Page 42 of Burning Your Lies

Ray’s face remains devoid of any emotion, a bored expression etched on his features. He checks his watch and sighs. “Are you done?”

Rowan tosses a card onto the table. “Burn.”

We all wait for him to reveal the three cards. With one person folding and the others calling, I eye the five of hearts.

I toss a grey chip. “Raise. Fifty thousand.”

Kane eyes the cards once again. “Call.”

Our host whistles. “Feeling thirsty for some blood? Burn,” he says as he tosses another card. He places another card next to the three already on the table.

Kane shrugs. “Raise. Fifty thousand.”

The man next to him folds. Then it’s all eyes on Ray.

But his eyes are glued to Kane, and then, as if there is something pulling him to Rowan, they shift to him. Nothing in his expression gives away why there is a colossal amount of tension in the room. “Fold,” he says as he stands up.

Rowan stands too. “Fucking sit your ass back down,” he snarls.

Finally, Ray shows some emotion. His eyes house a fury I haven’t seen in him before. His low voice is calculating. “Watch yourself.”

Closing the distance between them, Rowan speaks in a hushed tone, but the threat is heard by everyone present. “Don’t make me expose your poker face.” When Ray refuses to follow order, he smirks. “Let’s bring your wife in to say hello to our guests.”

At the mention of Savannah, he wavers. Reluctantly, he resumes his seat. “Call.”

After Rowan and I call as well, the final card is revealed.

“Raise. One-hundred thousand.” Ray places the red chip in front of him.

“Call,” Rowan says, matching the bet.

Knowing I have a flush in my hands, I say, “Call.”

Kane grins at us all. “Call.”

“Reveal your cards, gentlemen.”

We all share a look before turning our cards onto the table face up. Kane and Rowan show a losing hard. And just when I think I’ve won, Ray stares at me.

“A royal flush,” Rowan says, sounding impressed. “Claim your victory. And Kane?”

It feels like time moves in slow motion, but in reality, everything happens in the blink of an eye. Kane looks up at Rowan. Rowan grins at him before pulling out a gun. The loud bang of the trigger being pulled makes us flinch. Rowan laughs as the man next to me jumps into action and throws himself at Rowan. Within moments, his body is forcefully pinned against the wall, his throat constricting as his life hangs by a thread.

Ray watches, unfazed. While Rowan strangles a man to death, he stands immobile, resembling a statue.

Kane’s other lackey, William, is on the floor trying to stop the bleeding. But the blood is everywhere except inside him. The blood creates a red valley across the marble floors. When he realises there is no saving his friend, William screams and lunges across the table for Rowan. He puts him into a headlock and tries to pull him off his friend.

Neither Ray nor I move. We stand, bewildered, on opposite sides of the room.

“Huxley,” Rowan groans.

This time, nothing moves slowly.

The mention of the name makes William flinch, but Ray quickly puts his arm around the man’s neck before he can say anything. In just a split second, a snapping noise is heard, andthen his body collides with the floor, creating a loud thud. Ray retreats and observes the inanimate body. He looks at Rowan, who is perspiring after having choked the man.

Surrounded by three corpses, the three of us stand in the room.

“It’s a good thing you wore black,” he says to Ray before walking out of there.

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