I’m the reason they’re celebrating. I did everything they asked of me. I won, I smiled, I played their game. I gave them everything. Every hand. Every fake laugh. Every miserable minute of this night has been me performing like a trained puppet just to keep them happy. And for what? I still don’t know how this ends. I don’t know if I’m walking out of here alive or if they’ll decide I’ve outlived my usefulness. All I know is that they’re already counting their fortune while I’m drowning in fear and anger. What if they never give me my life back?
I want to scream, to tear the room apart, to make them understand what they’ve done. No matter what, I have to make sure they give back Delilah’s money.
A figure steps up beside me, close enough for her voice to barely register above the noise. "Hey."
I glance sideways. It’s Neve—the waitress again. Her dark eyes scan my face, serious enough to make my skin prickle. “Please,” she says, keeping her voice low, “don’t fuck them over.”
“Excuse me?” I gasp.
“Damian,” she says, the name coming out quiet, like it would cost her something if anyone hears. “He’s going to lose it if this all goes south. They don’t deserve this.”
"I’m not trying to screw anyone over," I say quickly. “I’m trying to get the money back to them. That’s why I’m still at that damn table. If I win, Joel and Vick will get what they want. Damian gets his mother’s money back.”I take a shaky breath.“Everyone gets what they want.”
Neve doesn’t respond right away. She shifts, eyes locking on mine. “Yeah?” she says softly. “So…you trust them?” Her chin nods toward Joel and Vick.
I don’t answer.
Neve leans in a little closer. “If you’re playing both sides, fine. I get it. But if you think for a second Joel is going to let you walk away once you give him what he wants, you’re a fool.”
I swallow. Hard. “I’m not playing any sides,” I hiss. “I didn’t want any of this.”
She straightens, smoothing down her uniform. “Damian’s been through enough. Please don’t hurt him.”
I swallow past the knot in my throat as Neve turns away and disappears into the crowd.
Across the room, Vick downs the last of his drink, smoke curling around his face. Joel sucks at his cigar by a big open window. Taylor throws her head back, laughing hard at something he says.
If I keep winning, Joel won’t kill me. He’ll want to keep me. Neve is right, isn’t she? Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I have to do something. I can’t go back to that table and win them any more money, but do I have enough to cover what was taken from Delilah?
I set my empty plate down and track Joel and Taylor as they leave the viewing room, disappearing down a long hallway. Where the hell are they going?
I hesitate. Just for a second. Then I follow.
I keep a few paces behind, staying close to the wall, slipping past clusters of players and dealers and servers who don’t even look at me. The hallway bends, and I catch the tail end of Joel’s voice, low and serious. “I can’t believe she’s really that good,” he says. “It would be a shame if I have to kill that kind of talent.”
I stop moving and listen.
“Right after the games end, we take care of Vick, and the Cross boys, you got it? We bury them all.”
The words knock the air out of my lungs.
“And we get to keep all the money for ourselves, right?” Taylor asks. The sound of wet kissing starts. “We are going to be so fucking rich,” she purrs.
“Clay’s going to be very happy when he gets out.”
“Can I buy something tonight?” she says breathily.
“Maybe. Take this off first,” Joel rumbles.
“Oh, right here? Now?” Taylor starts giggling. “Daddy like?” she giggles. Oh, gross.
I press myself tighter to the wall, the sound of blood rushing in my ears. No one is getting out of this alive. They are going to take the money and burn every single loose end behind them. My knees nearly buckle, my hand catching the edge of a small table to stay upright. Think. Think. What the fuck can I do? How long do I have until they finish whatever the hell they’re doing in there?
Do I go for Vick’s bag—take it and run before they notice it’s missing?
My head starts to pound, hard and fast. My pulse is in my throat. I glance back down the hallway. No one’s seen me.
I turn and push myself back into the playing area, searching for Neve. She’s near the bar, tray in hand, tightly smiling with a couple of men. She sees me approaching and arches a brow.
