Chapter 7 - Playing the Queen
The Grand Palace Casino was a gleaming tower of neon, velvet, and corruption.
By 9:00 PM, the main floor was packed with high-rollers, mob bosses, and corrupt politicians. Upstairs in the private VIP lounge, Marco Rossy—a fat, arrogant man in an expensive white suit—was holding court, surrounded by heavily armed bodyguards. Beside him stood Victor, Declan’s traitorous lieutenant, looking nervous as he sipped scotch.
"Relax, Victor," Marco boomed, slapping the traitor on the back. "Declan Graham is dead or crawling in a ditch. By midnight, the commission will recognize me as the supreme head of the five families."
Down on the casino floor, the heavy glass entrance doors rotated.
A woman stepped into the chandelier-lit foyer.
The crowded room went dead silent for a fraction of a second.
It was Narin.
She was no longer wearing her stained maid's uniform or worn black shoes. She wore a backless, floor-length silk dress of midnight blue, provided by Declan's underground contacts. Her dark hair was pinned up in an elegant coil, exposing the long curve of her neck. High diamond heels clicked against the polished marble floor.
She looked like a queen stepping onto her battleground.
Concealed beneath the silk fabric at her thigh was an encrypted radio transmitter. In her ear was a microscopic earpiece.
"You look stunning," Declan’s voice purred smoothly through the earpiece. He was sitting in his armored SUV in the alleyway behind the building, monitoring every camera feed and audio wire. "Try not to break too many hearts before we kill Marco."
Narin kept her posture regal, her heart pounding like a war drum as she walked toward the high-stakes baccarat table.
"Focus, Declan," she whispered under her breath, pretending to admire her reflection in a mirrored pillar. "Is the secondary team in position?"
"Lucian is in the crawlspace right below you," Declan reported, his voice dropping into a low, protective tone. "The moment you draw Marco's personal guards away from the staircase, we trigger the blackout. Keep your head down, Narin. If anyone touches you, I will burn this building to the ground."
Narin took a deep breath, stepped up to the baccarat table, and pulled out a stack of high-denomination chips provided by Declan.
"Five thousand on the bank," she said in a clear, confident voice that echoed across the quieted floor.
Within two minutes, word reached the upper balcony.
Victor looked down over the golden railing and gasped, dropping his glass. "Marco... look down there. At the baccarat table."
Marco Rossy leaned over the rail, his small eyes widening in disbelief as he recognized the face from the hit flyers. "The maid. The five-hundred-thousand-dollar maid."
A cruel, greedy grin spread across Marco's face. "She's here alone. Declan must be dead, and she’s trying to gamble away his money. Grab her. Bring her to the back room. I want to know where Graham buried his offshore account keys before I cut her throat."
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Four armed guards immediately detached from the VIP section and headed down the grand staircase toward Narin.
Through the earpiece, Declan’s voice cracked like thunder: "They're moving. Phase two. Right now!"
