An odd tension settled over the casino.

Leo glanced around awkwardly, his eyes finally settling on the cold gleam of the revolver. He managed a strained smile. "Since the Principessa is in the mood, I'll be the referee."

He reached for the gun, but a long, slender hand pressed down on his.

Killian didn't even look at me. He was slouched languidly on the velvet sofa, one hand casually spinning the cylinder.

"No need," he said in a low voice. "Let's raise the stakes. Simple life and death is so boring."

Clara let out a coquettish laugh, nearly collapsing into his arms, the swell of her breasts brushing against the collar of his shirt.

"Then we'll do what Killian says."

I looked at the gun. It was my turn.

I caught a glimpse of the single bullet in the cylinder, and my heart began to race.

When my turn came, I prayed for an empty chamber.

I pulled the trigger. Click. The hammer fell on an empty chamber.

"Whoa, is Seraphina playing for real tonight?" A few lewd whistles came from the crowd.

I forced a smile, desperately maintaining my elegant facade. "Just for fun."

Click. An empty chamber.

I set the gun down, my palms slick with cold sweat.

After a few rounds, the tension at the table grew suffocating.

Killian seemed to find this level of excitement childish. His arrogance was bone deep, radiating a crushing sense of absolute control.

Clara noticed my anxiety and looked at me provocatively. "Sera, if you're not feeling well, you can just forfeit. Killian cares about you the most. He won't blame you."

My fingers dug into the fabric of my dress, my knuckles turning white.

I knew Killian was waiting for me to back down. Waiting for me to run from the room with red rimmed eyes, unable to bear the humiliation, just as I had for the past ten years.

Then, like placating a disobedient cat, he would magnanimously forgive my "immaturity."

An icy coldness spread through me, as if I'd been plunged into the deep sea.

I watched the entangled pair across from me.

Killian's hand was no longer hidden. It roamed freely, disappearing deep beneath the high slit of Clara's dress.

"Continue," I said calmly.

Killian raised an eyebrow, giving me a surprised look.

Another round.

The odds were stacking against me. With each pull of the trigger, the chances of hitting an empty chamber dwindled.

The pressure was now squarely on me.

Clara covered her mouth and giggled. "Sera, just give up. Killian doesn't want to see you lose too badly. After all, you're the face of the Russo family."

All eyes focused on me, the whispers growing more venomous.

"What is Seraphina thinking, challenging Killian's authority at a time like this?"

"Please, everyone in our circle knows the Russo princess has been obsessed with the Falcone heir for years. She barely dares to speak above a whisper around him. She must think getting engaged gives her the right to act like the matriarch."

"Give me a break. A man like Killian is never going to settle down. He's just playing with her."

My right hand clenched into a fist, my nails digging into my palm.

Ever since I was fourteen, when a blood-soaked Killian saved me from a rival family, I had been chasing his shadow.

I didn't care about any of the taunts or ridicule.

All I wanted was Killian.

But tonight was our engagement party. Watching him trample my dignity to amuse another woman, I felt none of the passion and anticipation I once had.

"I'm in."

This time, I was betting my life.

I pulled the trigger again. It was another empty chamber, but I hadn't won.

Because Killian didn't pick up the gun. He simply lifted his chin and said to Clara, "You can have my turn."

The room erupted.

As expected of the most ruthless heir in the underworld, he had handed the chance of survival, the very power to control the game, directly to this woman.

He let out a low, ambiguous laugh, his eyes full of mockery.

"Here I go, then," Clara said, closing her eyes. She gripped the gun with both hands and pulled the trigger wildly, aiming at the ceiling.

Click. Another empty chamber.

She was lucky.

"Looks like God is on my side," Clara blew a kiss at me. "A bet's a bet, my dear Sera."

Whispers rippled through the onlookers.

"Looks like the Russo princess is in for it tonight."

"It's her own fault for trying to show off and going against Killian."

With a final shred of hope, I stared at Killian, waiting for him to step in and stop this. He knew exactly what kind of unreasonable demand Clara would make.

But he just glanced at me coolly, a cigar held between his fingers. His expression was unreadable through the swirling smoke. He said nothing.

The last ember of hope inside me died. This, I thought, is the man you've loved for so long.

My face was pale, but I remained silent.

Leo was wiping away cold sweat, trying one last time to intervene. "Alright, alright, let's just call this one a draw. Everyone has a drink and we'll call it a night..."

"Wait." Clara suddenly spoke, cutting Leo off.

"If I remember correctly, I won this round."

She drew out her words. "According to our rules, the winner can order the loser to do anything. Right, Killian?"

Killian blew out a smoke ring and nodded nonchalantly.

No one dared to speak. The atmosphere was stretched to its breaking point.

The smile on Clara's lips widened. "In that case, I order Seraphina..."

Clara's voice was quiet, but it carried a sticky malice that echoed through the dead silent cabin.

"That guest from Moscow, Mr. Boris."

She pointed a finger toward a fleshy man in the corner who was chugging vodka.

He was an envoy from the Russian mafia, notorious for his depravity.

"I order my dear sister Seraphina to give Mr. Boris a passionate kiss," Clara said, her body shaking with laughter. "It's 'diplomatic etiquette,' after all."

At her words, Boris's cloudy eyes lit up. He licked his lips obscenely, revealing teeth yellowed by tobacco.

I took one last look at Killian.

The fingers that had been drumming nonchalantly on the table stopped.

Killian's smile froze, the lazy mockery gone in an instant.

His jaw tightened. The poker chip he'd been toying with hit the table with a sharp crack.

Killian's gaze swept over Boris before finally locking onto me.

In that moment, I was sure he would save me.

He had known for a while that the Russian had designs on me, held back only by his respect for the Falcone family.

Leo sensed something was wrong and whispered a warning, "Boss, this joke is going too far. She's a Russo..."

"Shut up."

Killian tugged irritably at his tie, not looking at Leo.

I knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for me to show the same vulnerability I always had, even just a little. Then he would flip this table and throw Boris into the sea.

But this time, I didn't.

Seeing my continued silence, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes hardened into the fury of being defied.

"A bet's a bet, my love."

He finally spoke, his tone anything but friendly. "I know you can handle it."

Those few casual words were like a poisoned blade, piercing straight through my chest.

So, he could tolerate Clara pressing against him. He could stand by and watch me be humiliated. He could even push me toward another man with his own hands.

A bitter irony and a bone deep coldness enveloped me.

I stared at his handsome but distant face and suddenly felt like I was looking at a stranger.

I stood up and walked numbly toward Boris.

The Russian, reeking of alcohol and sweat, had already scrambled to his feet, his fat, greasy hands reaching for my waist.

"Don't touch me."

I bit out the words. My voice wasn't loud, but it made Boris freeze.

I closed my eyes, held my breath, and planted a quick kiss on his greasy cheek.

A powerful wave of nausea rose in my throat.

Behind me, I heard a glass slam onto a table.

I didn't have to turn around to know it was Killian.

The cabin was terrifyingly quiet, broken only by Boris's unsatisfied, strange laugh.

I turned back, my eyes turning red against my will. "Is that good enough?"

Clara seemed to have been startled by Killian's reaction. She froze for a second before recovering, then burst into a triumphant, coquettish laugh. "Of course. The heir's wife is so generous, as expected."

Leo quickly stepped in to mediate. "Alright, alright, that's enough for tonight. Let's escort Miss Seraphina back to her room..."

"No."

I took a deep breath, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

All eyes were on me. Killian was staring at my smeared red lips, his expression thunderous.

But I no longer cared.

I finally understood I'd been nursing a viper. Sweet to my face, but her fangs were sharp the moment she had a man's attention.

It's always the quiet ones.

"You won that last round. You had the right to make a demand."

I stared into Clara's eyes and said, word by word, "Now, do you dare raise the stakes with me?"

Clara was stunned, then laughed as if she'd heard the most absurd joke. "Seraphina, you want to play against me? What's the bet?"

"The jewelry smuggling route to Europe that's under my name."

I had just dropped a bombshell.

It was the family's cleanest, most profitable artery, and it was my last bargaining chip.

Clara had coveted it for a long time.

The cabin erupted. Even Killian narrowed his eyes, his body leaning forward as if to stop me.

"If you win, the route is yours," I said, staring her down. "But if you lose..."

I pointed to the branding iron used to punish traitors, glowing red hot by the fireplace.

"I want you to brand the family's traitor mark on your chest. And you will be cast out from Killian's protection."

Clara's face went white. She instinctively looked to Killian, as if seeking refuge.

But Killian's gaze was fixed on me. Everything I had done tonight was beyond his expectations.

"I accept," he said, blowing out a ring of smoke, making the decision for Clara.

Clara was trapped. She could only bite her lip and nod. "Fine! I'll play one more round with you!"

The revolver was back on the table.

Clara's hand trembled as she picked it up. The lure of immense profit overcame her fear.

She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

An empty chamber.

Her eyes flew open, ecstasy flooding her face as she provocatively pushed the gun toward me. "Your turn, my friend."

My turn.

I took the gun.

In the cylinder, only two slots remained. One held the bullet.

Without the slightest hesitation, I pressed the cold muzzle to my temple.

Through the crowd, I saw Leo cover his eyes in terror. I saw Killian's hand grip his glass so tightly his knuckles were white. He was shaking.

Was he nervous? No, that couldn't be. He was probably just nervous about the shipping route.

I smiled bitterly. Even now, I was still being a fool.

I pulled the trigger.

Click. The firing pin struck an empty chamber.

Death had brushed past me once again.

I lowered the gun and looked at the ashen faces of Killian and Clara.

Six chambers. Four empty.

Now it was a fifty fifty chance.

I pushed the gun to the center of the table, my voice as light as a ghost's.

"Only one chamber left."

"Killian. Are you going to take the bullet for her, or let her face it herself?"

Killian did not reach for the gun.

He let out a low chuckle, the same careless tone he always used to coax me.

He gently cupped my face, his thumb stroking the corner of my mouth.

A flicker of confusion went through me.

People around us started whispering.

"Has Seraphina lost her mind? She's gone mad from losing."

"She's going to disgrace the entire Russo family, making a scene like this at her own engagement party."

"Seraphina, stop it."

His voice was almost gentle. "You've had too much to drink. These violent games aren't for you. Look at you, your hands are shaking."

As he spoke, he casually swiped his other hand across the table, knocking the revolver to the floor.

The dignity I had fought for was, in his eyes, nothing more than a childish tantrum.

"This round doesn't count." Killian leaned back lazily, undoing a button on his collar. "As punishment for your behavior tonight, the shipping route goes to Clara."

Clara's eyes lit up. She immediately pushed the document in front of me and cooed, "Oh, well, if Killian says so, then thank you, Sera."

I froze, staring at Killian.

He was raising his glass, watching me through the amber liquid with that familiar, disciplinary look in his eyes.

"Sign it, Sera," he said dismissively. "Be a good girl. As long as you listen, I'll buy you better toys later. Don't let outsiders see the future matriarch of the Falcone family making a fool of herself."

So called fairness, from his lips, was just a whip to tame me.

If you're obedient, you get a treat. If you resist, you pay the price.

The bodyguards had already closed in, their presence a silent threat.

I gripped the pen, my fingertips turning white from the force.

"Fine."

I lowered my head and signed my name on the document.

Clara snatched the paper. "Killian, you're so good to me."

Killian patted her waist indulgently, then looked at me, his tone laced with a satisfied, patronizing generosity.

"That's more like it. Go change, Sera. This red dress is dirty. I don't like it."

He thought he had the situation under control again. He thought I was still the same fiancée who would obediently fall in line the moment he offered a way out.

He turned to leave, his arm around Clara. "Let's go. Let's get some air on the deck."

"Hold on."

I threw the pen down. My voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet cabin.

Killian stopped and looked back at me, his brow furrowed, as if my defiance was starting to annoy him. "What now? My patience has its limits."

"Since you think the last game was too violent for me."

I slowly stood up, and in front of everyone, I ripped the hem of my expensive red dress.

Rrrrip.

The silk tore, revealing the black tactical holster strapped to my thigh and the cold, hard pistol nestled within it.

The entire cabin fell silent.

Killian's gaze fell to my leg, his expression turning ugly.

"I bet my birthright as heir to the Russo family. I bet all my future assets."

I met his gaze, stepping out from the shadows of the gambling table.

"We won't bet on luck. We'll bet on marksmanship."

I pointed to the far end of the yacht's deck, at a playing card fluttering in the wind fifty meters away.

"One shot each. If you win, I'll jump from here. My life will be yours."

"But if I win..."

I raised a hand and pointed to the inky black, shark infested waters of the high seas.

"You will both jump. And you will promise me one thing."

Leo sucked in a sharp breath. "She's lost it. Miss Seraphina, Killian is a three time champion at the shooting club. Please, don't joke around."

After hearing me out, Killian didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed.

"Interesting." He turned back, his interest now fully piqued, his eyes roaming over my body without restraint. "I never knew you had this wild side, Sera."

He didn't think for a second that I could win. He saw it as a new trick to get his attention, and he even found this rebellious side of me alluring.

"Fine, I accept." Killian took the long barreled revolver from his bodyguard, raising an eyebrow in confidence. "Since you want to play something thrilling, it's my duty as your fiancé to indulge you. Just don't cry when you lose."

The large group moved out onto the open deck.

The sea wind howled. Fifty meters away, a playing card was just a blurry white dot in the darkness.

Killian held the gun with one hand. He didn't even need to aim for long, a confidence born from talent and years of practice.

"Watch closely, baby," he said, winking back at me. "This shot is to teach you what a professional looks like."

A gunshot rang out. The spotter in the distance raised his binoculars and shouted, "A perfect bullseye on the Ace of Hearts! Right through the heart!"

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

"The Boss is a master marksman, no question."

Clara clung to Killian's arm in adoration. "Killian, you're amazing! Maybe we should just stop. I'm afraid for Sera's life. The open sea is so cold, after all."

Killian lowered his gun, blew the smoke from the muzzle, and walked over to me, looking down at me. "Alright, Sera. I can pretend your bet was just a fit of anger. Concede now, come over and kiss me, and this whole thing will be over."

I walked past him without a word and took my position at the firing line.

I took the gun, still warm from his touch, directly from his hand.

"This is a nice gun," I said softly.

Then, I turned and raised it.

The movement was a fluid, swift blur, one born from a million practice runs.

For ten years, to cater to his preference for a woman without a violent streak, I had never fired a gun in front of him.

But these things were muscle memory, etched into my very bones.

BANG.

The gunshot was clean and sharp. Faster than his. More ruthless.

Everyone looked towards the distant target.

The Ace of Hearts was still pinned there, seemingly unchanged.

"Did she miss?" someone whispered.

Just as Clara was about to let out a mocking laugh, the spotter, still holding his binoculars, froze.

"Hey! Say something!" Killian shouted, his brow furrowed.

The spotter slowly lowered his binoculars and turned around, his voice trembling. "This is impossible!"