The dimly lit office inside the casino smelled of stale cigar smoke and expensive perfume, a stark contrast to the sterile, high-stakes world Ruby inhabited.
Seron sat behind his desk, a glass of amber liquid halfway to his lips, when his phone buzzed against the polished wood.
He didn't recognize the number, but he opened the message anyway. As he read the text, his hand went completely still.
The message was brief, cold, and devastatingly precise: The police are coming. Violet's diamond shipment is being tracked, and the girls in the basement aren't hidden as well as you think.
You're the one holding the keys, Seron. Do you really want to be the one who takes the fall for her?
Seron felt the blood drain from his face. He stood up so abruptly that his chair skidded backward, hitting the wall with a sharp thud.
He walked to the window, peering out into the neon-drenched parking lot. Everything looked the same as it had ten minutes ago, but now, the shadows felt predatory.
