The MILFs Club: Special Delivery for my Aunt

Chapter 228: Chapter 228: Collateral Damage

Only fifteen minutes had passed since the corporate defector’s sedan had crashed into the concrete wall. Alexander was already back inside the quiet cabin of the silver Tahoe, cruising smoothly along the outer rings of the commercial district.

"Well, that was fast," muttered Alexander, glancing at the dashboard clock. "Let’s squeeze in one more before heading to the facility."

He pulled up the secure TMC interface on his phone once more, his fingers rapidly filtering the low-tier active board. His eyes scanned past the standard courier runs and settled on a contract marked with a slightly higher payout $25,000 USD.

> Contract Type: High-Risk Personal Escort / Retaliation

> Objective: "Vengeance" — Provide immediate security for the contractor during a retaliation event involving an infidelity dispute.

> Operational Warning: High probability of armed escalation. Contractor is emotionally volatile. Heavy armaments recommended.

Alexander tapped the screen to officially accept the contract. The system immediately assigned him a temporary operational tracker and updated his file. It seemed straightforward enough, though the danger warning suggested the cheating spouse or the lover wasn’t a standard civilian.

He followed the real-time GPS into a dim, poorly lit alleyway situated right behind a mid-tier, hourly rate motel on the edge of the industrial sector. He killed the engine, checked his sidearm, and stepped out into the damp night air.

Huddled near a row of heavy industrial waste bins was a young woman, her shoulders shaking violently as she wept into her hands. Hearing the heavy crunch of Alexander’s boots against the gravel, she snapped her head up in absolute terror.

"I’m Agent 815," said Alexander, his voice low and flat as he stepped into the dim light of the alley. "You requested immediate extraction and security?"

The woman let out a ragged, trembling gasp, wiping the tears from her flushed face as she looked at his massive, imposing frame. "Oh, thank god... thank the heavens you actually came. I thought—I thought nobody would accept my emergency request on such short notice. Thank you so much for coming."

She took a sharp, shaky breath to steady her voice, her eyes darting toward the rear entrance of the motel structure.

"My husband... he’s inside right now with his lover," whispered the woman, her voice suddenly hardening with a toxic layer of pure, bitter hatred. "They’re up on the second floor. Room 208. I need you to get me inside, and you need to make sure nobody stops me from doing what I came here to do."

"Lead the way," said Alexander, gesturing toward the back entrance with a cold, indifferent nod. "Just do what you have to do. I’ll make sure nobody touches you."

The woman wiped her face one last time, her expression twisting into a mask of pure vindication as she marched inside, with Alexander following a single pace behind her. They burst into the narrow, dimly lit reception area, the floors smelling heavily of cheap bleach.

The night clerk, a scrawny kid wearing an oversized vest, bolted upright behind the bulletproof glass counter. "Hey! Hey, you can’t go back there without checking in!" he shouted, his hand instinctively reaching toward the landline phone.

Alexander took a single step forward, his frame eclipsing the light in the small lobby. He rested his hand casually on the grip of the pistol tucked into his waistband, his dead eyes locking onto the kid through the glass. "Get under the desk and stay down," Alexander said, his voice a freezing rumble. "I don’t like hurting innocent people on a weekend. Don’t make me change my mind."

The clerk took one look at Alexander’s face, swallowed hard, and slowly raised his hands. Recognizing a threat when he saw one, he chose not to gamble with his life. He slid out of sight beneath the counter, his trembling finger frantically smashing the silent panic button mounted under the desk.

Alexander didn’t care. He signaled the woman, and they took the concrete stairs two at a time up to the second floor. The hallway was narrow, carpeted in a hideous pattern, and echoed with the muffled sounds of television sets.

They reached the door labeled 208.

"Step back, miss," Alexander murmured.

The woman moved aside, wrapping her arms around herself. Alexander didn’t bother checking the handle. He planted the heavy heel of his boot right next to the lock cylinder with an explosive surge of force. The cheap wooden frame shattered with a deafening CRACK, the door flying inward and slamming violently against the drywall.

Inside the cramped, dimly lit room, the air was thick with the scent of cheap cologne and sweat. A heavily tattooed man was on the bed, positioned directly behind a blonde woman in a primal stance, her loud groans cutting off into a horrified shriek as the door splintered.

The man scrambled backward, frantically yanking the bedsheets over his waist as he recognized his wife standing in the threshold next to a giant in a leather jacket.

"What the fuck is the meaning of this?!" the husband roared, his face flushing an angry, violent purple as he jumped off the mattress, entirely unbothered by his own nudity. "Are you insane, Sarah?! Who the hell is this guy?! You break into my goddamn room with a fucking thug?!"

"You miserable, cheating piece of shit!" Sarah screamed back, her voice cracking as she tried to charge past Alexander, her fingernails clawing at the air. "I knew it! I knew you were using the corporate expense account to fuck this bitch!"

"Get the fuck out of here before I personally bury both of you!" the husband yelled, his chest heaving as he reached toward the nightstand drawer, his eyes darting between his sobbing wife and Alexander’s unmoving silhouette. "You think you can humiliate me like this?! You’re dead, Sarah! You hear me?! You’re fucking finished in this city!"

"You think I give a single fuck about your hollow threats anymore?!" Sarah shrieked back, her face contorting into a mask of venom as she pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at his face. "You’re nothing but a pathetic, miserable try-hard! You think you’re the only one who can play these games?! You think you can treat me like garbage just because you stumbled into a little bit of corporate money, you bastard?! Well, let me tell you something, you tiny-dick piece of shit—your money won’t save you tonight..!!"