Page 16 of Mine

Like a flash of lightning, Astor leaps over the poker table.

I scream.

The men rush the platform, guns drawn.

Carlos lunges backward, but instead of attacking him, Astor grabs me, whirls me around, and yanks me to him while pulling a knife from his sock.

When he presses the blade to my throat, everyone freezes. I’m too stunned to breathe.

Carlos signals his men to stand down.

The guards discontinue their advance but keep their pistols pointed at Astor’s head—and me, for that matter.

“You will regret this, Carlos. I promise you that.” Astor’s eerily calm voice vibrates through his hard chest, where he has me pinned. “By the time I’m done with you, you will wish you were dead.”

“Let her go, Astor,” Carlos growls. “She’s not part of this.”

“Neither was my wife.”

His wife.

Astor jerks me into movement and begins dragging me across the room. I stumble in my heels, my knees giving out from both imbalance and fear. My eyes go wild, frantically looking back and forth between Carlos and his men.

Why aren’t you helping me?

Why aren’t you doing anything?

“If anyone makes a move—if anyone follows me out of this room or calls the police; if anyone breathes the wrong way—I slit her throat right here, right now.”

My heart feels like it’s about to explode out of my chest.

Why isn’t Carlos helping me?

“Call your guards,” Astor says. “Tell them to let us walk out of here without one word.”

I stare at Carlos as he contemplates this—actually contemplates my life. Finally, Carlos pulls his phone from his pocket and messages the guards.

I am spun around and pushed out the door. The knife is lowered from my neck, and Astor’s fingers splay into mine, gripping my hand so hard I wince in pain, half expecting one of my bones to pop.

“One word from you and I will kill you,” he growls into my ear. “Do you understand?”

I nod, a whimper escaping my lips.

We fall into step together, hand in hand, striding down the same hallway where, hours earlier, I’d mused about how bored I was with my life.

We approach the first guard, a different one from when I checked in. I recognize him as one of Carlos’s right-hand men. Lex something. He’s watching us closely, his tattooed, calloused hand on his gun.

My body tenses, fearing he’s about to kill us both.

He doesn’t. Instead, he hands Astor a safe.

Astor inputs a code and retrieves a pistol, which he hides under his jacket. After that, we’re allowed to pass, though it’s obvious he’s not happy about it. We go through two more checkpoints. Jalen is gone, replaced by another guard. He was my only hope.

We step out of the elevator and into the bustling lobby of Caesars Palace. Hand in hand, I follow Astor’s lead as he slows to reflect a casual meander. We’re smiling, laughing, kissing, and not a single person in the room knows that the man holding my hand has just threatened to kill me. It’s like an out-of-body experience.

Out of nowhere, it seems, a monstrous man joins us, tall and muscular and even scarier than Astor. A tattoo peeks out from under his suit collar, giving me major mafia-kingpin vibes.

He offers me the briefest of glances before falling into step with us like everything is totally normal. Astor calls him Cillian.

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