The warning Virginia has received is clear: If you go and don't tip him off, no one will touch you. If you stay…well, there's no way of knowing what will happen to you.
Ben has told her he once killed a childhood friend on the boss's orders.
Why did you do it?
I had no choice. Orders are orders.
Virginia didn't entirely understand him then, but she understands now. In a way, she's done the same thing to him.
Would it have turned out this way if she'd kept silent? Maybe, maybe not. Lucky and Meyer aren't fools, and they both know Ben as well as she does. They would have found out about the money with or without her help. At least, that is what she tells herself.
She wishes she'd been allowed to leave him a note or speak to him one last time, tell him things like goodbye and I'm sorry and I love you. She hopes he already knows the last one.
Virginia remembers flying down the desert road, wind in her hair, Ben's eyes sparkling as he outlines his plan for turning Las Vegas into a gambler's paradise. He built a palace in the desert and crowned himself king. She's proud to have been his queen, but those days are gone now, and there's no getting them back.
Orders are orders, and Ben has disobeyed.
"I love you," she whispers into the silence. "I love you, I love you, I love you." She says it four times, one for each bullet that will tear through her lover's head and chest, though she does not know that yet.
Virginia touches her cheek and finds something wet there.
The car drives on.
Far away, at the home Virginia's left, a gunman lies in wait. He knows what to do. He has his orders.
The moment arrives. He sets his sights on his target, takes aim, and fires.