Checkout morning arrived with the harsh clarity of Vegas daylight slicing through the suite’s blackout curtains. The fountains below still danced their programmed ballet, indifferent to the end of the game. Samantha’s flight was rebooked—early afternoon departure, plenty of time to make the airport if she left soon. She packed in silence, movements economical: folded silk blouse, tucked heels, the thin gold choker slipped carefully into the inner pocket of her purse like a high-value chip she intended to cash in later.
The men watched from their separate stations, quiet sentinels of the space they’d turned into a four-day furnace.
Damien leaned in the bedroom doorway, arms loosely crossed, silver-streaked hair catching the light. Cole stood by the window, massive frame blocking half the
