The decision should be a no-brainer. Instead, it presses against my chest, like a weight that won’t settle. My foot stays on the brake, the engine idling while my pulse ticks too fast for the calm I’m fighting to maintain.
It isn’t regret that holds me here. It’s the image of her where I left her. Upright. Watching. Not afraid enough to beg, not foolish enough to pretend she doesn’t understand what’s happening. She studies me like she’s filing me away, deciding what kind of man I am before I’ve decided it myself.
That’s the problem.
Letting her go would be clean if she were just another piece on the board. Someone interchangeable. She isn’t, and the fact that my mind keeps circling that distinction irritates me more than it should.
Everything else in my life is breaking apart. My father is dead, men I trusted are feeding information to the wrong people, and now there’s a larger question hanging over everything about whether the Duvalls are the ones steering this from a distance.
Right now, Coco is the only thing that stills the noise. That alone should be reason enough to walk away.
She doesn’t deserve this. And I don’t have the space to untangle what’s tying me to her.
Still, something keeps my foot on the brake.
Wells flagged a thread earlier regarding the tables, according to Keller. A timing anomaly in chip flow that lined up too cleanly with security shift changes. It was probably nothing, but it was enough to put Keller on edge. He called me before the doors opened to run it by me.
“With the prince here,” he’d said, “I’m not taking chances.”
He didn’t ask me to come. He wouldn’t because this is his domain. My father put him in charge of the tables last year.
Keller runs this operation twice a week with West at his side, both of them dressed sharply, hair slicked back, eyes always moving. Keller was born to read people, know their tells, their habits. Their breaking points.
This place is his responsibility completely, especially now that Dad is gone.
It’s also one of our largest income streams and one of the ways our influence stays intact. If something goes wrong here, it echoes. My father used to step in when it mattered.
Now that weight sits with me.
Prince Khalid Al-Sharif is already inside. He’s Saudi royalty, flies in on his jet once a month. He has endlessmoney and a taste for high-stakes poker that borders on compulsion.
His presence alone raises the risk. Not just financially, but reputationally. In this world, the two are inseparable.
I step out of the car, the night air cool and damp against my skin. I pull the Sig from under the dash and position it in my back waistband before heading toward the steel door and clock the Glock in my boot holster. You can never be too prepared.
Inside, the contrast is immediate.
The room hums, chips clink, and voices murmur. Laughter rises and falls.
Crystal chandeliers throw warm light across velvet tables, dark wood, and muted gold accents. It’s indulgent without being loud. Designed to reassure the people who come here that nothing ugly can touch them.
At one table, an oil executive slouches with a glass of whiskey. At another, a tech billionaire studies his cards like they owe him something.
Prince Khalid sits farther in with a cigar balanced between his fingers. His eyes are detached and watchful. Two bodyguards flank him with broad shoulders and tailored suits, standing still with their hands clasped in front of them. I can see the outlines of weapons holstered at their chests.
Keller stands near the bar with West, scotch in hand. He’s relaxed at a glance, but I can tell he’s alert beneath it. The message is intentional. This place may cater to the elite, but it’s ours.
I move through the room, ignoring the looks that follow. Most of them don’t know who I am, and they don’t need to.
Keller catches my eye and tips his chin.
I’m halfway to him when the steel door behind me slams open.
The first gunshot splits the air. Then another.
Screams erupt as tables overturn and glass shatters. Five men rush in, faces masked, weapons up. They spread out with practiced precision, shouting commands as panic tears through the room.
“Everyone down! Now!”
