Chapter 8

I watched as my men, following my orders, immediately grabbed a knife and pinned Dane's hand to the table.

Dane lost control of his bladder and bowels in terror. He wailed, looking towards Draven.

"Dad! Save me! I'm your only son!"

"If I lose my hand, I'll end it all! Who'll take care of you in your old age then?"

Draven's face was a mask of barely contained emotion. His hand trembled as he gritted his teeth and looked at me.

I knew he was about to snap.

But I just watched him with fascination, curious to see what he would do.

Seeing no room for negotiation on my end, Draven stood up, pulled a gun from his waist, and aimed it at my forehead.

"Since you insist on hurting my son, don't blame me for forgetting our history."

He glanced around and shouted:

"Now!"

In an instant, every one of his men in the casino drew their guns and aimed at me. The sound of rounds being chambered filled the air.

His son, now rescued, looked at me smugly.