CHAPTER 211

Don Frago gripped the steering wheel of his Bugatti Veyron with white-knuckled intensity as he sped through the quiet streets of the city.

His heart pounded erratically in his chest, and a sheen of sweat coated his brow despite the chill of the night air.

Beside him, his remaining few men sat in tense silence, with their eyes darting nervously to the rearview mirror as if expecting to see the flashing lights of law enforcement in pursuit.

The events at the Fisticuffs Arena had left them shaken and on edge, their once ironclad confidence was shattered by the sudden turn of events.

As they approached his luxurious home, Don Frago's grip on the steering wheel tightened even further.

He knew that his life was in danger, that the chaos at the arena would inevitably draw the attention of law enforcement to his residence, and he dreaded the inevitable fallout that would follow.

With a screech of tires, Don Frago brought the Bugatti to a sudden halt outside his opulent mansion.

Without a
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