𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 || j. daniel atlas

𝐒𝐈𝐗

ONE YEAR LATER

Alena stepped out of the Bellagio Hotel and into the night. There were several taxis lined up under the glow of the fountains behind them. As she approached one, the driver got out and opened the door for her.

"Where to tonight, ma'am?"

"The MGM Grand please, sir," she said, flashing him a smile.

Slipping into the back seat, Alena opened her purse to check one last time that she had her ticket. Thumbing the corner, she considered redirecting the taxi or telling the driver to take her back to the Bellagio. But within five minutes, they had arrived.

Alena thanked the driver, handing over the money and refusing the change. He bid her a good night and left her standing on the street, face-to-face, once more, with him.

A gargantuan poster of Merritt McKinney's face stared back at her, that smirk permanently playing on his lips. She took a deep breath and turned away, passing the posters of the other three Horseman – as they called themselves – on her way along the walkway to the hotel's entrance. Taking the escalator down into the large gilded foyer, she weaved through the crowds heading for the restaurants or casino. Alena showed her ticket to the usher at the entrance to the theatre, who pointed her in the direction of the section she would be seated in.

Even though there were only around ten minutes before the show started, Alena wished she had come in later. Tugging at the hem of her dress and flicking her fingers, she peered at the rest of the audience. Not that she doubted Merritt's skill, or that his fellow Horsemen would be on the same level, but Alena never thought that this many people would be so excited for a magic show. Then again, this was Las Vegas, a place where people got so hammered that marriage seemed like a good idea; a magic show would be a trip in comparison.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle," a man in a crisp, white suit piped up from the aisle. "I believe you are in my seat."

Alena glanced up at the Frenchman and then shuffled to find her ticket again. In her state of nerves and haste, she had seated herself one seat too far over. "My apologies, sir," she smiled, standing.

"It is no problem, mademoiselle." Alena stepped out of the row and let the man pass. "Thank you."

Taking the seat on the end of the row, Alena crossed her legs and clasped her hands over her knee. She trained her eyes on the stage far below and tried to slow her breathing.

Over the past year, she had kept her eyes out for Merritt. At first, she had been quietly smug as he seemed to drop off the face of the Earth. But after a few months of silence, she had begun to feel the tug of inkling worry. Alena tried to tell herself that he had only been a client – she had lost clients before – but this was different and she knew it.

Then, two months ago, an article appeared on her news feed, telling of Merritt McKinney's comeback as a member of a group called the Four Horsemen, sponsored by Arthur Tressler. It was then that she understood why he had left her so suddenly. She could never have gotten him as big a venue as the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. When tickets went on sale and Alena found that she was to be in Las Vegas that week, she hadn't been able to resist.

The lights fell and Alena nudged towards the edge of her seat, heart pounding. A great orchestral number filled the air as the voice of the announcer boomed from overhead.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment tonight, Arthur Tressler and the MGM Grand present...Merritt McKinney!"

Alena leant further forwards, watching the small figure step up onto the stage. His face flashed up on the big screens, his virtual eyes met hers a moment as he raised his hand to greet the screaming crowd.