Chapter 34: "Tessa's Return" Marcus POV

I'm alone in the flat, sitting on the sofa, staring at the spot where Julian was before he stormed out. His words, "You lied to me, you git," are stuck in my head, loud and sharp, and I can't shake them. Claire's hospital bill, with "Too late" scrawled on it, sits on the table, mocking me, her jab, her hate, right here while I'm falling apart. My hands are shaky, and I'm still sore from the ambush, legs stiff, chest tight, but it's the guilt that's worse, heavy and cold. I confessed about the voucher, Victor's hush money, and now Jules is gone, and I'm wondering if I've lost him for good.

The flat's quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the neon buzzing outside, and I'm stuck, replaying it all. Three weeks ago, I kissed him, pulled him close over cheap whiskey, and it felt right, felt like home. Now it's shattered, and it's my fault, my past, my choices, dragging him into this mess with Claire and Victor. I rub my face, rough stubble scratching my palms, and I'm thinking, I've got to fix this, got to find a way back to him. But how? Claire's out there, close, and I'm alone, no plan, no fight left.

Then a bang hits the door, hard, loud, and I jump, heart slamming in my chest. I grab the bat from the corner, slow, creeping over, and peek through the blinds. It's Tessa, Tessa Vaughn, my ex, standing there, arms crossed, looking pissed. Her short hair's messy, jacket's creased, and I'm frozen, wondering why she's here. Another bang, and she yells, "Open up, Reid, I know you're in there!" My stomach twists, she's a PI now, tough as nails, and I haven't seen her since we split years back. I drop the bat, unlock the door, and she barges in, holding up a badge like it's a gun.

"You're in deep, Reid," she says, voice gruff, shoving the badge back in her pocket. "I'm chasing casino fraud, Victor Delaney's name popped up, and guess who's tied to him? You." She's staring at me, eyes sharp, and I step back, hands up. "Tessa, I didn't call you," I say, rough, but she cuts me off, dropping her bag on the table. "Don't care. I'm here, and I'm helping, whether you like it or not." My chest's tight, she's blunt, always was, and I'm glad, scared, all at once. Tessa's trouble, but she's good, maybe good enough to pull me out of this.

I sit, slow, on the sofa, and she pulls a chair close, leaning in. "Talk," she says, simple, and I swallow, feeling the weight. "It's bad," I start, voice low. "Victor, he's security chief at The Mirage. Years ago, I owed him, gambling debts, big ones. Gave me five grand to shut up about his slot scam. I gave it to Julian, my, my guy. Told him it was for rent." My hands rub my knees, and I look at her, guilty. "Claire wanted it, for her brother, Ethan, he's dying, and I said no. Now she's after us, set us up last night, nearly got us killed."

Tessa's quiet, listening, and I feel it, old stuff bubbling up, our past crashing in. We were together back then, messy, wild, before I ran to Vegas, before Julian. She nods, slow, and grabs a notebook from her bag, flipping it open. "Victor's slot scam, I've got leads on that," she says, scribbling. "Been digging into The Mirage for weeks, cash missing, machines rigged. That voucher ties it, dirty money, straight from him." My stomach drops, she's linking it, fast, and I'm thinking, Victor's scam, my choice, Claire's revenge, it's all one knot.

"You gave it to Julian," she says, looking up, "and Claire flipped?" I nod, heavy. "Yeah. She hates me, hates him too. Framed him for chip theft, got him sacked, and last night, ambush, alley off Fremont. Her text came right before." Tessa's pen stops, and she leans back, grim. "She's smart, desperate, but smart. Victor's covering his tracks, and she's using him." My hands tremble, and I'm seeing it, Claire's hospital bill, that shadow Jules saw, she's close, playing us both.

I stand, pacing, my boots scuffing the floor. "I messed up, Tess," I say, voice rough. "Julian's gone, walked out after I told him. Doesn't trust me now." She watches me, steady, and it's like old times, she knows me, knows my screw-ups. "He's your guy?" she asks, soft, and I nod, throat tight. "Three weeks, best three weeks. Now it's gone." She doesn't flinch, just writes more, then looks up. "We'll sort it. Victor's the key, nail him, Claire's got nothing left."

The flat's dark, neon flickering through the blinds, and I'm pacing still, guilt and hope mixing up. Tessa's here, digging, and I'm thinking, maybe she's right, maybe we can fix this. "What've you got on him?" I ask, stopping, and she flips her notebook, showing dates, numbers. "Slot logs, cash siphoned, years back. Your voucher's part of it, hush payment, like you said. He's sloppy, Marcus, left trails." My chest eases, just a bit, she's good, always was, and I'm glad, glad she's on my side.

We're quiet, just the scratch of her pen, and I'm thinking, Julian's out there, mad, hurt, but Tessa's here, pulling threads. "You're sure it's just Victor?" I say, slow, and she nods. "No big syndicate, just him, skimming, covering his arse. Claire's the wild card." My hands rub my neck, and I'm hoping, hoping it's small enough to fight, big enough to explain to Jules. I sit again, close, watching her work, and it's sinking in, my past, that voucher, it's all tied to Victor's mess, and Tessa's cracking it open.

Then her phone rings, sharp, loud, and I jump, heart racing. She grabs it, listens, and her face hardens. "Yeah? Where?" she says, quick, then hangs up, standing fast. "Victor's on the move," she says, voice tight, grabbing her bag. "Heading to Claire's last known spot, motel off the Strip." My stomach drops, and I'm up too, staring at her, Victor, Claire, together?, and my skin's crawling. They're out there, close, and Tessa's already at the door, looking back. "You coming?" she says, and I'm frozen, heart pounding, knowing it's now, now or never.