The air was thick with smoke and whiskey, the dim light casting flickering shadows over the five men at the table. Poker chips clinked softly as cards slid across the worn wooden surface.

I stood in the corner, silent, watching.

These men were not ordinary players. They were killers, thieves—men who built their power on blood and fear. Among them sat Mattheo, different from the rest. Calculated, dangerous, but controlled. Not like Vincenzo, the grinning Mafia boss who ruled through cruelty.

Vincenzo took a slow drag from his cigar, eyes scanning the table before settling on me. “We’ve been playing safe,” he mused. “Let’s raise the stakes.”

The others exchanged wary glances.

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” one asked.

Vincenzo smirked. “Her.” His gaze didn’t leave me. “Winner takes her.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. My pulse pounded, but I didn’t flinch. I had seen this before—men treating me like a prize to be won.

Mattheo’s fingers tightened around his cards. “That’s a dangerous bet,” he said calmly.

Vincenzo chuckled darkly. “Not for me. I don’t lose.”

The next hand was dealt. The tension in the room was suffocating. One by one, players folded, leaving only two: Vincenzo and Mattheo.

Vincenzo’s grin widened. He shoved all his chips forward. “All in.”

Mattheo’s eyes stayed locked on him. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed his stack in. “Call.”

The cards flipped.

Vincenzo had a full house. He laughed, already reaching for the pot—and for me.

But Mattheo remained unfazed. “Not so fast.”

He laid down his hand. A straight flush.

Silence.

Vincenzo’s grin faded. His fingers dug into the table, rage simmering beneath the surface.

Mattheo stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He turned to me, extending his hand, his dark eyes steady. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

He hadn’t just won the game.

He had won me.