Page 25 of High Stakes

“I’m going back for Milo,” Leone growls, loyalty clear in his voice.

“We’ll get Sloan out,” Rocco says, taking some of the weight off Leone. Together, we drag Sloan into the dark tunnel.

The tunnel leads us to another warehouse, this one filled with rows of luxury cars. I barely have time to register the sight when Rocco shoves me forward.

“Keep moving,” he urges.

We get Sloan into a sleek black car, and Rocco starts the engine just as more gunmen burst through the warehouse doors. Bullets ping off the vehicle as Rocco rams the car into the attackers.

I take advantage of the chaos, sprinting for cover. My muscles burn, but I force myself to keep going.

Crawling behind another car, I spot a door and pray it leads somewhere safe. My hands hit a pair of boots, and I peer up, meeting the gaze of a man with a wicked smile.

“Now, who are you?” he sneers, dragging me to my feet, his thick Russian accent makes me shiver. He brushes my hair back, his touch revolting. “My boss will enjoy breaking you…”

I freeze, petrified. But before he can finish, something whizzes past my ear. Blood sprays across my face as he drops dead. Stumbling backward, I see Milo, his gun still raised.

“Are you okay?” he asks urgently, rushing to my side.

Before I can answer, Leone storms into the warehouse, eyes wild.

“Let’s get out of here!” he commands, his voice tight with pain.

Milo leads me toward Leone, who’s drenched in blood. The sight is both horrifying and mesmerizing. He curses when he sees Sloan slumped in the back of the car.

“Damn it,” he growls, regret flickering briefly.

“Rocco, you good?” Milo asks as Rocco staggers over, clearly injured.

“Been through worse,” Rocco grunts, brushing it off.

Leone grabs my arm roughly, shoving me into another car. “Get in.”

He’s about to climb in beside me when a bloodied man sneaks up behind him, knife raised. I scream, and Leone whirls, lightning fast, catching the man’s wrist. In one swift move, he drives the knife into the attacker’s neck, then slices clean through, severing his head.

I gasp, covering my mouth as Leone tosses the head aside and slides into the car, eyes burning with fury.

“Drive,” Leone barks at Milo, who tears out of the warehouse, smashing through another vehicle blocking the exit.

“Head to the casino,” Leone orders, and I glance around, realizing we left Sloan behind.

“Sloan?” I ask, looking at Rocco, who shakes his head sadly.

As we speed toward the city, tension thickens in the car. My mind races, replaying the night’s events, trying to process how my life spiraled so violently out of control.

“Thanks for the warning,” Leone mutters, removing his shirt to inspect the bullet wound.

“I didn’t want him to hurt you,” I whisper, voice trembling. Despite everything, a twisted part of me cares for him, and that terrifies me.

My ears ring with the echo of gunfire. My body aches with new bruises, but my mind reels from the sheer intensity of it all.

Leone remains silent, his jaw set, eyes dark pools of anger. Rocco keeps watch, hand on his gun, ready for more trouble.

I close my eyes, leaning back against the seat, trying to block out the chaos. When I open them, I find Leone watching me.

“Bet you wish you chose the basement,” he chuckles darkly.

Ten

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