Fallon
As we approach the main gaming floor, I notice a shift in the atmosphere. The usual murmur of conversation is quieter, the tension in the air tightening like a noose. My pulse quickens, and I glance around, trying to pinpoint the source of the unease.
And then I see them.
A group of men has just entered the casino, their presence causing unease as everyone looks in their direction. They’re dressed in sharp, tailored suits, but there’s an unmistakable edge to them—a cold, calculating menace that sets them apart from the other patrons.
Leone pauses for a second, taking them in. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Russians,” Leone all but spits.
Milo notices them too, his body tensing as his hand hovers near his concealed weapon. Leone’s grip on my waist tightens, his eyes narrowing as he wa
