CHAPTER 2: Uninvited Guests.

DAMIEN’S POV

“Please, Don. I swear I did not betray you.”

Marco's voice shakes so badly that every word seems to scrape its way out of his throat, but I keep the gun resting loosely against my thigh while I study the man kneeling on the concrete floor of my casino.

Blood has dried beneath his nose, one eye is already swelling shut, and his expensive shirt is ruined from where my men questioned him. He keeps looking at the gun as though staring at it long enough might convince me to put it away. It won't.

“You sold my shipment route,” I say, my eyes steady on him.

“I didn't. I swear to you.” His voice trembles.

“You sold my shipment route, Marco.”

“Don... I was forced to do it.”

“By whom?”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I lean back in my chair and watch the hesitation settle between us.

That is the thing about lying to me. Most people think the lie is the dangerous part, but it isn't. The dangerous part is after I ask a question and they need too much time to answer it.

“I had debts,” he finally says through sobs. “They threatened my family.”

“You should have come to me.”

“I was afraid. I was an idiot. I am sorry.”

“No.” I scoffed. “You should have been more afraid of the men you betrayed.”

His face crumples.

“Please, Don. I have two children. You know I have two children. I can pay you back. I can give you names, money, whatever you want.”

“You already gave them something more valuable than money.”

He stares at me, his face pale. I lean forward, my voice low but firm. “My route.”

His eyes trembles, fear seeping in.“I…I can fix it.”

“You can't fix this one.” I stand, and Marco immediately begins shaking his head.

“Please, Don. Boss, I am sorry.”

I raise the gun to his head.

“Don, please!!”

I pull the trigger. The shot cracks through the room, and Marco's body drops heavily onto the floor.

Warm blood spatters my cheek. For a moment, I simply stare at him, then one of my men steps forward and holds out a folded white cloth.

I wipe the blood from my face and glance toward the body. “Get him out.”

Two men move immediately. Another reaches for the door, but before he can touch it, a burst of gunfire erupts from somewhere above us.

The walls tremble. Someone screams, then another shot tears through the ceiling. I look toward the stairs.

“What the hell is happening?”

“Don, we're under attack.”

I take the gun from the table instinctively.

“Then stop standing here and kill them.”

I walk upstairs as the casino erupts around me. Chairs scrape across marble, glass shatters beneath running feet, and the music that had been blaring a few minutes ago suddenly cuts off in the middle of the song while armed men flood through the eastern entrance.

My security team returns fire. One attacker steps through the smoke with his weapon raised, and I shoot him before he gets a chance to aim.

Another man comes from behind him, and I put a bullet through his shoulder before finishing him with a second shot. The third sees me and runs. I follow him through the service corridor.

He reaches the back exit before I catch him, and I grab the back of his jacket hard enough to slam him against the wall.

“Who sent you?” My voice thunders.

He laughs through blood. “You think killing me changes anything?”

“Not really.” I press the barrel beneath his jaw. “It just means I have one less person to ask.”

His smile disappears. “They know where you're going next.”

I watch his face carefully. He is telling the truth, that means someone inside my organization sold us out.

I pull the trigger. His body slides down the wall, I step over him and walk outside.

My driver brings the car around.

“Go!”

The engine roars as the car shoots forward, the tires screeching against the road. We tear through the city, with two black SUVs appearing behind us less than a minute later.

“They're gaining on us,” my driver says.

“Keep your eyes on the road. Don't lose your focus.”

A bullet punches through the rear window. Glass sprays across the seats, and my driver curses as he swerves around a taxi.

I check the magazine in my gun. I should be thinking about the leak, I should be thinking about which one of my men is going to disappear before sunrise.

Instead, I am thinking about the fact that someone has managed to drive me out of my own casino. I click my tongue, the thought irritating me.

“Take the next left,” I say, adjusting my jacket.

“There are too many people on that road.”

“Left, now.”

He turns.

I see the flower shop ahead, warm lights spilling through the windows, and a woman moving somewhere inside. Perfect.

I open the door before the car stops. I move fast, keeping my head low as I barge into the shop, the bell above the flower shop ringing when I push through it.

I don't look at the woman at first. She is standing near the back, half-hidden beneath a row of hanging plants, and the light doesn't reach her face clearly enough for me to see who she is.

That is exactly what I need. I cross the shop quickly, and she turns toward me.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is sharp and urgent.

I catch her wrist before she can finish. She gasps, eye trembling in fear, she tries to pull away.

“Shh,” I say, pressing a finger against my lips. “Don't scream.”