Caught In The Wolf’s Den

The Royal Flush Casino was alive with noise—coins clinking, dice rolling, dealers calling bets, and drunken laughter blending into the heavy, intoxicating air. Red velvet drapes adorned the walls, gold chandeliers hung low, casting an ambient glow over the sea of gamblers. The rich and the reckless moved in and out of the betting tables, some desperate to win, others confident they owned the night.

And in the middle of it all, Ramona moved unnoticed.

Dressed in a sleek, short red gown with a small tray in her hand, she blended in perfectly with the real servers, maneuvering through the crowded room with ease. No one suspected her. They didn't know she was a journalist, a woman on a mission, a woman waiting for her prey.

Killian.

She didn't know what he looked like, but she would know when she saw him. The monster of Las Vegas. The mafia king who had murdered her father.

She swallowed, keeping her breathing steady. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she refused to let her emotions ruin her cover.

And then…

That feeling.

A presence.

She stiffened, the fine hairs on her arms rising.

Something—or someone—was here. She didn't know what it was, but she was feeling the exact same way she felt that night.

Could that thing talking to her in the shadows have followed her?.

She knew whatever was in here with her wasn't like human. It was different.

Not a normal person. Not a regular criminal. Not a gambler or stalker.

She had to find Killian, get the recording and get the hell outta here.

Her fingers tightened around the tray, but she forced herself to keep moving. She was close.

She had told Andrew to wait outside for her, in his mini-van, and if she wasn't out in 2 hours, he should come looking for her.

One thing she knew was, nothing, absolutely nothing was stopping her for getting what she wanted that night.

And then, as if on cue, the double doors of the casino swung open, and the energy in the room shifted.

A group of men walked in. Seven of them. Armed. Dangerous. Cold.

Ramona's breath hitched.

At the center of them was a man like no other.

He looked like their leader.

Dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his powerful frame, his mere presence commanded attention. His dark, piercing eyes scanned the room, absorbing everything, missing nothing. His jet-black hair was slicked back, exposing sharp, defined features. His broad shoulders moved with an effortless power, and when he walked, men moved out of his way.

Ramona watched him closely.

And then she saw it.

The scar.

A deep, jagged mark running down the side of his neck.

There was no doubt.

It's him.

Her fingers trembled as she reached into the folds of her dress and turned on her small hidden camera. She needed proof. She needed to expose him.

But before she could take a step, Killian and his men made their way to the high-stakes table, where another man was already seated.

A man she recognized instantly.

Rico. Another dangerous man in the mafia. He was a rapist, a human trafficker, but due to his influences, he was never caught red handed.

"Oh, how I wish Andrew was here. How was I going to handle them both?". She thought .

Killian's rival, wasn't a man to be tampered with. He was as dangerous as Killian. The man who controlled another part of the Las Vegas underground.

The tension at the table was suffocating.

The two men locked eyes, and a slow smirk curled at the corner of Killian's lips.

"Rico," he drawled, sitting across from him. He leaned back, completely at ease, as if this was nothing more than a friendly poker game.

Rico, however, was stiff, his expression unreadable. "Killian."

Killian's smirk widened. "I thought you'd be long dead by now."

Rico exhaled through his nose. "I could say the same about you. But then again, cowards always find a way to survive."

Killian chuckled, low and amused. "Cowards? You're talking about me? The same man who built an empire from the ground up, while you—" he scoffed, shaking his head, "—you sit in your little corner, doing business like a weak man."

Rico's jaw tightened.

"You never had the stomach for this life, Rico," Killian continued, his voice dark, taunting. "You let your men disrespect you. You let your enemies breathe. That's why your empire is crumbling while mine is thriving."

"I don't slaughter innocents the way you do."

"Innocents?" Killian let out a cruel laugh.

"There's no such thing in our world. Everyone is guilty of something." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "And that's why you'll never be more than a disgrace."

Rico clenched his fists.

Killian wasn't just here to play games. He was here to end him.

Ramona was frozen, her camera recording every word.

But before she could get closer—

Gunshots rang out.

Screams erupted.

The entire casino descended into chaos.

People ducked, ran, shoved, trying to escape as Killian's men pulled out their weapons.

Ramona's heart pounded.

Then it happened.

He smelled her.

Amidst the gunfire, amidst the chaos, a scent sliced through the air—intoxicating, familiar, impossible to ignore.

Killian's head snapped up.

His eyes darkened.

She was here.

His wolf growled inside him, clawing at the surface.

And then he saw her.

Standing there. Frozen.

Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto his.

His mate.

Mine.

A slow, devilish smirk crept onto his lips.

And before she could run—

Her body betrayed her.

Her vision blurred. Her knees buckled.

And then—

Darkness.