Page 9 of Twisted Fate

“What?” I reply tensely.

“Where’s the money?”

“What money?”

“Fuck,” Markus whispers. He staggers closer to the duffle, reaching inside to frantically start pulling out a few pairs of balled up socks. Searching. “It was in here. All of it.”

“What money?” I ask again, my voice strained. “Markus what the hell is going on here?”

He fishes out a navy T-shirt and stares at it like he’d never seen anything so utterly disappointing in his life. “Fifty thousand.”

I gape at him. “Fifty thousand dollars?”

He nods. “Part of what I owe.”

“Only part of it?” My stomach lurches, then I force myself to look at Damian. He looks back at me, his expression ruthlessly neutral. “How much does he owe you?”

Damian’s lips curve to the side. “I don’t discuss business with just any—”

“How much?” I ask again, louder, and more forcefully.

His dark brow rises. “Sit down, Alina.”

“I need to know—”

“Sit the fuck down,” he says again, words as sharp as gunshots. “Now.”

I’d sworn no one would ever boss me around or abuse me after what I’d endured from Enzo. I hadn’t mourned him. His disappearance had frightened the hell out of me, but the thought that he was likely dead didn’t bother me that much. I know admitting that makes me sound like a bad person, but so be it. It’s the truth.

He’d been a bully who used violence to make him feel like a man.

But any fear I’d felt for Enzo paled in comparison to the terror of what only a few words from Damian Russo does to me.

The dark paneled walls of the private gaming room feel like they’re closing in on me. I reluctantly sit down in the ivory upholstered chair next to the open duffle bag that seems to be filled with 100-percent my brother’s clothes and zero-percent cash.

“Explain,” Damian says to Markus.

Markus continues to stare bleakly at the navy T-shirt. “This woman I’ve been with lately…Heather. She took off the other night after a big fight. This has to be her fault. No one else knew about the duffle.”

“Alina did.” Damian’s voice is dangerously soft.

Markus’ head snaps up. “Alina wouldn’t have taken my money.”

I feel Damian’s gaze on me, searing and appraising. I force myself to meet it. I can’t let him know he scares the shit out of me. “I don’t steal.”

“Everyone steals when they have the opportunity.” His voice and expression are cold enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“I don’t,” I say again firmly. Then I look at Markus. “How much do you owe him?”

“Tonight? A hundred.”

I know he’s not talking about a hundred dollars.

“One hundred thousand,” I say it out loud, and he flinches before nodding. I feel sick.

“I’ve been on a winning streak. That’s how I got the fifty large. Tonight I was up for a while…” he begins.

“And then you weren’t.”

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