I’m scanning the floor.
The shortest route back to the administrative corridor cuts us past a bank of blackjack tables and the edge of the high-limit perimeter. Too open for my taste, but better than doubling back through the main artery of the floor where the crowd is thicker and the lines are messier.
That itching is back between my shoulder blades, and I want to get Caterina off the floor as soon as possible.
We are halfway to the doors when a voice rises, louder than the rest, cutting across the room. A chair scrapes hard across the floor at a blackjack table two tables away from us. The dealer flinches backward. Then another voice snaps up to meet the first.
I turn my head just in time to see one man lunge half out of his chair and shove another in the shoulder. The second man stumbles, catches himself against the rail, and comes back swinging.
The floor erupts.
I reach for Caterina, but not fast enough. She has already taken off in the direction of the table, calling for security.
“Caterina,” I snap, already moving in her direction.
Another woman gasps. Chips scatter. Somebody backs away too quickly and blocks my path to Caterina.
Instinct has me reaching for my weapon, but I need to get to Caterina first. She's too far away, and there is now more than one person between us.
The fight gets louder as one of the men crashes into the edge of the blackjack table hard enough to knock it sideways.
The other man follows. And in the one instant before he reaches down for the other man who has fallen to the floor, I see his eyes pivot.
So quickly, it's almost invisible.
Quickly, they land on Caterina and then back to the man on the floor.
Everything in me goes cold.
That look was too fast, too clean, too aware.
Not panic. Not random spillover.
Assessment.
“Down!” I bark, my voice cracking across the noise as I shove through the bodies between us.
I’m at Caterina's side in an instant, my hand wrapping around her upper arm.
“Wha—” she starts, eyes wide as I start dragging her across the floor, using my body to shield hers. Her eyes widen even more when she notices the gun in my other hand. “Are you crazy? What are you— Let me go!”
I don't bother answering.
Behind us, the sound of the fight changes—less like two drunk idiots swinging, more like intentional movement. In our direction.
I don’t look back yet. Not until I’ve got her at a safe distance.
“Move,” I order. The word comes out flat and hard enough to cut through even her outrage.
I continue hauling her across the floor quickly, weaving through tables efficiently.
She stumbles once on her heels, catches herself, and digs in for half a second out of pure instinct.
“Adrian—”
She obviously knows by now that something is going on, but this isn't the time for questions.
I feel more than hear the fast approaching behind us. In the chaos left behind by their fight, there are people running all over the casino, grabbing chips, fighting, running around. It's pure chaos. And even if security were somehow aware of what was going on, they've got their hands full.
