He stared at the card for several long seconds, out if fear as to what turning it over would indicate as well as the simple goal of getting a few more seconds of precious life, in the obviously vain hope something would happen and the gun pointed at him would not fire.
But the dealer finally coughed, then a second time. And he was forced to reach out and flip over the card.
It was a seven, which taken with the ace and the three meant he had twenty-one.
He had won.
He tried to run but they got him.
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