Russian Roulette: One Life Novels & Stories

Tawnie The next morning, I stood in front of the one-way mirror, looking out over my own small world of chaos. High rollers sat at blackjack and poker tables, gambling their lives away while I stood over them, waiting for one of them not to pay up. It had been weeks since the last idiot had been brave enough to try to run out on a 2.3 million loss. I smiled coldly to myself. That had been a lot of fun.

Empty. “Revenge,” she whispered. “By interrupting someone else’s life?” Ònààrà asked, stepping closer. “She doesn’t want you here.” “I don’t care,” Celine snapped. “At least I am interrupting. Not snatching. No one cared when my life was snatched from me.” Each word was filled with rage. With pain. A sudden twitch crossed Evelyn’s face. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes fluttered. Celine was struggling to hold on.

My eyes burned as I silently prayed for my life. Finally, he slides his gaze to me and it’s dead cold. Croix can be mischievous, indifferent even but his eyes are never this dead. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I told you it’s Russian roulette and you agreed to play with me.” He continues putting the bullet then slams it shut. “The game is simple. We’ll ask two questions each and when the other answers, he has to shoot. It might be the last thing we say so lying is prohibited. There are five empty shots and we have four rounds. You go first.”

Instead, he walked to a polished walnut cabinet, unlocked it, and drew out a single object: a sleek, nickel-plated revolver. My breath hitched, but I didn’t move. He opened the cylinder, showed me the six empty chambers. From his pocket, he produced a single, golden bullet. He slid it into a chamber, spun the cylinder with a smooth, practiced flick of his wrist, and snapped it shut. The final, metallic click echoed in the silent room. He placed the gun on the low table between us. “A final gamble,” he said, his voice eerily flat. “My life against your mercy. One chance in six. If the chamber is empty when I pull, you stay another day. We keep playing. If it fires… my interference ends. Perma

My daughter was kidnapped. The ransom was five million. I could barely scrape the money together, but the kidnappers made it clear… A life for a life. Even if they took the money, they would still kill whoever delivered the ransom. With my eyes bloodshot, I spent the entire night smoking to the point that the room was filled with thick smoke. When the cigarette burned to my fingertips, the pain snapped me out of my haze. I jerked my hand and crushed the butt into an ashtray already overflowing with stubs.

As soon as Ruby was done speaking, she took a step forward. This was actually a dangerous gamble for her. She placed her faith in the fact that Serena didn't have the guts to shoot her. Unfortunately, she was wrong. A loud bang sounded the next moment. Serena didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. The bullet ended up embedding itself in Ruby's left thigh. Ruby fell back on the floor while shrieking in pain like a banshee. "Why don't you place another bet this time? Let's see if I have the guts to kill you!" Serena remarked with a smile.

love" when it came to me. I said seriously, "Cynthia. "If you need to go to jail for fifty years, then I'll wait for you and marry you. "If you're sentenced to death... "Then the moment you die, I'll die with you. "In short, if you live, I live. If you die, I die." Cynthia and I looked at each other. We all laughed. We laughed and cried... Miraculously, I tried my best. I found a loophole in the financial allies.

Elena took a deep breath and explained her time on the cruise ship from her perspective. She skipped over how Massimo had gotten drunk and what came after, but otherwise she tried to be as objective as possible. Elena told everyone in the courtroom how it was the other gathered mafia men who had decided that she had to play Russian Roulette—that such a dangerous game had never even been considered by Massimo until they suggested it. She explained that once the gathered dons had made their decision, no one person could object to it.

I cried out. “Too late.” I watched as Mr. Reyes uncorked a gun. I recognized that brand from movies— Russian Roulette. It could never miss. Straight to the target and could make anyone drop dead in less than a milli-second. By now, strings of tears have come out of my eyes. Swollen and puffy, my chest heaved in worry. And then I began to actually worry. What if Jackson was too late? And none of us made it out? What if we all died?

Even the men seem to brace themselves. Roman lifts the gun and points it directly at Paula’s forehead. Then he smiles. A calm, terrifying smile. “Let’s play a game, Paula,” he says softly. “I like games and I hope you do, too. And this one… this one happens to be my favorite.” My breath stops. “I hope you love Russian Roulette.”