Vincent stepped out of the casino into the bright midday sun. Four guards moved with him in a tight formation. He didn't hurry. He never did. The street was busy with tourists and locals, but his presence cut through the crowd. People moved out of his way without realizing why.
A single rifle shot cracked from a distant rooftop.
The bullet whipped past his head — close, but not close enough. It punched into the brick wall ten feet away, sending a harmless spray of dust into the air.
Vincent didn't flinch. He didn't even break stride.
"Amateur," he said.
Gabriel was already moving, his massive frame stepping in front of Vincent like a human shield, but the big man looked more annoyed than worried. Lucian had his phone to his ear before the echo faded, giving quiet orders to track the shooter. The other guards scanned the rooftops with bored efficiency. This wasn't their first warning shot.
