The rain hadn't stopped; it had become a deluge, pounding the roof of Marcus's armored SUV with the force of a thousand stones. The drive to the "El Azahar" casino was an exercise in deathly silence. Marcus drove with barely contained fury, his white knuckles gripping the leather steering wheel. I sat beside him, huddled in the leather seat, feeling every passing second like a stab of guilt.

—Marcus, please, let me help you— I whispered, breaking the suffocating silence.

"You've done enough, Zo