Jerry wasn’t like the rest of them—not really. In a world where every handshake was a veiled threat and every grin hid a knife, Jerry stood out. Not perfect, not innocent, but better than most. And for a moment, I thought—if there can be wolves dressed as sheep, maybe, just maybe, there can be sheep dressed as wolves too. Even so, guilty by allegiance, unfortunately.

“I like you, Jerry,” I said, pulling him closer as I discreetly pressed the barrel of my gun against his ribs. “So I’m going to let you choose how this goes. You walk us through security nice and peaceful, and we have a polite chat with Cat. Or…”

“Or?” Jerry’s voice cracked.

“Or I shoot you here and we do it the fun way.”

“Tough decision,” he muttered, swallowing hard.

“Indeed.”

There was a pause, his eyes darting back to Barbara at the reception desk. “Can I ask a favor?”

I raised an eyebrow. “A favor?”

“See Barb over there?” He nodded toward her. “We’ve got… a thing. Office romance, you know? Bit of a will-they-won’t-they situation.”

I glanced at Barbara. She was diligently jotting notes in a logbook, blissfully unaware of the chaos brewing mere feet away.

“You must really like her,” I said, half-smiling. “Got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?”

Jerry shrugged sheepishly. “You have no idea.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Alright, Jerry. What’s the plan?”

He shifted his weight, clearly nervous but thinking fast. “Maybe… I put up a bit of a fight. Can’t just let you in, even if you kill the bastard. I’d be marked a traitor. But if I give you a little resistance, you know… throw a punch or two—“

“I’m still going to have to shoot you,” I interrupted, my tone matter-of-fact. “Nothing I can do about that.”

“Fair,” he nodded solemnly. “Leg?”

“Reasonable,” I agreed.

Jerry exhaled, then glanced around the room. “Most of the guys on this floor—they’re just low-tier staff. Part-timers. Report to HR, fill out timecards and everything. They don’t know…”

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“I hear you,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”

Al shot me a look from across the room—one of those what the hell are you doing expressions. I gave him a quick nod that looked like follow my lead. Or at least, that’s what I hoped it looked like.

Jerry straightened up, squaring his shoulders.

“Ready?” I asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” He nodded, a flicker of reluctant determination crossing his face.

“Alright then.”

He nudged me, stepping back dramatically. “I won’t let you pass, sir!” he declared, loud enough for Barbara and half the lobby to hear.

Al sighed audibly.

Jerry hauled back and threw a punch at my face. It landed, and to his credit, it smarted. But when he went for a second, I dodged, grabbed him by the collar, and spun him toward the reception desk.

I fired, the shot echoing through the room as blood sprayed across the polished floor in a vivid arc. Jerry collapsed, clutching his right leg, a guttural groan escaping his lips as crimson seeped into the cracks of the marble.

Barbara screamed. Security guards surged forward, their weapons already drawn.

Al, ever the pragmatist, dropped the duffle bags and pulled out a shotgun, cocking it with a satisfying click.

“Legs,” I said, my tone flat.

Al shot me a look, the kind that said I’d just kicked his dog—or stolen his favorite toy.

“Legs,” I repeated, emphasizing it with a raised eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

The room erupted in chaos. I focused my shots, aiming low, kneecapping the guards where I could to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Al, less subtle but just as effective, cleared the way with his shotgun, each blast reverberating off the marble walls. Jerry, to his credit, dragged himself behind the reception desk, shielding Barbara with his body.

The guards dropped one by one, and we disarmed them. The lobby fell silent, save for the distant hum of the chandelier swaying overhead.

I sighed, squeezing off a shot that took out a goon’s knees, sending him howling to the floor. A quick follow-up knocked the gun clean out of his hand, clattering across the smooth floor.

“You think they’ve got a union? Decent medical benefits?” I asked, already lining up my next shot.

Al was mid-reload when a thug charged at him, yelling as if volume could make the difference. Without hesitation, Al swung his shotgun like a sledgehammer, catching the guy across the temple with a resounding crack. The thug crumpled instantly, out cold before he hit the floor.

I gave Al a look, my eyebrow arched high enough to touch the ceiling. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, slotting another shell into the chamber. “What? He’s fine. Just a little sleepy.”

We moved toward the back, where a heavy, reinforced door blocked access to the casino’s inner sanctum. Al set an explosive charge with practiced ease, stepping back as the device beeped ominously.

“Cover your ears,” he said.

I glanced at Jerry, and without a word, he reached over, gently covering Barb’s ears. We exchanged a quick nod.

The explosion ripped through the wall, smoke and debris filling the air. When it cleared, we stepped through into the stairwell beyond, the faint sound of muffled alarms echoing above us.

Al glanced at me as we ascended. “What was that back there? Why the theatrics?”

I smirked. “You’ve never been young and in love?”

“Never that in love.”