Page 8 of Twisted Fate

“Come on.” Markus’s voice is thin and reedy now. “She’s not part of this.”

One glance at Damian tells me my chance for escape tonight has come and gone. I’d blown a clean getaway.

“What the hell is going on here?” I ask.

“We’re in the middle of a poker game,” Damian says, and the edge of a smile turns up the corner of his mouth. It’s a cruel smile.

Something inside of me goes cold.

I’ve heard about Damian Russo’s infamous poker games. Again, that handy demon analogy fits nicely here. Rumor has it that he likes to win at any cost. That he has a taste for souls. Whatever someone cared about the most in this world, that was what he wanted to bet for. What he wanted to take. There’d been a couple of really drunk guys at the Emerald just last night talking about a friend of a friend that Damian Russo had destroyed.

Damn it, Markus, I think. How the hell did you get into this mess with someone like him?

“We’re leaving,” I say aloud as confidently as I can. “I need my brother’s help with something super important. Come on Markus. Let’s go.”

“But we’re not finished yet,” Damian replies, before my brother can say anything. “Right, Markus?”

“Right,” Markus replies with a mix of pain and regret in his voice.

“Then let’s get on with it.” Damian holds the door open and waits until Markus, without another glance at me, goes inside. Then Damian nods at me. “Join us.”

“I’d really rather not—”

“I insist.”

He says it smoothly, almost pleasantly. But this is not a negotiation. My heart pounds as I glance over my shoulder at the exit back to the main casino floor. Both of the musclebound guards are now standing on this side of the door, silently watching us.

“You need to know something about me, Alina,” Damian says softly.

I hate that the sound of my name on his tongue makes things twist and tighten inside of me. “What’s that?”

His gaze narrows. “I’m a man who expects to be obeyed.”

I add that to my small dossier on Damian Russo.

Expects to be obeyed.

Son of Salvatore Russo, whose recent murder has been all over the news.

Brother of Leonardo Russo, the newly minted crime boss currently running Las Vegas.

A demon with a heart as black as his eyes, one who’s trapped Markus in a game that I know might mean the difference between life and death.

But that isn’t all I know.

I also know I’ll do anything it takes to save my brother.

5

Alina

“Put that on the table,” Damian instructs, nodding at the duffle bag. Markus tosses it on the table. Two thugs stand off to one side. Damian gestures toward one of them, who draws closer, unzips the bag, and spreads it open.

Damian cocks his head. “Markus?”

I glance at my brother to see that his face has turned ghostly white.

“Alina?” My name is a strangled sound at the back of his throat.

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