3

LEONE My eyes scan the floor below, looking for the woman responsible for ripping me off. She’s unaware that her fate is now in my hands, an undesirable position to be sure. The casino floor below us buzzes with the electric thrum of excitement and desperation, the sounds of hopes and dreams being kindled or crushed beneath the relentless turn of cards and roll of the dice. I watch the scene unfold with detached amusement from my vantage point on the mezzanine. Their misfortune lines my pockets. The neon lights cast an eerie glow on the players below. Every face tells a unique story, be it tragic or comedic. They are nothing, mere ants, wasting their lives gambling for a chance to change their lives, yet they won’t find it here. The odds never favor them; I’d be out of business if they were. The odds, cruelly skewed, ensure my empire’s survival, a truth they willingly blind themselves to in their pursuit of fortune. Rule One: abandon all hope at the door. This is not a place of triumphs; it’s a graveyard of dreams, where my house preys upon the naive and the desperate. Loaded dice; the cards marked, and the slots are a siren song leading to a financial shipwreck. The thrill of the risk and the adrenaline of the near-win are the hooks that sink deep into their souls, dragging them back time and time again. Rule Two: Recognize the illusion of the big win. It’s a mirage in the desert of despair, an oasis that vanishes upon approach. The illusion of the big win is the dealer’s best trick. It’s a phantom, a cruel joke played upon those foolish enough to believe in fairy tales. The cycle is merciless; loss breeds desperation, leading them back into my clutches. In this world, addiction wears the pretty smiles of the girls dealing and is housed on smooth felt tables. It whispers sweet nothings of luck and fate into the ears of the damned, seducing them into believing that just one more roll. One more hand and one more spin will be their salvation. But in this game, the only salvation lies in walking away, a feat few have the strength to achieve. Rule Three: The house always wins; its foundations are built on broken dreams and empty wallets. In this game, money, lives, relationships, and futures are gambled away. Gambling here is more than a game—it’s a chasm few can escape. Here, lives are not just wagered; they’re devoured, piece by piece, until nothing remains but the hollow shell of a once-hopeful soul. This is my kingdom of despair, where hope is slaughtered under Lady Luck’s cold, unfeeling gaze. The casino is more than a den of vice—it’s a world where hope and despair are currency; in gambling, the only winner is the one who holds the deck. Milo sidles up to me, leaning casually against the railing. His usually impassive face betrays a hint of tension as he looks out over the casino floor. “How was your meeting with your father?” Milo asks, and I glare at the floor below. “As always, he wants me to marry. The establishment’s shareholders want a family man in charge.” “I thought you were buying it?” Milo asks. “They don’t want to let go of the Red Lantern. Verdigris owed debt, so they had no choice. Red Lantern, the Mexicans want to make it into a family-safe establishment; they’ve agreed to go 50/50 but are concerned about the optics of my bachelor persona” Milo sighs. We planned to buy the entire strip, but my father believed I needed to remain on the good side of the Mexican Cartel. The last thing we need here is a war. “Since when is your father worried about the Mexican Cartel?” Milo asks. “He isn’t, but we may need them if things go south with the Russians, and right now, my father has the governor breathing down his neck,” I tell him. “So, why does that matter? The governor is in your pocket,” Milo states with a shrug. “Yes, but he said he can’t afford cartel wars with the upcoming election.” “So, what are you going to do? Marry to please the cartel?” “Definitely not for them. But I need to figure something out. My brother has agreed to marry Santos’ daughter to strengthen alliances. I know he’s doing that because he hopes to get his hands on that club,” I tell him. “I can’t believe your father still tolerates him after everything with Lyd…” I glare at Milo. I don’t need the reminder of my ex-wife and what he took from me. Milo knows better than to mention her name, so I’m surprised at his slip of the tongue. Changing the subject, I motion toward the card dealer on the floor below, whom I’ve been watching since I left the meeting with my father. “You’re positive it’s her?” I ask, my voice a low rumble. His gaze goes to where Fallon deals cards with grace and precision, which belies the tension simmering beneath her calm exterior. “Positive,” he confirms, not taking his eyes off the girl. “It was her.” Milo lets out a heavy sigh, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing between us. “You know what this means?” I ask, although it’s more a statement than a question. His fascination with her is a curious thing, uncharacteristic of a man of his stature. Yet, this girl has had his attention unbeknownst to her for five years. Despite this, he still came to me when he caught her cheating Verdigris. She may have stolen his attention, but I hold his loyalty, and soon, I’ll hold her life in my hands. Milo knows this, but I must be sure this won’t break him. I worry it will, the fact is that he could easily kidnap and bend her to his will. But he hasn’t disclosed much about his obsession. Instead, he has watched her from the shadows, through the cameras, for five years and done nothing.