It is so silent in this basement room of the casino building that you could hear a pin drop. I’m pretty certain everyone can hear the irritating thump-thump of my heart as I stand stock-still and frozen, watching the game being set up in front of me.

There are not a lot of people here. Only a small audience of those who are intrinsically involved. Those of us who are tied to the match. Still, it should be enough.

A couple of the attendees are playing security, meant to be referees and guides, to keep the ball in center court rather than letting the high-strung, high-stakes boundaries crumble and fall. Some of them are here to watch the head of the casino bet big. And still others of us, the less fortunate few, are here because we’re the prize. We’re the trophy. We’re the collective stack of plastic chips meant to be traded for wealth and success and ego.

Once again, I find myself playing the role of some powerful man’s toy. Both of them want me, for similar selfish reasons. At one end of the table sits my current boss, the man who has controlled me like a puppet for years now: Carl. He’s leaned back in his fancy, expensive chair, wearing his fancy, expensive clothes and cologne so thick it burns my nostrils from way over here. There is a smug but rather pinched smile on his broad face, his eyes lidded as though he’s just the calmest, coolest cucumber in the crisper.

But that’s all for show. It’s all part of his ruse. I have been at this industry far long enough to recognize a play when I see one. And this is all on purpose. The way he sits jaunty in his chair. The way he clicks two plastic chips against each other to make an annoying noise that grates on everyone’s nerves, including his opponent.

Speaking of whom, his opponent is no novice to this world, either.

Because Carl is playing against the one man who could possibly threaten his livelihood to such a screaming-high level: Jerry Laskin.

At one end of the table is my boss, and at the other end is Dominick’s boss. The two of them have wildly different approaches to this match. While Carl is trying to play it cool, wearing that smug smirk on his stupid face, Jerry is going for intimidation. And with his heavy jowls, the purplish-gray bags under his drooping black eyes, the perpetual frown lines carved into his rough-looking face, and his overall aura of beastlike predation, he’s pulling it off pretty damn well.

He looks rather like some grizzled old bloodhound, and there’s a haunted look to his features that make everyone uneasy, instantly.

They’re both gambling tonight to win me, as if I were a prize, and not a flesh and blood woman with wants and needs and desires of my own. As if I were simply a stack of chips, meant to be passed around and turned in for cash.

The room we’re all in is impressive, not the grimy, glum, dusty basement one might imagine would exist underneath a casino. It’s fully-finished with glitzy mid-century-modern fixtures and furniture. There’s a chandelier of sparkling Tiffany glass dangling over the center of the card table, serving as the sole source of light for the entire great room. It illuminates the glossy, unscratched mahogany table beneath it, with its elegantly carved table legs and side beveling. On the walls of the room are several evenly-spaced triangular sconces, but they’re unlit. At least I can say one thing positive about our respective bosses: they sure can appreciate what it takes to create a moody ambiance.

And it wasn’t easy to get them here, either. I have always been a very persuasive woman. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been teaching myself and finding new ways to convince people to do what I want. It’s a skill I’ve worked hard to hone and perfect over the years, and it’s saved my ass on multiple occasions. Of course, being an attractive woman certainly helps in that arena. All I have to do is bat my lashes, giggle, twirl my hair, bite my lip, lean in close, whisper, walk with undulating purpose—it’s all part of the same winning package.

Even Carl, who has known me for years, who helped build me into the treacherous competitor I am today, is not immune to my forces. Dominick, too, is very convincing, but not in the same way. I use my wiles, and he uses his strength. I can con, but he can control. Together, we admittedly make one hell of a dynamic and dangerous couple.

And so it was with his assistance that we managed to convince our respective bosses to sit down for a glamorous, winner takes all card game. As it turns out, it’s less difficult to coerce a couple of lifelong thrill-seekers and gamblers to take on a match like this. We knew they would each underestimate their opponent’s skill and desire. Their egos will be their downfalls.

It’s a wild bet, but they agreed to it as a means of resolving their longtime stand-off. As long as they stayed at odds, neither of them could move forward. This card game is designed to break the stalemate. On top of that, it’s Jerry’s best chance of getting the girls—Vanessa and me—and Carl’s only shot at surviving past this debt to the mafia he’s incurred.

Dominick urged Jerry to play under the conditions that if he wins, all of Carl’s girls will gladly and peacefully go to work for him instead. Carl will still have his debts to pay. And if that is the case, then I know Carl will die. The mafia won’t let him live in the red forever. If they can’t exorcise the money out of him, they will make him pay with blood. Perhaps there is a part of me somewhere deep down that might be capable of feeling sorry for him. After all, Carl has been a part of my life for a long, long time now. But when I think of all the terrible things he has done, not only to me, but to others… well, it’s hard to feel anything for him but hatred.

I convinced Carl to play with the promise that if he wins, his debts to the mafia, to Jerry himself, will be cleared.

Dominick and I put my plan into motion, and it’s nearly flawless. Except for something that Carl requested on top of having his debts cleared.

He asked for security footage to be destroyed. He wouldn’t tell me what was on it, but Dominick was able to fill in the blanks. He tracked down the tape. At first, he didn’t even want to tell me what was on it, but that was not an option.

Seeing it for myself was something I wish I could take back, though.

Carl, grabbing Vanessa’s wrist. Pushing her against the wall. Hurting her.

Evidence that he was the one who assaulted Vanessa the night she called me.

She never told me who it was, and now I know why. She was terrified, not because it was some random casino creep, but because it was the man who held her life in his hands. It’s no wonder she went missing right after that. He must have been worried that she was going to tell someone about what he did and had her kidnapped. But if he could do something like that, knowing his rival would have it on tape, then I’m terrified to think of what he’s capable of in private.

There’s no way he’s going to win tonight. Neither of them will.

They just don’t know it yet.

“Where’s the other girl?” Jerry asks, looking at me, and then scanning the crowd for Vanessa. The other woman he’s betting for.

“Don’t worry,” Carl says with a smooth, practiced grin. “Once you win, Hadley and her will be yours. Hadley will see to that,” he promises and hatred fills my veins. But things have to go as planned, so I nod at Jerry.

“She’s laying low, but I know where to find her.”

Jerry scowls a bit at that answer, looking at Carl angrily.

“This is bad business, Carl. I thought we were past that.”

“Well she got spooked after your boys roughed her up.”

“Is that what happened?” Jerry asked, raising a brow, and Carl stares at him, stony as ever. The game hasn’t even started, but they’re both bluffing each other.

All around the room, pacing and stalking like some sharp-eyed jungle predator, is Dominick. He’s keeping watch, playing security to this high-stakes, illegal game. His eyes see everything. His training is absolute, his control over the situation so measured. Nothing will slip past him, and I know it. In fact, I can almost convince myself I’m safe here, having Dom only a few feet away. He’s like a guardian angel for me. Whenever he’s close, I’m damn near invincible. I glance across the room at him and we lock eyes for a moment. There’s not a flicker of a changed expression between us, but I can see in his eyes an agreement. An understanding. Our plan is set in motion, and now all we have to do is watch the game.

A stoic, quiet older man I recognize as one of the dealers from upstairs deals their cards out and steps back. There is utter silence in the room as the game begins. We all watch with rapt attention, learning Carl and Jerry’s respective maneuvers and tactics. Carl continues to smile and play it casual. Jerry remains stone-cold and brooding. With every card laid down, with every reveal, every bluff, a titter of awe and wonder passes through the small crowd watching. I do my best to follow the numbers, counting in my head frantically. It doesn’t matter much who wins, but I need to stay on top of things either way.

The game tilts in the favor of Jerry Laskin.

He’s winning, and that stony look on his face starts to crack, letting a smile sneak through. I stare at him with suspicion, and he catches my eye, a smug look of satisfaction and lust crossing his features. Something is off.

Carl knows it, too. He looks nervous now, for once.

But then, the young security guard comes over and murmurs in the dealer’s ear. The dealer raises a brow, terror seeming to drain all color from his face. The security guard—the enforcer who is sweet on Vanessa—remains stoic. He nods at the dealer, urging him on.

The dealer swallows, and I can see the gears turning in his head, wondering at the consequences of revealing what was just told to him.

“Jerry Laskin has been cheating,” the dealer grumbles, pointing an accusing finger.

Gasps and arguments break out through the room and some of Carl’s guys start to hulk toward Jerry, cracking their knuckles and scowling with rage.

“I knew it,” Carl says, shaking his head and sighing. “I knew you just couldn’t play clean if you wanted to. Dirty, cheating bastard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jerry growls, looking at the young man who just sold him out, hatred in his eyes.

“Come on, give it up!” snaps one of the security guys, looking at Jerry with frustration.

Carl raises a hand, a rather worrying look of intrigue on his face. “No, no. Let’s not cause any trouble over this. My opponent may feel intimidated by me to the point of stooping to cheat. I can understand that. I do have that effect on others sometimes,” he says smugly.

“Oh, can it, you slimy weasel,” grunts Jerry.

“In fact,” Carl says, interrupting his opponent, “as a show of good sportsmanship and confidence, I will continue the game, despite my enemy’s inability to play it straight. But there’s a catch. If you’re going to cheat, then it’s only fair I pull my own trump card, as well.”

There’s no sound as we all wait breathlessly for his next words.

Carl slowly stands up and brushes off his suit, looking at Jerry with a raised eyebrow.

“Not even your dishonest ways will stand up to my secret weapon,” he says, then turns to look at me, to my horror. “You will play my protege. Hadley.”

I’m speechless, staring at my boss in shock. I can’t move. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Come along, sweetheart. The game is still going. Don’t make us wait,” Carl chirps, ushering me into his chair. I can’t refuse. My own life is on the table.

I make brief eye contact with a rather puzzled and concerned Dom as I slide into the seat and scoot up to the table. Jerry looks much more relaxed now than before. It’s easy to see why. Not only is he being allowed to continue playing despite getting caught red-handed cheating, but now he’s facing a woman. I can tell he underestimates me. Immediately. But that’s his downfall. My boss may be a good player, but he’s got nothing on me.

And Jerry learns that very quickly. Maybe he thought watching me for a single game was enough to know me, to be able to head me off, but he’s dead wrong. The game takes a turn. I win hand after hand, eliciting muffled gasps and cheers from the crowd. The smile hovering on Jerry’s face is fading, downturning further with every loss. Before long, I’ve got the game in the bag. Jerry’s skills are dwarfed by mine. Even with the nervousness prickling in my veins, I’m in control here.

“I can’t believe it,” Jerry mutters roughly to himself, eyes bugging.

“You lost,” Carl says gleefully, clapping his hands. “How wonderful! I knew my Hadley would never let me down. You see now what you’ll be missing out on! To think, I might’ve lost my girls to you. Do you understand what an asset the girl is? And she’s still mine. How lovely.”

“You must have cheated somehow,” Jerry shouts, standing up abruptly. His chair is knocked aside as he stands there fuming and panting, his eyes glaring at Carl with venom. His hands ball into fists. “I won’t let you win,” he snaps, reaching for the gun he had stowed at his spine. But before he can even get there, the air is split with a deafening CRACK!

Everyone screams and ducks down, reacting to the gunshot. And when the reverberations calm down just enough, I turn to see Carl recocking his gun with a big grin on his face. On the floor lies the body of Jerry Laskin, his head crowned with a spreading pool of bright red blood. Carl just killed a man! In his own club! In front of a crowd of witnesses.

And, to my horror, Dom is nowhere in sight.

“Well, it’s been fun,” Carl says lightly, running toward the exit with his gun pointed outward. The security guards all fall back with their arms up in surrender, the crowd making a wide berth for him to pass through.

“No!” I shout, feeling our carefully-laid plans slipping through my fingers right in front of me. It can’t end this way. It just can’t. I make a dive for the exit, tripping over Jerry’s corpse and careening into the wall beside the door. Carl gives me a look of pure loathing and hastily grabs me, yanking me to his chest and pressing the cold barrel of his gun against my temple. I can scarcely breathe for fear, my eyes wide and searching for someone to save me.

“Now! You will all stand back and let me leave, and if anyone tries to stop me, I will put a bullet right through this brilliant, beautiful head here,” Carl announces, tapping my temple with the end of the barrel.

I whimper, feeling my legs start to tingle and go numb as mortal terror grips my entire body. This is the end. It has to be. All my clever calculations of risk and rewards, my understanding of psychology and why people act the way they do, my manipulation of events and circumstances all just crumbles away.

I made a bad call.

Slowly, Carl turns to open the door to escape, still gripping me in his arms. I know I have only one last shot. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die fighting, not later on after some extended period as a hostage. So I summon up my bravery and strength and twist my body around just far enough to knee Carl in the balls. He grunts with pain and glares at me, a bright fire of loathing lit up in his eyes.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. This is the end. I know it.

But in a flash of color and sound, something hits him with enough force to make him drop me to the floor. I fall down with a cry of surprise, whipping my head around just in time to see the gun fall out of Carl’s hands. In a split-second reflex, I catch the piece before it hits the ground. Just a moment later, before I can figure out what’s even going on, Carl’s body is the next thing to fall. He lands awkwardly, facedown with his legs all bent, and I know instantaneously that he is dead.

I look up with wide eyes and a trembling chin to see Dom looming over me, his powerful chest rising and falling heavily. He wipes his hands on his pants and spits on the broken body on the floor.