now. You have four hours.” 

The moment those words leave his mouth, the atmosphere in the hotel completely shifts. 

People who’d been cowering in corners suddenly straighten up. Some head for the exits, probably to get weapons. Others just stare at me with naked, hungry eyes.