Page 53 of The Gentleman

Ninety seconds.

“Information.” Her palms were damp. “That’s the real currency here. Who has it, who needs it... who’s willing to kill for it.”

“Indeed.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I have all of yours.”

The dealer announced the next hand, dealing the cards. Korolov indicated he was out and reached for his phone, and Kat’s heart stuttered in her chest. Too soon.Sixty seconds shy of completion.

She shifted, nudging her clutch in her lap.

Korolov’s fingers froze. His gaze dropped to her lap. Rose to meet hers.

His expression changed—a glacial shift from curiosity to understanding.

He knew.

His gaze fell back to her clutch.

“How interesting.” He’d switched to Russian. His eyes went arctic, pupils contracting to pinpoints. His voice dropped to a velvet murmur. “I didn’t realize MI6 carried such sophisticated equipment.”

Kat smiled, unflinching—though her body was already bracing for what came next. “A girl has to be ready for anything,” she replied in flawless Russian.

“Indeed.” His voice turned silk over steel.

His hand shot forward, fingers closing around her wrist with bruising force. He applied pressure—not enough to cause a scene, but enough to demonstrate his ability to easily snap bone.

“Agent Landon,” he hissed, “You disappoint me.” His thumbnail pressed into the pulse point of her wrist, a small pain that promised greater ones to come.

She twisted her arm, breaking his grip. “Wrong woman.”

“Katarina.” His gaze was flat.

Kat lunged forward, snatching his phone just as Korolov’s hand slammed down. His knuckles cracked against the green felt.

“Bitch—”

The ceiling exploded.

White chemical foam erupted from hidden nozzles like a geyser, instantly blinding her. Toxic mist hit her lungs—stealing her breath.

Around her, screams pierced the air as bodies collided in the sudden chaos. Alarms shrieked. Emergency lights strobed red through the chemical fog.

“Get her!” Korolov’s roar cut through the pandemonium.

Kat’s eyes streamed tears. Every breath was fire. She couldn’t see two feet ahead—only writhing shadows and the glint of crystal glasses shattering against marble.

She staggered back from the table, his phone clutched in her fist.

Foam clung to her lashes, and the world dissolved into white chaos. Shapes lurched past her, designer gowns ripping, men in tuxedos stumbling blind.

Her throat burned, every breath was poison. Someone’s elbow cracked against her ribs. A woman’s heel caught her ankle, nearly sending her sprawling.

A thick arm materialized from the fog, fingers like steel cables clamping around her bicep. Kat twisted hard, driving her stiletto heel into the soft flesh behind his ankle. Her heel struck tendon—followed by a sickening pop. He screamed—high and animal—his grip releasing as he crumpled. She didn’t wait to see him fall.

She pressed forward, hands finding shoulders, torsos, and blind panic.

The double doors appeared like a mirage. She shoved through, stumbling into the hallway beyond, coughing hard, her dress streaked with white, arms powdered like a corpse. Her lungs scraped like rust. Every gasp scoured her throat.

Everything blurred, but the pain and the phone clenched against her heart.

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