Elena Vitiello POV:
The dealer's hands shook slightly as he burned the top card and quickly dealt the flop onto the center of the green felt. The Queen of Hearts, the King of Spades, and the Ace of Diamonds.
Sofia buried her face into the back of Luca's jacket, her shoulders shaking as she let out loud, dramatic sobs. She was trying to weaponize her tears, hoping some man in the room would step up to defend her honor. Not a single person moved. The men around us looked at her with cold, unblinking contempt.
Luca stood frozen, the heavy killing intent from a dozen armed guards pressing down on his chest. A thick bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He finally realized that the protective bubble he lived in for the past ten years had popped. He was standing in a room full of predators, and he was the prey.
He shifted his eyes away from the guards and looked at me. His gaze was frantic, begging. He was silently asking me to call off the dogs, to save him from his own stupidity, just like he had done a hundred times before.
I met his gaze. My eyes were empty, reflecting nothing but the cold chandelier light. I severed the final, invisible thread connecting us.
It was my turn to act. I reached out with my right hand, my long fingers elegantly pinching the corners of my two hole cards. I did not look down at the community cards on the table. I kept my eyes locked onto Luca's face, turning a simple game of poker into a public execution.
I lifted the cards and slammed them face-up onto the table with a sharp, explosive crack.
Every eye in the room darted to the felt.
There lay two Jacks. The Jack of Clubs and the Jack of Spades.
In the language of the cards, and in the deep-rooted slang of the mafia, a Jack was a servant. A foot soldier. A disposable pawn meant to take the hit for the royalty.
I placed my hands flat on the edge of the table and pushed myself up. I leaned forward, letting my presence expand until it suffocated the space between us.
I stared dead into Luca's wide eyes and spoke in a voice so cold it could freeze blood.
"I fold."
I paused for a fraction of a second, letting the terminology hang in the air before delivering the final strike.
"I'm throwing away these two useless Jacks."
A collective, muffled gasp swept through the crowd. The double entendre was a brutal, precise blade, and every single person in the room understood exactly what I just did. I didn't just insult them; I publicly stripped them of their status, declaring them abandoned property.
All the blood drained from Luca's face, leaving him looking like a corpse. His mouth opened slightly as he stared down at the two discarded face cards. He saw his own reflection in the glossy paper. He was the trash being tossed aside.
Behind him, Matteo's face contorted in shame. He squeezed his hands into tight fists, his nails digging so hard into his palms I could see the skin turning white.
Sofia wiped her eyes, looking confused. She didn't understand the poker terminology, but she understood the absolute dominance radiating from my posture. Her face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly resentment.
I did not give them another second of my time. I reached down, grabbed my black velvet clutch from the table, and turned my back on them.
I walked toward the exit. The crowd of dangerous men parted immediately, creating a wide, clear path for me.
Behind me, I heard a sudden, violent scuffle. Panic had finally overridden Luca's paralysis. The reality that I was walking away—permanently—slammed into his brain.
He shoved Sofia aside with brutal force. "Get off me!" he yelled.
Sofia shrieked as she lost her balance on her ridiculous heels. She crashed hard onto the wooden floor. The cheap fabric of her red dress caught on the leg of a chair and ripped open with a loud, embarrassing tear.
Matteo rushed forward, reaching down to help her up. Sofia slapped his hand away viciously, her face red with fury and embarrassment.
I pushed the heavy brass doors open. The biting chill of the October Chicago wind slammed into me, whipping loose strands of hair across my face.
My armored Maybach was already idling at the curb, the rear door held wide open by my shadow guard.
Before I could take the first step down the concrete stairs, Luca burst through the brass doors behind me. His chest heaved, his eyes wild with desperation.
"Elena!" he shouted, his voice cracking.
He leaped down the first two steps, his arm extending outward. His large hand reached out, aiming to grab my wrist to force me to stop.
I spun around on my heel. I did not flinch. I did not step back. I stared at him with eyes as sharp as razors. The temperature on the steps dropped to freezing.
In the darkness around us, the distinct sound of metal sliding against metal cut through the wind.
"Get lost."
