The private jet landed smoothly at McCarran International Airport, the golden glow of Las Vegas shining in the distance. From the moment they stepped out, Mirshad and Sophia could feel the energy of the city—bright lights, loud laughter, and the scent of money being made and lost.
Sophia was mesmerized by the neon-lit streets, the grand casinos, and the sheer madness of Vegas nightlife.
Mirshad, however, remained calm as always—the man who had everything, yet desired nothing.
Hand in hand, they walked into The Monarch Casino, a place where only the world's richest and most dangerous people played.
They took their seats in the VIP poker room—a private space reserved for the elite. The table was filled with billionaires, mafia bosses, and underground tycoons.
Mirshad sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable, while Sophia watched beside him, sipping her wine.
The game began.
One by one, the others fell.
Mirshad didn't even try—he barely looked at his cards, yet kept winning.
His opponents were sweating, adjusting their ties, whispering among themselves.
The casino owner, a sharp-eyed man named Valentino Moretti, watched from the balcony, his jaw tightening. This wasn't just luck—this man was either a god… or a devil.
By the end of the night, Mirshad had won over $500 million.
Moretti finally spoke.
"Mr. Mirshad, I must say… you're an interesting player."
Mirshad leaned back, smiling.
"I don't play for money."
Moretti's eyes darkened.
"Then what do you play for?"
Mirshad's gaze turned ice-cold.
"For fun."
The room fell silent.
The other players sat frozen, realizing they had just gambled against someone who didn't even care about the money.
Sophia whispered, amused, "You broke their spirits without even trying."
Mirshad chuckled.
But Moretti wasn't laughing.
He had built this casino on power and intimidation. No one walked away richer than him.
As they were leaving, Moretti approached with a forced smile.
"We always treat our VIP winners well. Allow me to host a special dinner for you both."
Sophia instinctively tightened her grip on Mirshad's arm. She sensed something was wrong.
Mirshad gave her a reassuring look before turning to Moretti.
"A dinner? I'd love to."
Moretti's smile widened, but his eyes held something dark.
"Perfect. It's a private venue, just for the special guests."
Sophia whispered, "This is a trap."
Mirshad smirked, replying softly, "I know. I'm just wondering if I should let them live after."
They were escorted to a secluded penthouse suite inside the casino.
A long dining table was set, but there was no food—only men.
Moretti sat at the head, flanked by ten of his best armed assassins.
Sophia tensed.
Mirshad simply took a seat.
Moretti leaned forward, swirling his wine.
"You see, Mr. Mirshad, I run this city. And in my city, no one walks away with my money."
Mirshad smirked.
"Correction. It was never yours."
The air grew heavy.
Moretti's hand signaled—his men pulled out their guns.
Sophia's heartbeat quickened.
Moretti chuckled.
"Here's the deal, Mr. Mirshad. You will return every cent you won tonight, and you and your pretty girl can leave in one piece."
Mirshad tilted his head.
"And if I refuse?"
Moretti's eyes gleamed.
"Then you both leave in a body bag."
A moment of silence.
Then—
BOOM.
Before anyone could react, Mirshad moved.
One second, he was sitting.
The next, he was standing on the other side of the room—his chair flipping back.
Two men were already down, their guns shattered.
Moretti blinked.
"What the fu—"
CRACK.
Mirshad grabbed the nearest assassin and threw him straight into the marble wall.
Bones shattered.
Another man raised his gun.
Too slow.
Mirshad dodged, snatched the gun mid-air, and crushed it in his hand.
One by one, they fell.
Within seconds, Moretti was alone.
He stared at the wreckage—his men groaning, unconscious, broken.
Mirshad approached him slowly, his aura suffocating.
Moretti tried to reach for his pistol—
SMASH.
Mirshad grabbed Moretti by the throat and lifted him effortlessly.
Moretti gasped, his feet dangling.
Mirshad's voice was low, dangerous.
"You made three mistakes."
One finger up.
"You thought I play for money."
Two fingers.
"You pointed a gun at me."
Three fingers.
"You threatened my woman."
Sophia watched silently, her heart racing—not out of fear, but admiration.
Mirshad's grip tightened.
"You don't run this city anymore."
Moretti coughed, struggling.
"W-Who… Who the hell are you?"
Mirshad leaned in, whispering:
"The last man you should have crossed."
And with that—
CRACK.
Mirshad snapped Moretti's wrist and let him crumble to the floor.
Moretti screamed in agony, holding his broken hand.
Mirshad kneeled beside him, his voice calm, final.
"You're lucky. I'm walking away."
Moretti whimpered, nodding.
Mirshad stood, took Sophia's hand, and walked out without looking back.
They stepped into the elevator, the city lights glowing behind them.
Sophia exhaled.
"You could have killed them all."
Mirshad smirked.
"I could have. But I didn't need to."
She shook her head, amazed.
"You don't even have to fight anymore, do you?"
Mirshad pulled her close, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"No. But sometimes, I like to remind people."
Sophia smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"And remind me why I chose you."
Mirshad leaned down, whispering:
"Because no one else could ever touch you."
Their lips met in a deep kiss as the elevator doors closed.
Las Vegas had just learned the hard way—
MRD was never to be challenged.