65
~Bella's POV
The ride back to the brothel was quiet. Alex's fingers drummed lightly against the steering wheel as he navigated the dimly lit streets. I stared out the window, watching the flickering neon signs blur past. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—questions about who Alex really was, why those men had pleaded with him, and why he had chosen to help me at all.
We pulled up in front of the brothel, the red glow of the entrance lights washing over the car's sleek hood. Alex reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash. Without a word, he extended it to me.
I hesitated. "Alex, I…"
"Take it," he said firmly, pushing it into my hand. "And don't argue."
I swallowed hard, staring at the money. It was more than he gave me the last time. My fingers clenched around it as I met his gaze.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked softly.
He smirked, his blue eyes glinting under the streetlights. "Let's just say I don't like seeing people being treated like trash."
