Page 42 of High Stakes

“Your father?” she asks, looking away and I swallow thickly. I don’t offer her a reply, I don’t need to. We both know the answer already.

Instead, I change the subject completely and swivel to face her fully, my body tensing as I ask her the question playing on my mind since the night the Russians attacked. “Why are you behaving?” The words come out low and intense, slicing through the quiet. “Why aren’t you fighting me anymore?”

Fallon’s eyes hold mine, unwavering. Her chest rises and falls with measured breaths.

“I don’t want to fight you anymore,” she says, and her voice, usually so full of fire, trembles like a leaf in the wind. I don’t believe her; she has to be playing some game, have some motive behind her actions.

“Why? What has changed?” I demand. My eyes bore into hers, searching for the truth she must be hiding. “Because you think I’ll get rid of you once you give me what I want?”

Her pulse flutters visibly at the base of her throat. She inhales sharply.

“No. I can’t keep living in constant battle with you—it’s exhausting, Leone.”

The vulnerability in her eyes is naked raw, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the woman behind the façade she mostly hides behind.

“I know you won’t hesitate to get rid of me once I give you what you want.”

“So suddenly you’re gonna be a good girl?” I scoff, the sound harsh in the quiet interior of the car. Leaning forward, I brace my arm on the back of her seat, the gesture caging her without touch. “So, what?” My voice drips with disbelief and a dark edge of humor. “Because you don’t want to die, I’m expected to just trust you are now going to behave?”

Her body is tense like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. The air between us crackles with electricity, charged with the unspoken truths and lies we’ve woven around each other. The game has always been about power, about control. Yet here we are, teetering on the brink of something far more dangerous—something that could shatter all our pretenses.

“It’s not just that,” she finally breaks the quiet, voice trembling. Her gaze fixes on something distant, something beyond the leather and steel confines of the car. “I… I see things differently now. I see you differently.”

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“It doesn’t matter; I just don’t want to fight; it is pointless. It’s cold. I wanna go inside,” she murmurs.

Her words hang between us, delicate and dangerous. I want to grasp them, to understand, but before I can sift through their meaning, she’s moving, reaching for the door handle with a desperation which snatches my attention from contemplation to action.

“Where do you think you’re going?” My voice is a low growl. My hand moves, snatching her arm and pulling her back into the car, and she tries to shake me off. “Leone?” she jerks her arm away and tries to climb out, but I rip her back, making her fall on me. She doesn’t just get to walk off when I am talking to her! Leather creaks under her weight as I pin her against the seat. At the same moment, Milo rips the door open. I don’t bother lifting my gaze, knowing it’s him, he is the only one stupid enough to challenge me over her.

“Close the door, Milo,” I snap, my voice a lethal calm belying the storm raging within me. The muscle in his jaw twitches, a subtle sign of inner conflict, as he takes in the scene before him—Fallon pinned beneath me, her chest heaving with shallow breaths, her eyes wide and wild yet locked onto mine.

Milo’s hesitation is tangible, a palpable pause where loyalty and his love for her wage war behind those calculating brown eyes, making me lift my gaze to him when he doesn’t do what I say immediately. His gaze darts from Fallon’s vulnerable form to my iron grip on her arm, and for a moment, I can see the calculations running through his mind, weighing his next move and if it will make her situation worse. But then, slowly, the fight leaves his frame, and with a resigned nod, he closes the door.

The click of the door closing reverberates through the silence, sealing us inside. Milo’s presence fades away as the soft thud of his footsteps retreats into the distance, leaving only the sound of our uneven breathing.

“Leone…” Her voice breaks the spell, a tremble threading through her name for me, stirring an unexpected warmth deep within my chest.

“You’re not to walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” I say, my voice a dangerous whisper filling the car like a chilling fog. Her gaze doesn’t waver, but I can see it—the quickening pulse at her throat, the fear tainting those deep green eyes.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air thick with tension. “I don’t like how Milo is willing to get between us. You’re causing a rift between us.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “I’m not stealing Milo from you!” she screams at me, her voice echoing in the confined space.

“No, but he’s stealing you from me,” I retort, the realization hitting me harder than I expected.

She looks taken aback, her mouth opening and closing as she searches for a response. “You belong to me,” I continue, my voice a growl. “And if you keep causing a rift, one of you will have to go. I won’t be a third wheel in my marriage or my friendship with Milo. So, what is it, Fallon? If I have to choose between you both, who am I choosing?”

Tears slip down her face as she looks at me, her eyes wide with fear and resignation. “I know it won’t be me,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

I lean closer, my breath hot against her skin. “So, tell me, Fallon, are you going to betray Milo and tell me to choose you over him?”

She doesn’t answer, her eyes fill with tears she is trying to keep at bay.

“Who am I killing?” I scream in her face, my voice raw with emotion.

“Neither!” she yells back, her voice shaking but firm.

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