Page 47 of Unspoken

"Maybe one day, yeah?"

"Maybe."

The moment stretches between us, a little bubble of calm.

Then, without warning, it bursts. A screech of tires shatters the tranquility, followed by a staccato noise that chills my blood—the unmistakable sound of gunfire.

"Down!" Logan's voice is sharp, commanding. He grabs me by the jacket and yanks me back toward the casino as bullets sing past, thudding into the wall where we stood moments before.

"Shit, shit, shit..." My heart hammers against my rib cage as I duck and stumble beside him, trying to process the chaos erupting around us. People scream and scatter. Suddenly, they are a stampede of terror.

"Move, Sasha!" Logan shouts, pulling me along, his grip iron-tight.

We crash back into the casino, the lavish interior now a maze of panic. In the corner of my eye, I see them—two dark figures, faces obscured by ski masks, guns in hand as they barrel through the entrance after us.

"Run!" Logan barks, and we're sprinting through the mayhem, dodging gamblers and overturned chairs. The slot machines are a blur of flashing lights and jarring noise, but all I can hear is my own ragged breathing and the thundering of my pulse.

"Here!" Logan yells, shoving me around the corner, then to some door. "Upstairs, now!" His voice is devoid of warmth. It’s cool and sharp like a blade despite all the drinking we both did.

He pushes the door open and drags me toward the staircase. We take the stairs two at a time, my legs burning with the effort, every cell in my body screaming to just keep moving.

We burst onto the third or maybe fourth floor landing, the service corridor oddly silent compared to the pandemonium below. Logan slams the call button for the staff elevator, his eyes darting back to the stairwell.

"Come on, come on..." I mutter, every second turning into an eternity.

The doors open with a ding, and we lunge inside, Logan hammering the button again. This time for the roof.

As the doors seal us off, my chest heaves with desperate gulps of air.

"Are you hit?" Logan's gray eyes scan me, intense and searching.

I pat myself down, half expecting to find blood, but there's nothing. "No... I'm alright."

"Good." He nods, and for a second, his gaze lingers on mine, a promise that he won't let anything happen to me.

"What do we do next?" I ask.

"Hide."

"You don’t think they’ll find us?"

"They won’t," Logan reassures me. "I’ll make sure of it."

But as the elevator ascends, I can't shake the cold dread in my stomach. Whoever wanted me dead in London is now trying to kill me here in Vegas. I know they're not going to stop. Unless someone stops them. And Logan's caught in the crossfire, all because of me. The weight of that realization is almost suffocating.

"Do you have any idea who these people are?" I manage to ask, though my voice sounds distant, even to my own ears. Besides, Logan probably has no clue. I’m not even certain why I pose the question.

"I’d say you probably know better." Logan's jaw clenches. "But we're not out of this yet," he adds. "So let’s worry about it later."

The elevator dings again, and we step out onto the top floor. From there, Logan takes me up another flight of stairs and we’re finally on the rooftop of the hotel.

The view here is a cold, wet slap of reality—a vast expanse of tables and chairs under the dark sky. The air is filled with the tang of impending rain. It's been on and off all day today. My heart hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs as we stumble across the roof, past the furniture, and toward the edge.

We are on top of the building that has at least thirty floors. The city lights below us are reduced to a smear through the tears accumulated in my eyes when I look down over the parapet.

"Logan, what the bloody hell is going on?" The question comes out in a gasp, my lungs struggling to keep pace because of the fear and exertion.

He doesn't answer right away, instead concentrated on the view below. His silhouette is a neat wall of muscle against the backdrop of Vegas's neon veins. There's a tension to him, like a coiled spring, every sense heightened as he surveys the Strip.

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