Nothing changed after she said no.
That was what made it worse.
Raven stayed seated across from Vincent, knife still gripped tight in her hand, angled low against the table. The blade hovered near Vincent's throat, no longer raised, no longer pressing, but not gone either. The dried blood from his throat had crusted dark on his skin. He still hadn't wiped it away. Like it didn't even bother him.
Her pulse thundered, loud in the heavy silence. The sticky patches from the two guards she'd killed earlier pulled tight every time she breathed.
Seven men surrounded them. She tracked every single one.
Gabriel stood like a wall, eyes flicking between Vincent and the room. Lucian watched her without blinking, sharp and cold. Adrian leaned against a nearby table, that lazy smile playing on his lips like he was enjoying the show. Sebastian fiddled with his cuff, pretending to be bored while his eyes missed nothing. Dante hadn't moved, arms crossed, staring straight at her like he was already imagining snapping her neck. Matteo scanned everything in silence, calculating. And Leonid — cold at her back, close enough that the hairs on her neck stayed raised. Silent. Deadly.
None of them spoke. None needed to. They just waited.
Vincent sat steady as ever, fingers lightly adjusting the card on the table. The one that kept showing up like a sick joke.
"They needed a reason," he said. His voice slid through the room without effort. "You were placed where it would be seen."
Raven didn't answer right away. Let the words sink in while her free hand pressed flat against her thigh, stopping the tremble.
"Direct target. No complications." Vincent brushed the edge of the card again. "That should have been your first concern."
"You're trying to twist it," she shot back, voice low and rough. "Doesn't change shit. They sent me to kill you."
He tilted his head, dark eyes never leaving hers. "No. It doesn't change the order. But it changes what the order was meant to trigger."
Her stomach turned. Hard. Something cold and empty opened in her chest — like a weight had dropped in and wasn't moving.
She tightened her grip on the knife until the handle dug into her palm. Pain helped. It grounded her and she needed it.
"Your arrival wasn't unexpected," Vincent continued.
"That's not new," she snapped. "You're not exactly hard to find."
His gaze didn't waver. "They made sure of it."
The words landed heavier than she expected. Her breath caught for half a second.
Lucian stepped forward just enough. "Transmission came through on a Caruso channel. Two days before you entered the city."
Matteo added, voice flat, "It wasn't a leak. It was intentional. No ambiguity."
Raven exhaled slow through her nose, but her heartbeat kicked harder. They weren't guessing. They were stating facts. Facts they shouldn't have.
Vincent leaned back, creating more space between them without giving up control. "They needed a reason. For movement. For pressure. For something that forces the other families to respond."
Her fingers twitched around the knife before she locked them down. Heat crawled up her throat, anger and underneath it something uglier. The idea that her own people had thrown her to the wolves made her want to scream. Or laugh. Or drive the blade into Vincent's throat just to feel something solid.
"If you succeed," Vincent said evenly, "they gain leverage."
He paused. Let the silence hold.
"If you fail..."
He left it hanging. The threat didn't need finishing.
Raven's mouth went dry. The knife felt heavier in her hand. The dried blood on her dress itched against her thigh. She could still smell the metallic tang from the hallway kills.
"You weren't meant to leave here," he added.
"You don't know that," she said, and her voice cracked just a little.
Vincent watched her for a long moment. Then he reached to the side of the table and pulled a document free. He set it down between them with a soft thud.
White paper. Black text. A document that had been prepared and waiting.
"There's a way to stop it."
Her eyes snapped up to his. Every breath came like broken glass. "What is it."
He didn't push the paper closer. Didn't gesture. Just held her gaze.
"It requires you."
The air in the room thickened. All seven men adjusted their weight. No one moved in. Everyone locked.
Her free hand curled into a fist under the table. Nails digging into her palm. Dampness beaded on her forehead.
"Then say it," she growled.
Vincent didn't hesitate. His voice stayed low, steady, dangerous.
"You marry me."
The words hit like a slap across the face.
For one stupid, breathless second, Raven's mind flashed with it — waking up next to him, his dark eyes on her every morning, his hands on her skin, that steady voice saying her name like he owned it. The image burned hot and wrong in her chest. Hate and something sickeningly close to want twisted together low in her belly. Heat climbed her skin without asking. Her body moved ahead of her mind.
Her grip on the knife slipped for half a second. The blade tapped lightly against the table before she caught it.
"No," she said. Clean. Sharp. Her voice came out rougher than she wanted.
Vincent nodded once. It was the nod of a man who had already priced in the answer.
He let the silence sit again. Heavy. Suffocating.
Then he leaned forward. "If you stay here, you die. If you leave, they use that. They get what they need either way."
Her stomach churned. The dress felt too tight. The carpet under her bare feet felt too soft, too real. She was trapped. Properly trapped.
"This is the only position where you choose anything," he said.
Raven's eyes flicked to the document, then back to him. Then to the card staring up at her like it knew every dirty secret.
"You think this gives me control?" she asked, voice low and shaking with barely held rage.
His mouth curved, cold and knowing. "No. It gives you a move."
She stared at the paper. At the card. At the dried blood on his throat that he still refused to acknowledge.
Her mind spun. Kill him now and die surrounded by his blades. Run and prove Caruso right — start the war they wanted. Or... this. Marry the man she came to kill. Sleep in his bed. Wear his name. Let him touch her.
The thought sent another unwanted rush through her body. Confusion and fury boiled together. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to lean across the table and see if his mouth tasted as dangerous as his eyes looked.
Her hand loosened around the knife. The blade lay flat against the table now, edge catching the light.
She didn't reach for the document. Didn't stand up. Didn't attack.
She just sat there, chest thundering, skin prickling, breath coming short and uneven while seven killers watched her every twitch.
Vincent stayed silent. Watching. Waiting.
The card caught the light. Sharp and waiting. And for the first time since she walked into this casino, Raven Caruso didn't know what the hell she was going to do next.