Dante and Leo exchanged a glance.
Because if Jillian was right—Victor just walked away with a fake USB.
Jillian stood still, her fingers still tingling from Victor's grip. She had lost the USB—on purpose.
Dante paced, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me you have something up your sleeve, because right now, that looked like a complete disaster."
Leo leaned against a metal beam, arms crossed. "Yeah, what's your plan, Jillian?"
Jillian exhaled, turning to them with a smirk. "Victor thinks he won. Let him. The real evidence is still safe."
Dante narrowed his eyes. "That was a fake USB?"
Jillian nodded. "A decoy. I wanted to see how he'd react, and he took the bait. Now, he'll be busy trying to figure out what's on it."
Leo's lips curled into a grin. "Smart. If he thinks he has the upper hand, he won't be looking for the real thing."
Dante crossed his arms. "Okay, fine. But what now? He's still a threat."
Jillian's eyes darkened. "Now, we make our next move before he realizes he's been played."
After they left the abandoned warehouse, Dante Cruz decided to teach Jillian Smith how to fight .
Jillian stood in the dimly lit training room, her fists clenched, sweat trickling down her forehead. Dante circled her, his sharp eyes watching her every move.
"You're too stiff," he said, dodging her punch with ease. "Loosen up. Fighting isn't just about throwing punches—it's about control."
Leo leaned against the wall, smirking. "And about not getting knocked out, which, by the way, you're dangerously close to right now."
Jillian scowled. "Less talking, more teaching."
Dante chuckled before lunging at her. She barely had time to react before he swept her legs, sending her crashing onto the mat.
"Again," he ordered.
Gritting her teeth, Jillian got up. This time, she adjusted her stance, watching Dante closely. When he moved, she dodged—not perfectly, but better.
Leo whistled. "There you go. Maybe there's hope for you after all."
Jillian smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. "You guys better hope you're not on the receiving end when I get good at this."
Dante smirked. "We'll see about that. Now, let's go again."
For the next few hours, they drilled her—punches, dodges, kicks, and how to anticipate an opponent's next move. By the time they finished, Jillian was exhausted, but determined.
She was getting stronger.
And soon, she'd be ready for whatever came next.
After hours of training, Jillian sat on the worn-out couch in the hideout, wrapping her bruised knuckles. Her muscles ached, but she wasn't stopping—not yet.
Dante tossed her a bottle of water. "Not bad, rookie. But don't think one day of training makes you invincible."
Jillian smirked. "Don't worry, I plan on getting better."
Leo, who had been typing on his laptop, suddenly spoke. "We've got a problem."
Jillian and Dante turned toward him.
"Victor isn't wasting time. He's meeting with someone tomorrow night. Someone big." Leo's expression darkened. "I don't know who yet, but whatever this is—it's serious."
Jillian leaned forward. "Where's the meeting?"
Leo glanced at her. "A high-end casino in the city. The kind of place you don't just walk into unless you're rich, powerful, or both."
Dante sighed. "And let me guess—we're none of the above?"
Leo smirked. "Not yet. But if we want to find out what Victor's up to, we'll need a way in."
Jillian's eyes gleamed with determination. "Then let's get to work."
The hideout was buzzing with tension as Jillian, Dante, and Leo gathered around the laptop screen. The casino's security layout flashed before them—a fortress of high-tech surveillance and armed guards.
"This isn't just a place where people go to gamble," Leo muttered, scrolling through the blueprints. "Victor wouldn't risk meeting here unless he was sure no one could touch him."
Dante folded his arms. "So how do we get in?"
Jillian leaned closer, her mind racing. "We don't break in—we blend in."
Leo raised a brow. "And how exactly do we do that? This place is crawling with VIPs. We'd stand out in a second."
Jillian smirked. "Then we become VIPs."
Dante scoffed. "You planning on robbing a bank to afford that kind of entrance?"
She shook her head. "Not necessary. Every elite casino has its weaknesses—corrupt staff, greedy players, and high-stakes games. If we play this right, we won't just get in. We'll own the place for the night."
Leo's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I might have a way to forge an invite, but it won't get us past security checks."
Dante cracked his knuckles. "Then we make sure security is looking the other way when we walk in."
Jillian's smirk deepened. "Looks like we have a game to play."
The grand casino was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses, murmured conversations, and the occasional roar of a jackpot winner. Golden chandeliers illuminated the polished marble floors, casting a glow over the elite patrons draped in expensive suits and shimmering gowns.
Jillian adjusted the sleek dress Leo had managed to acquire for her. She hated the way it clung to her, but tonight, appearances mattered. They weren't here to fight—they were here to outplay Victor Holloway at his own game.
Dante, dressed in a tailored black suit, leaned close. "Security's watching the entrance, but Leo's hack should give us a clean window."
Leo, disguised as a waiter, whispered through the earpiece. "You're inside. Now comes the hard part—getting Victor to notice you without getting caught."
Jillian's gaze locked onto the VIP section. Victor sat at a private poker table, surrounded by powerful figures. This wasn't just a game of cards—it was a silent war of influence.
Taking a deep breath, she strode toward the high-stakes table. A dealer glanced at her, then at Victor.
"We have a new challenger," the dealer announced.
Victor's cold eyes met hers, a flicker of amusement dancing behind them. "Interesting. Let's see if you can keep up, little girl."
Jillian smirked, taking a seat. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready to win."
The game had begun. And Jillian had no intention of losing.
The poker table was bathed in golden light, the scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey lingering in the air. Victor Holloway leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk curling his lips as he shuffled his chips. Across from him, Jillian met his gaze with unwavering confidence, her fingers lightly tapping the table.
"Buy-in is five million," the dealer announced.
Jillian slid a black chip forward, a token Leo had forged. The dealer scanned it, then nodded. She was in. The game was no longer about money—it was about survival.
The first few rounds passed in tense silence. Jillian played cautiously, winning just enough to keep her in the game but not enough to draw suspicion. Victor was watching her, testing her, waiting for her to make a mistake.
Dante stood nearby, blending in with the other wealthy onlookers, a glass of whiskey in hand. Through the earpiece, Leo's voice was steady. "Security hasn't caught on yet, but keep him distracted. I'm working on accessing the private security feed."