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Please don’t hurt him, I think to myself.
Leone steps aside, and my eyes meet Marcus’s worried ones. He holds a hand out to me, and I swiftly move to take it when Milo tugs me back against him, his hand pressing against my stomach.
Marcus steps forward, and I can tell he wants to rip me away from Milo, but my eyes hold him, warning him not to. “Everything is fine,” Milo states, his hand moving to my throat as he cranes my head back to look at him. “Right, Fallon?” Milo says, and a shiver runs up my spine at the angry look in his eyes. Milo’s grip tightens subtly, his hand pressing against my stomach to keep me close. His breath is a warm whisper against my ear, chilling in its intensity. “Tell Marcus everything is fine,” he instructs, ensuring only I can hear the menacing undertone of his voice.
As I nod slightly, forcing a calm I don’t feel, Milo continues, his lips barely moving. “And just so we’re clear,” he adds, his voice dropping even lower, “next time your little friend interrupts us, I will kill him. And you, my dear, will watch.”
The threat sends a shiver of terror down my spine, and I hastily nod again, my eyes meeting Marcus’s concerned gaze. “Everything is fine, Marcus,” I say, my voice steady despite the fear Milo’s words have instilled. “Really, there’s no need to worry.”
Marcus hesitates, searching my face for any sign of the lie. He doesn’t look satisfied, but he nods slowly and steps forward, his hand outstretched, unaware of the chilling promise Milo has just made.
“You should come inside. It’s chilly out here,” Marcus says, his eyes not leaving Milo behind me.
Milo lets me go, and I rush to accept Marcus’s hand. He tugs me close, draping an arm across my shoulders.
Marcus doesn’t waste time steering me to the door when I hear Milo’s deep, rumbling laugh as I push through the doors and inside.
“What was that about?” Marcus asks, pushing me up against the wall.
“Nothing, a misunderstanding,” I answer, glancing at the door nervously.
Marcus grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw bulging. “If you’re in trouble, tell me. I can help you,” Marcus says, and I chew my lip. Am I in trouble, or are they just trying to frighten me? I know the answer, but I don’t want Marcus mixed up in my mess. And I highly doubt Marcus can help me; they’d kill him without thinking twice about it.
“Everything is fine. I’ll handle it,” I tell him. He goes to say something, but I cut him off. “If you’re here, who’s holding my table?”
“Ben is, I heard security say they went out back and knew you were out there… I don’t like how they’ve been watching you all night,” he adds. I swallow his words confirming I wasn’t imagining it.
“Thanks, but you shouldn’t have come out; they could have…” I don’t finish. Marcus isn’t blind; he knows who they are and what they are. The entire city knows; it’s no secret, just one no one dares to speak of.
We return to the floor, slipping back into the roles of the happy dealers. The night presses on, an endless cycle of shuffles and deals, but my leg bounces restlessly beneath the table.
I have plans to make, and more jobs that I need to schedule. The idea of moonlighting at another joint crosses my mind—somewhere discreet, the stakes higher, and where Leone Pressutti’s watchful eyes can’t reach. Had I known Verdigris was his new establishment, I never would have stepped foot into the place. Yet, it is the best place to earn money fast if you win and the only place I have had enough to buy in.
As I cash out the last winner for the night, my fingers itch to grab the chips and run, to throw caution to the wind for that one big score that could save my sister. Instead, I smile, watching the person leave before turning to Marcus.
“Do you know if my father waited?” I ask him, and he glances over at me, packing up his table.
“No, I saw him leave earlier. He seemed in a rush. He didn’t even say hello back when I called out to him,” he grumbles.
“Is Emma okay? Maybe he rushed off to see her before the hospital closed for visitors,” Marcus states. I try not to let his words bother me, but something nags at me.
He isn’t with Emma. The visiting hours already ended unless…. No, my father would have notified me if something happened to her. So, instead, I shrug. “I guess I’ll find out once I get home,” I tell Marcus.
“Message me once home, so I know you got home alright,” he tells me as his eyes dart to the floor above. I nod once and turn to leave.
Exiting through the staff door, I feel the chill of the night air strike my flushed cheeks. I pause, letting the reality of the outside world wash over me. Emma’s laughter and dreams of a future untainted by illness are the fuel that fires my every step, the very heartbeat of my determination not to fail her.
The drive home from work is long and tedious, the monotonous hum of the engine blending with the dull ache in my head. I yawn and rub my eyes, knowing that I will be back at work in only a few short hours, my body and mind trapped in an endless cycle of labor and fatigue.
But for now, I am grateful for the solitude of the car. The only sounds are the gentle purr of the engine and my racing thoughts.
My house comes into view. It’s a small brick house, but it’s always been big enough for the three of us. We made happy memories there, and I long for Emma to be home so that we can make more.
As I pull into my driveway and step out of the car, the cool air of the late hour envelops me, pulling me back into the present moment. I sigh, knowing that tomorrow will be just like today, and the day after that, and the day after that. But for now, I am home, and that is enough; it has to be.
I notice my father’s car parked in front of mine, and as I walk toward the house, I text Marcus, letting him know I’m home. His response seconds later makes a smile tug at my lips.
Marcus: Good, call me if you need me.
