Page 41 of No Mistakes (No Mercy #2)

ANT

By the time we roll into Vegas, the girls are already ahead of us. Safer that way. Less chance of drawing eyes if we don’t all move as one pack. They checked in first, having the chance to settle before everything unfolds.

It’s pushing seven when Flynn walks us through the back entrance of the Bellagio.

He handled check-in under the fake names, so no one at the desk clocks us.

I hang back, hood up, scanning the marble halls and glittering lights.

Tourists gawk at the chandeliers, snapping pictures like this place is heaven, completely unaware of what’s crawling underneath.

Flynn hands out the keys as the elevator doors slide shut. “Alright, everyone’s on the same floor,” he says, lowering his voice. “If anything happens, we’re close to move fast. We’ve got a few hours before it’s go time, so shower, eat, sleep-whatever you need.”

Carter twirls the keycard between his fingers. “What time are we regrouping?”

Axel doesn’t miss a beat. “Mandy needs to be in the room by ten. That means we move just before. She’ll be there alone, but the mic will keep her tethered to us. One wrong sound, one wrong move, and we pull her out.”

The words hang heavy in the cramped area. Nobody argues, but the thought digs inside me like a blade.

Mandy. Alone. In that room. With men who’d pay fortunes just to put their hands on what doesn’t belong to them.

The metal walls feel tighter, the air too thin. My jaw clenches until I hear the quiet pop of bone. The thought of her being surrounded, their eyes crawling over her, makes my blood run hot. If they so much as look at her the wrong way, I’ll burn the whole place down.

Axel’s still talking, steady and cold, but all I hear is the rush of my own pulse. I know what’s expected of me tonight. Calm. Sharp. Calculated. But right now, every instinct in me screams to drag her out of this plan, lock her in my room, and make damn sure none of them ever touch her.

I stay silent, keeping my thoughts to myself, because this isn’t about her, no matter how much I hate it. No, tonight is bigger, and it always has been.

The doors open and my brothers step out, but Axel hangs back, watching me. “You need to get out of that head of yours, brother,” he says, holding the doors open with one hand. His voice is steady, but his eyes pin me like he already knows where my mind went.

My jaw works, but I don’t answer. What the fuck am I supposed to say? That every scenario running through my head ends with Mandy’s blood on the floor if I’m not fast enough? That I’d rather slit every throat in that room than let her walk into it alone?

Axel leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “You let fear run you, you’re dead before you even walk in. Mandy’s tougher than you give her credit for. You focus on your job, let her do hers. That’s how we win tonight.”

His words land sharp, not comforting but cutting through the war in my head. He gives me one last look, the kind only a brother can, before stepping out, and I follow him, letting the doors slide shut after us.

The hallway is hushed, the kind of quiet only expensive hotels manage, the carpet silencing every footstep.

My brothers move ahead, voices low as they split off towards their rooms. I hang back, keycard tight in my hand, each door I pass reminding me that in a few hours, all of this calm will be gone.

My room sits at the end of the hall. I swipe the card, pushing the door open, and step inside. I drop my bag on a chair, shutting the door behind me, and let the silence swallow me whole.

The weight of it hits immediately, no Mandy, no Axel barking orders. Just me and the four walls. My chest tightens like the quiet itself is pressing in, demanding I think about everything I’ve been avoiding.

I unzip the garment bag, pulling my suit free and hanging it on the closet door. I stand back, admiring the suit. Black. Formal. Smart. My chest tightens like the quiet itself is pressing in, demanding everything I hold inside to break free.

For a second, I see the flames of my house, the night everything burned. My mother’s voice, playing in my head as she urged me to go out with my brothers, to take a break, to live. I never saw her again, and guilt coils in my gut, same as it always does.

I drag in a breath, forcing it down. I grab my phone from my pocket, thumb hovering over Mandy’s name. My chest feels too tight, thoughts too loud, but maybe if I see her words, I’ll breathe easier. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter. I just need her.

I type before I can talk myself out of it.

Me: You in your room?

Three dots pop up almost immediately, and my pulse jumps.

Mandy: Yeah. Eva’s hogging the bathroom like she’s auditioning for a shampoo commercial. Why?

The corner of my mouth twitches. Even when she’s serious, she still manages to pull me out of the darkness. I lean against the headboard on my bed, phone tight in my grip as I type again.

Me: Just checking.

Mandy: Liar You’re pacing holes in your floor, aren’t you?

I glance at the suit hanging on the door, the ghost of my mother’s voice still lingering in my head. She’s not wrong.

Me: Maybe

Mandy: Ant… you can’t carry all of this alone. You know that, right?

Her words cut deeper than Axel’s pep talk ever could. Because she sees me, not the job, not the plan, but me. I run a hand over my face, debating what to say, how much to give her.

The room is quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that makes old ghosts louder. I lean my head back, gazing at the ceiling before replying to Mandy.

Me: I can’t stop thinking about her tonight.

Mandy: Her? Should I be worried?

A corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. I type slower this time.

Me: My mom. The night they died.

Dots appear, vanish, then appear again as if she’s thinking of the right thing to say.

Mandy: Ant… She’d be proud of you, y’know. You’re not the boy you once were. You’re the man who’s about to make sure nobody gets hurt again.

My throat goes tight, and I stare at the screen until it blurs. She always finds a way to cut straight through me, even if she’s not in the room.

Me: You shouldn’t have to walk into that room tonight.

Mandy: And you shouldn’t have had to live through whatever happened to you. But we don’t get to pick our demons, Ant. We just fight them.

I sit there, reading her words over and over again, but for the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel crushing.

Me: Stay alive for me, trouble.

Mandy: Only if you promise the same.

I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist, while I wipe another through my hair. Steam clings to the mirror in the room, outside of the bathroom, blurring the man staring back at me.

The suit hangs from the wardrobe door, black pressed lines, crisp shirt, polished shoes waiting below, my mask next to them on the floor.

A sharp knock arrives on the door, and I walk over, looking through the peephole to see Axel standing there, checking his watch. I unlock the latch, and he walks in, his expression tight.

“Forty minutes,” he says, stepping aside for me to shut the door. “We leave in forty.”

I nod, but his eyes don’t leave me. He studies me for a second before pacing the edge of the room, glancing at the suit, then back at me.

“I see the way you look at her. At Mandy.” His words take me by surprise.

“It’s the same way I look at Eva. Like if anyone lays a hand on her, you’ll bury them without thinking twice. ”

The words stick in my throat, but nothing comes out.

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “I get it. I do. But tonight isn’t about feelings, it’s about precision.

If you go in there distracted, we all bleed.

She bleeds.” His hands clamp down on my shoulder, hard enough to make sure it sticks.

“So whatever you’ve got for her, you hold it steady.

Channel it into control. Because if this goes sideways, she won’t make it out without you. ”

The weight of his words settles heavily on my chest, but it sharpens me at the same time. He lets go, checking his watch once more. “Get dressed. We don’t get second chances tonight.” Then he’s gone, the door clicking behind him.

I pull the suit free, sliding into it piece by piece, the silence in the room growing smaller by the minute. Shirt. Tie. Jacket. The man staring back at me in the mirror isn’t the same one who walked out of the shower; it’s a soldier, sharpened and ready.

Another knock arrives on the door, softer this time, and my chest tightens before I even open it. I don’t need to check who it is, because inside, I know it’s her.

Mandy stands framed by the hallway light, wrapped in a dress that shouldn’t exist outside of sin itself.

The dress hangs off her shoulders, dipping low to reveal the delicate line of her collarbone, her necklace catching the glow with every subtle movement.

Her lips are painted to match, deep crimson that should be illegal, and her hair falls in perfect waves down her back like she walked straight out of a fantasy I’ve had no right to dream of.

Something twists hard in my stomach. Not nerves, not fear. Something else. It’s weightless and heavy all at once, a rush that makes me feel like I’m seventeen again and seeing her for the first time.

“You clean up well,” she says softly, her smile tilting like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I can’t find the words, so I just step aside, letting her in, hoping she doesn’t notice the way my chest closes at the sight of her.

She walks past me, the sway of her dress brushing my thigh before she turns, facing me in the middle of the room. For a moment, neither of us says anything. The air feels different, like time itself has slowed down just for us.

I take a step towards her, my hand lifts, brushing her hair behind her ear. My thumb lingers at her jaw, tracing the line of her cheek. She tilts into the touch, and that movement alone undoes me.

“You’re shaking,” she whispers.

“Not from fear,” I say softly, leaning my forehead to hers. My hands move, framing her face, holding her as if she’s something fragile in a world that only knows how to break. “From you.”

Her breath hitches, and then she smiles-small, sweet, and so damn beautiful it feels like she’s branded me with it.

We stand there for a long moment, forehead to forehead, the shadows of the night ahead waiting outside that door. But in here, with her, it’s quiet. Safe.

I tilt her head back, looking into her eyes before closing the space between us. My lips press against hers in a kiss that’s nothing like the roughness we’ve known before. No, this is slow. Soft. Like I’m telling her all the things I don’t have the guts to say.

When I pull back, her eyes stay closed for a second, like she’s holding onto this moment too.

Her eyes flutter open, her eyes piercing. “I’ll say it again, Ant. You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

I huff a quiet laugh, the sound rough in my chest. “With you standing in front of me like this? I don’t think I’ve got a choice.”

Her smile widens just enough to light me up from the inside, and she presses a hand against my chest, right over my heart. “Then just… Come back to me tonight. That’s all I want.”

I cover her hand with mine, holding it there like I can anchor both of us to this one moment. I can’t promise her safety, not in this world, but I can promise her this. “Always.” I rasp.

I grab my jacket and her hand, lacing our fingers together as I lead her out of the room and down the hallway. Every step we take leads us closer to the storm waiting for us.

When we reach the secured suite where my brothers wait, I stop just outside the door.

My thumb strokes over her knuckles once more before letting her go.

Her eyes search mine, wide, brave, and terrified all at once.

I lean down, pressing my lips to her forehead in one last silent promise.

Then I open the door, guiding her into the room where the rest of our family waits.