There is animated chatter among the men, congratulating Santo on his win while I stare wide-eyed. What just happened? Alek wasn’t supposed to lose. He was supposed to win. He was supposed to get me out of here. He wasn’t supposed to trade Willow and Saint like nothing but cattle.
But now, he’s condemned me, Saint, and Willow.
I can’t breathe.
Santo draws the chips toward him, happier than a pig in s**t. He’s won the information he needed, money, and two of Alek’s closest confidants. The bad guy won. I don’t understand this.
“Let us have a drink before you spill all your secrets,” Fausto quips, coming to a stand. He is elated their plan to milk Alek of his secrets has come about so soon.
Christian walks over to Saint, and when he attempts to caress his cheek, Saint strikes out in the b
