Page 6 of Stars in Halo

Which for you will be a breeze.

He took a breath, sucked his teeth and turned to his adoring audience.

‘Ladies got to fly, I’ve somewhere to be.’

They sighed as he rose, looming over them.

He ignored them, knocked back the last of his drink, and strode out.

Across the expansive bar, seeking air and freedom beyond the extensive wooden door.

A hulk, twice as broad as he was tall, appeared, the menace on his jewel-dotted dark face melting away at the sight of Xion.

‘Boss,’ he said. ‘Leaving the premises?’

Xion gave the humongous security guard a chin lift. ‘Heading out for a game, keep an eye on those two. Fact, get them off my back.’

The pair of women were now chasing, coming to a heeled jog after him.

‘I’ll do the necessary,’ Mojo smirked, used to running interference for the Rider.

Mojo was a Ccyth merc who’d subcontracted his services to The Sable Group for the previous two years. To extend his hustle, he moonlighted as The Osirian’s chief bouncer.

He was the best of deterrents, and tonight was no different as he rounded up on the hunting ladies with violence in his eyes. Soon, he’d have them tucked under each arm as he escorted out the back door.

‘Sante. I owe you.’

Xion clapped a hand on the man’s meaty shoulder the size of his thigh and stepped past him into the night.

A Halo of Mystery

Above The Osirian, nestled in one of the luxurious upper floors of Sable HQ, was a members-only invite-only den.

A pinnacle of casino-playing opulence, the luxe gaming salon was set in lavish surroundings, adorned with opulent decor and furnishings, exquisite art pieces, and captivating floral arrangements.

A dedicated concierge service catered to one’s every need as they lost themselves in high-stakes wagering at exclusive tables.

The place lured Pegasi’s System’s well-heeled affluent rollers, the wealthiest and most skilled card sharks, where players were pampered in a private and intimate setting.

It offered an extensive selection of games and slot machines, catering to all playing preferences, where tournaments delivered an intense and suspenseful atmosphere.

Its gilded ornate table attracted the finest participants with its colossal buy-in and staggering half-million-schill entry fee. Not to mention that a significant portion of the astronomical buy-ins was donated to charitable causes determined by the Sable Group.

Even the cards were ostentatious. They were printed with metallic ink on high-quality casino-grade stock paper, embossed with gold and silver foil, and encrusted with diamond facets.

Xion’s duty was to ensure that no one dared nick them. Nor the growing stash of gems and precious stones at the centre of the mesa that composed the payers’ collateral.

The Rider settled in as the clinking of chips, the rustle of notes, and the murmurs of calculated bets filled the room, interrupted by the occasional victorious exclamation or tense silence.

‘We waiting for anyone?’

‘One more,’ came Mirage’s drawl as the dealer.

The air was pungent with the aroma of cigar smoke and the lingering scent of expensive whisky.

The heady mixture made Xion’s head swim and his stomach churn.

He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it didn’t help that the room reeked of the players’ sweat. Their hands trembled, their glassware-clutching fingertips slick with nerves.

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