Derek nodded, his eyes not leaving the two high-rollers whose argument was becoming more heated.
"Yeah, looks like one's accusing his opponent of cheating."
Cyrus sighed, the tension at the table thick. "Just what we need tonight," he said sarcastically.
The voices grew louder, drawing the attention of more patrons. "I saw you palming those dice!" One shouted, his face red with anger.
"You're out of your mind!" His opponent shot back, slamming his hand on the table. "I've been playing straight all night!"
His blue eyes narrowed as he watched the unfolding drama, calculating whether it might spill over.
Cyrus stood up, signaling subtly to the security guards positioned around the room. "Let's not let this get out of hand," he said to Derek.
And then it happened—a flash of metal as someone, driven by anger and desperation, pulled out a gun.
BANG!!!
The sharp crack of gunfire ripped through the casino's cacophony, instantly silencing the crowd.
In the chaos that followed, several shots rang out.
Patrons screamed and ducked for cover, while others, caught in the panic, tried desperately to flee the scene.
As the gunshots echoed away and the sounds of panic began to subcede, Cyrus quickly pulled his closest crew members together amidst the chaos.
"Lock down the exits," he ordered, his voice sharp and commanding. "I want everyone checked before they leave. No one gets out without being cleared."
His crew nodded and dispersed, moving with practiced efficiency.
Several bodies lay still among the debris, victims of the sudden outbreak of violence. The casino had turned into a scene of horror.
Cyrus accustomed to handling dangerous situations but always aiming to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.
"This kind of public violence was bad for business," he murmured.
He signaled to his crew, using prearranged signals to coordinate their response without needing to shout over the commotion.
They moved efficiently, securing the area around their boss and assessing the threat level while Cyrus himself kept an eye out for any further danger.
Meanwhile, Cyrus approached the scene of the shooting, his face set in a stern expression.
As he stepped over scattered chips and dodged overturned chairs, he spotted the casino's head of security rushing over, his face pale with shock.
"Mr. Cyrus, I'm sorry, I didn't see them bring in the guns," the security chief stammered, struggling to maintain his composure.
Cyrus fixed him with a cold gaze. "Your job isn't to apologize; it's to prevent this kind of mess. What happened here?"
"We... we checked them, I swear. They must have had them hidden really well," the security chief replied, his voice faltering under Cyrus's intense scrutiny.
"Not good enough. You're supposed to handle things like this," Cyrus snapped, his frustration evident. "Now, tell me, do we have any idea who they were?"
"We think they were from the Rivera cartel. They've been trying to muscle in on the territory," the security chief said, regaining a bit of his professional demeanor as he relayed the information.
Cyrulus's expression hardened at the mention of the Rivera cartel. "If the Riveras think they can come into my place and stir up trouble, they've got another thing coming," he muttered under his breath. Turning back to the security chief, he ordered, "Get the footage from tonight. I want names, faces—everything. We're going to make sure the cost of this little stunt is higher than they can handle."
"Yes, boss," the security chief nodded, relieved to have clear instructions and quickly moved to carry them out.
As Cyrus surveyed the scene, a crew member approached him, her expression somber. "Boss, should we stop the games tonight? Shut down for a while?"
Cyrus thought for a moment, his mind racing through the implications of the night's events. Finally, he shook his head. "No. Keep it running. We can't show weakness. Not now. Increase the security, double the checks. Make it clear we're still in control."
"Understood," she replied, turning to relay the instructions.
As the crew member walked away, Cyrus took one last look around the disarrayed casino floor.
As the evening wound down and the crowd thinned, Cyrus collected his winnings and stood, signaling to his crew.
"Time to call it a night," he said, a simple phrase that carried more weight to those who knew him well.
They left through a private door, leaving the casino's chaos behind.
The fun part of the night was over, but Cyrus' work never really ended. In his world, every interaction was a calculated step in a continuous play for power.
Not long after, Cyrus's informant approached him, a look of urgency on his face.
"Boss, I've got an interesting news. It's a little bit personal… it's about Beatrice Carter, the rich wife of your competitor, Atlas Hawk."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "What about her?"
The informant glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. "She's been exiled, far from civilization. Locked up in a psychiatric hospital," he whispered.
Cyrus chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "That Atlas is ruthless, isn't he?"
"That's the way it is, sir," the informant nodded solemnly.
"Let's go rescue her then!" Cyrus declared abruptly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
The informant looked puzzled. "Why would we do that, sir?"
"Just to annoy Atlas, of course." Cyrus laughed wickedly, the plan already forming in his mind.
The idea of turning Atlas's actions against him, of stepping into the mess just to unsettle his rival, appealed to Cyrus's sense of mischief and strategy.
It was not just about disrupting Atlas's plans but also about gaining leverage and perhaps learning something valuable that could be used against him in their ongoing turf war.
"Prepare a team. I want a discreet operation; get in, get her out, and let everyone know it was us," Cyrus instructed, his mind racing through the logistics.
"Understood, boss. I'll get our best on it right away," the informant said, already reaching for his phone to assemble the team.
As the informant walked away to set the plan into motion, Cyrus leaned back, his thoughts on the upcoming rescue.
Saving Beatrice was not just a slap in the face to Atlas—it was a chess move in their dangerous game, one that might just give Cyrus the upper hand for the next round of their silent battle.
*