4. LEIGH

Chapter 4

LEIGH

My attention is locked on the dark-haired devil’s icy blue eyes. His gaze pinning me, cold and predatory, stealing my breath and freezing time itself. I cling to a flicker of hope, knowing deep down that luck has long abandoned my father, and even if it hadn’t, the odds were stacked in favor of the house.

The dark lord’s fingers move with precision, spreading his cards across the felt. His gaze never leaving mine, tightening an invisible vice around my chest. My father’s sharp intake of breath tells me everything before I even glance at the devil’s cards— a full house . The sight sends my stomach plummeting, a cold weight settling deep in my gut.

“No!” The cry rips from my throat, instinctive and uncontrollable, disbelief surging through me like wildfire. My hands shake at my sides as I stare at the cards, struggling to grasp the enormity of what just happened.

“‘Radomir, please,” my father pleads, his voice cracking with fear. “Give me some time to get you the money.”

The devil doesn’t even flinch. His expression remains untouched by the desperation in my father’s voice, as if the crumbling of our world is nothing more than an insignificant detail in his night. He leans back in his chair, exuding an unshakable calm that’s as chilling as his icy blue gaze.

“Congratulations, Mark,” he drawls, his voice smooth and laced with mockery. His lips curl slightly, a ghost of satisfaction darkening his expression as he watches the devastation take hold—the fear in my father’s eyes, the disbelief etched into my own. “You’re now debt free!”

To him, this is all a game—a master puppeteer pulling strings, bending everyone to his will with a flick of his wrist. And right now, we’re the ones tangled in those strings.

A scrape of wood against the floorboards jolts me. I turn to see my father pushing to his feet, his body quivering, eyes searching mine for forgiveness that I no longer have to give him.

As the cold-hearted purveyor of hell basks in his victory, I feel my dreams slipping through my fingers—Los Angeles, songwriting under sunlit skies—all fading into nothingness. The future I fought so hard for is now just another chip in my father’s reckless game.

“Radomir...” My father attempts further coaxing and trying to appeal to the Bratva prince’s compassion, which we both know was futile.

Radomir Molchanov has no heart!

My father’s trembling hand threads through disheveled hair laced with more grey than the rich brown it had once been. “Leigh, baby girl... I...” He turns towards me in an attempt to play on my sympathies.

Anger surges—hot, consuming—blurring my vision and tightening my chest. The man who was supposed to protect me may as well have just stabbed me in the heart. I’d become nothing more than a pile of poker chips, a toy for the Dark Lord of Vegas.

My eyes bore my father, years of betrayal boiling over. My voice comes out sharp, venomous.

“You promised me you were done with this,” I snarl, my temper rising unchecked. “I asked you—begged you—to think about my future for once. But you couldn’t, could you?” My voice rises, cutting through the room. “No. All you care about is your damn addiction. You’ll lie, cheat, even steal from your own daughter just to feed it!”

A red haze clouds my vision as my father steps forward, hands outstretched in a feeble attempt at peace. The giant’s grip tightens momentarily, a silent warning to calm down, but I’m too far gone.

“Leigh, I’ll make it up to you.” His eyes dart nervously toward Radomir Molchanov, seeking approval like a dog waiting for a master’s command. “I swear baby!”

“Make it up to me?” A bitter laugh tears from my throat, jagged and grating, even to my own ears. “Dying—that’s how you make this up to me. Because the only way you’ll stop fucking up my life is if you’re dead!”

The giant lets me go, his grip falling away abruptly, as if the sheer venom of my words has soured his hold. He glares at my father, a flash of disgust crossing his features.

Before I can think, my hand finds the vodka bottle, and it flies through the air, propelled by pure rage it hurtles towards my father’s head with a force I didn’t even know I had. He ducks just in time. The bottle shatters against the window behind him, sending shards of glass spraying like shrapnel. Players shout and dive for cover.

The room plunges into stunned silence. For a moment, the only sound is my ragged breathing, each breath burning as if I’ve swallowed fire. From the corner of my eye, I catch Radomir’s gaze. His expression hasn’t changed—calm, calculating, and completely unaffected by the mess I’ve just created.

“What the hell, Leigh!” my father shouts. “You could’ve killed me.”

“That was the point!” I scream at him, my voice laced with angry frustration as I use the table as a springboard to lunge at my father. Cards and chips scatter through the air, my fingers outstretched, aiming for his throat.

Before I can reach him, strong arms catch me mid-flight. They handle me effortlessly, as though I weigh nothing more than a feather, despite my wild struggles.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!” I growl, my voice trembling with fury.

“Enough,” the command cuts through the room like a whip, its sharp authority freezing everyone in place.” There’s no mistaking the dominance in every syllable.

I make one more attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, my heart pounding against my ribcage, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. But the more I struggle, the stronger his hold gets—unyielding, a reminder of how trapped I am.

“Let go of me.” I snarl through gritted teeth. But Radomir doesn’t budge.

“Not until you calm down,” he replies, his tone infuriatingly even. “This is not the way to handle things and a path that leads nowhere for you, malenkaya zadira.”

I open my mouth to retort and tell him exactly where he can shove his calm and reason, but before I can get the words out, my father’s voice catches my attention.

“Leigh, baby, please try to understand. I did this for us.” my father makes another desperate attempt to appeal to my soft heart.

I blink at him in astonishment. “Jesus. You’re un-fucking-believable.” I wiggle again. My hands itching to rip out my father’s throat.

“I think it’s best if you leave,” Radomir advises my father. “I’ll handle Leigh.”

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach—a cold, creeping dread that steals the breath from my lungs. For a minute, the world tilts beneath my feet, the ground crumbling away as the full weight of what my father has done crashes over me. I stare at him, my mind reeling, my heart shattering into a million jagged pieces.

I force myself to breathe, steadying my voice as a new plan forms. If I can’t fight my way out, I’d act my way out instead. “Daddy, please...” I whisper, my voice breaking just enough to sound convincing. “Don’t do this.” A single sob escapes, the kind I know will tug at his heartstrings.

“Leigh,” my father’s voice breaks. “Sweetheart…” His eyes travel to Radomirs, who still has me clamped against him, and I almost falter in my performance when I feel something start to fill out near my butt. The fucking jerk is enjoying me struggling against him. It’s time to take this performance up a notch.

“Please,” I try to twist and look at Radomir. “Please let me just say goodbye to my dad.”

I see Radomir’s eyes narrow, looking at me skeptically. I let my face crumple and a few tears flow over.

His grip loosens as he nods and steps back. “But you do so here.” Radomir’s eyes hold a dark warning. “Don’t try to leave the room.”

I look at him and nod—years of grifting drummed into me by my father help me keep the act going. It looks like tonight I’m finally going to make my father proud and execute Dalton’s five-D escape plan for when the going got tough and the con artist needed to get going—distract, divert, dodge, duck, and disappear always comes in handy.

I walk toward my father, my eyes dart around the room, searching for any opportunity to cause a distraction. Then I spot it—a man slipping a card under the table. Perfect . I straighten, pointing dramatically. “Hey! That guy’s cheating!” My voice rings out, sharp and commanding, drawing every pair of eyes in the room toward him. “I saw him slip a card beneath the table.”

The man glares at me, but before he can deny it or retaliate, the other men at the table are soon on him, and I nimbly start to slip away.

“What the fuck!” I hear Radomir boom as all hell starts to break loose at the table.

Just to ensure the distraction escalates into a full blown diversion, I turn and address the other tables, raising my voice over the rising anger. “I’d check who’s at your tables if I were you. This man’s not the only one I noticed cheating when I walked in.”

I would love to catch the Dark lords eyes and give him the finger. But I also know not to press my luck. This may be my only chance to escape, and I head for the door—freedom in my sights. But just in case another obstacle appears out of nowhere to block my way I slip my hand into my purse feeling for the cool tin of pepper spray.

“Leigh!” My father appears out of nowhere. His hand circling my arm painfully, like the good old days when I’d disappointed him. “What the hell are you doing? That man will kill us both.” His eyes flash angrily, and just like that, he’s transformed from a drunken lout into angry dad mode. “I told you I have a goddamn plan.”

“And your plans always work!” I sneer nastily. “No thanks. I’m going to stick to my plan of escape.”

His jaw clenches, and I get a glimpse of the confident, strong man I know he once was before my mother died. For a moment, I hesitate. But only for a moment, as the angry roar of the room reminds me that my escape window is closing.

“Get back there,” my father demands. “He will kill us, Leigh. That’s no joke, and you’ll have ruined everything I’ve worked so hard for.”

Disbelief and skepticism wash over me . Yeah, right!Where has he been working so hard and on what? Out of habit and that eternal hope I have that he’s changed, I want to ask and hear what his plan is, even if I know it’s probably just bullshit! A trap to reel me into another one of his fucked up schemes. I’m about to reply, but a crash distracts me, and I turn to see Fredrik lunge at a man.

Shit that’s my cue. It’s time to get out of Vegas . I turn back to my father, trying to yank my arm loose. “No, Dad.” I glance pointedly at his hand bruising my arm. “He’ll kill you !“ A smug smile tilts my lips. “Because I’ll be long gone before all this settles—just like you taught me. You know Daltons five-D escape plan!”

“Leigh, I swear to God,” he seethes, surprisingly lucid for a man who was blazing drunk a few minutes ago and lost me in a game of cards. “If you don’t get back there now…”

“You’ll… what? Ground me, steal my money, lose me in a game of poker?” Disdain drips off every word and I grip the pepper spray in my bag tighter, popping off the lid and feeling for the little hole to ensure I’m holding it the right way—I don’t want to spray myself in the face! “There’s not much more you can do to me that you haven’t already done, old man.” I start to move my hand from my purse. “It’s in your best interest and it will be a lot less painful for you if you just let me go so I can get out of here while the chaos still reigns.”

“The hell you are,” my father snarls. “You’re going to cost us everything with this stunt you’ve pulled.”

“Us?” I look at him in disbelief. “Oh no, you don’t. This isn’t on me. It’s on you. You stole my future and then tried to lock me away with a fucking bratva boss. Without so much as batting an eyelid you condemned me to hell.”

“You don’t understand!” My father says through gritted teeth. “I had a plan. One you’ve just royally screwed up and that you’re going to fix and bear the consequences of.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing, Dad,” I sneer. “I’m no longer a little girl so eager to please her daddy in fear of his drunken wrath. I’m also no longer going to be helping you dig yourself out of the holes you’ve dug for yourself.” I try pull myself lose again.

“Stop fucking around Leigh.” His grip tightens on my arm. “You’re coming with me to face the consequences and ensure this doesn’t come down on my head.”

“And there it is! Protecting your own skin again by dropping me in the shit,” I hiss. “Fuck you.” My hand whips out of my bag, and I hit him full force in the eyes with the pepper spray.

“Ugh,” My father howls in pain. His hand slipping from my arm to cover his eyes.

“I warned you it would be less painful just to let go of me. Oh, and don’t rub. It just makes it worse.” I tut unapologetically. I’m about to bolt, but his hand grabs my shoulder.

“Stop.” He snarls, trying to see out his painful eyes. “Don’t you dare run!”

“Let go of me,” I hiss at him, and then, without a second thought, I swing. My fist connects with his jaw. “Fuuuckk,” I growl under my breath, cradling my throbbing hand as my surprised father staggers back.

But I don’t have time to examine my hand as he regains his balance and lunges for me. But I hit him with more pepper spray.

“Jesus, fucking, Christ!” He growls.

“I hope it burns your fucking eyeballs out, you bastard,” I say, leaning in as he struggles to clear his vision. “I want you to know that I hate you,” I spit, each word laced with the hate I feel for him. “Do you hear me? You’re nothing to me. Dead. And if I ever see you again...” I lean closer, my voice dropping to a cold whisper. “It won’t be pepper spray in my hand, and you really will be dead.”

I give one more squirt just for good measure.

“Jesus! Stop that,” my father yells, his hands flailing around, but I’m already ducking and dodging toward to the door, my aching hand cradled in my sweater pocket.

I turn to see the room in pandemonium and all bouncers on deck rushing in to control the mob scene. Take that, you fucking cheating scumbag trying to buy me like I’m a pound of flesh at a butcher. I catch Radomir’s menacing eyes from across the room, and a cold shiver rushes down my spine at the anger burning in them.

Luckily, he’s surrounded by a horde of angry rich men, but the look he sends me is clear— this is far from over.

“Time to disappear,” I mutter, my voice low.

I think about saluting him or giving him the finger, but I don’t want to chance poking the bear any harder than I already have, and my saluting hand is throbbing like hellfire from cracking my father’s jaw.

I turn to head out the door.

“Oof!” I run into another fucking brick wall. I step back and look into the sparkling aquamarine eyes of a man I recognize from a burlesque club where my best friend Sabrina’s mother works.

“Well, hello,” the man eyes me suggestively. “Where are you off to in such a rush?”

“A date with my future,” I answer. “Excuse me.”

I go to push past him as a shout from behind me catches the man’s attention, and I use that moment to slip by him disappearing into the crowd, trying to figure out when the next bus to anywhere out of Vegas leaves.

As I rush out the hotel doors, I feel in my purse. Fuck! I’ve left my bus ticket at my apartment, and there’s no way in hell I can go back there. That’s the first place the Russian mob will look for me.

I glance up and see the Golden Lights Hotel and Casino sign shining like a beacon in the distance. Sabrina! I glance back. I can’t go straight there as they are sure to get me on those cameras, so I pull up my hood and duck around the corner, dissolving into the night.

As the darkness engulfs me, what I’ve just done starts to hit me. Fuck! I just called out the fucking Prince of Darkness himself. My knees start to feel shaky. Goddammit! Carla Craft, the only woman role model I’ve had for the past ten years and my best friend, Sabrina’s mother, always warned me that my quick temper would bring me nothing but trouble—well, it seems she was right! Only I think this time it may just have cost me my life and a broken hand! As it turns out, punching someone in the face is not as easy as it seems in the movies.

Heading toward my destination the image of Radomir Molchanov’s icy glare sends a shiver down my spine. There was a silent promise burning in those impossibly blue eyes. My breath stumbles. I may be free for now. But this isn’t over. My only hope is to put as much distance as I can between me and him!