The warehouse lights were harsh, casting long shadows on the concrete floor. Marcus gripped the ledger, his knuckles white. Claire stood beside him, her phone still in her hand—dialing Miller's number, he hoped.
Wolf took a step forward, his boots clicking. "You think you can outsmart me? Two kids? Please." He nodded at Jake. "Take the ledger. And the girl—keep her. She'll be useful. Her dad owes me a favor."
Jake lunged. Marcus dodged, shoving the ledger into Claire's hands. "Run!" he yelled.
Claire took off toward the back door. Jake chased her, but Marcus tackled him to the ground. They rolled, Jake's fist connecting with Marcus's jaw. Pain exploded in his face, but he didn't let go.
"Marcus!" Claire yelled. She'd stopped at the door, holding a metal pipe. She swung it at Jake's back. Jake yelped, rolling off Marcus.
They ran, the pipe clattering to the floor. Outside, the night air hit them. They sprinted down the street, not stopping until they reached the 24-hour burger joint.
Marcus collapsed into a booth, holding his jaw. Claire sat across from him, breathing hard. "You okay?" she asked, reaching for his face.
Marcus nodded, wincing. "Yeah. Just a bruise." He looked at her hands—empty. "Where's the ledger?"
Claire's face fell. "I dropped it. When Jake chased me. I'm sorry."
Marcus's heart sank. The evidence was gone. Now they had nothing.
"We still have the chips," Claire said, pulling one from her pocket. "The weighted ones. We can get them tested. See what's inside."
Marcus nodded, but he didn't feel hopeful. They had one day left, $300, and no evidence.
The next morning, Marcus walked to school, his jaw throbbing. He'd told his mom he'd fallen off his bike—she'd fussed over him, pressing a cold towel to his face.
Carlos was waiting by the gym, his guys flanking him. "Heard you had a busy night," Carlos said, grinning. "Warehouse on 12th. Wolf's not happy."
Marcus's throat tightened. Carlos was working for Wolf. "What do you want?"
"Your chips," Carlos said. "All of them. You won $1,500 last night. I want half. For keeping your little trip to the warehouse quiet."
Marcus didn't have $750. He had $300. "I don't have it."
Carlos laughed, shoving Marcus into the gym wall. "Liar. I saw you with the blonde chick. You won big. Give me the money, or I tell Wolf you tried to steal his ledger."
Marcus closed his eyes. He was trapped.
Then a voice yelled, "Leave him alone!"
Sophia—tall, with dark hair and a leather jacket—walked over, a baseball bat slung over her shoulder. She was a junior, Marcus remembered—rumored to be in a gang, but he'd never talked to her.
Carlos turned, his smirk fading. "This isn't your business, Sophia."
Sophia swung the bat, hitting the gym wall. A crack echoed. "He's my business now. You want to pick a fight? Go ahead. But I know where your mom works. The laundromat on 3rd. Bet she'd love to hear about your 'protection fees.'"
Carlos's face turned red. He stared at Sophia, then at Marcus. "This isn't over," he said, before walking away.
Marcus let out a breath. "Thanks," he said.
Sophia shrugged, leaning the bat against the wall. "Don't thank me. I need a favor. My dad's Wolf's accountant. He owes Wolf $5,000. Wolf took my college savings—$2,000. If you help me get it back, I'll help you win the rest of your money. I know Wolf's guys' tells. All of them."
Marcus's eyes widened. Sophia knew the enforcers. She could help. "What's the plan?"
Sophia grinned. "There's a wealthy heir at this school—Taylor. His dad owns the Silver Star Casino in the Valley. Taylor's a terrible poker player, but he thinks he's good. He hosts games in the gym basement every Friday. We can win his money. Easy."
Claire walked over, her backpack slung over her shoulder. She'd heard the conversation. "I know Taylor," she said. "He's in my AP Stats class. He bluffs when he scratches his neck. And he always bets big when he has a pair."
Marcus looked at Sophia, then at Claire. A team.
"Let's do it," he said.
That Friday, the gym basement was packed. Taylor sat at a card table, surrounded by guys in letterman jackets. He was wearing a Rolex, his hair gelled back.
Marcus, Claire, and Sophia walked in. Taylor looked up, grinning. "Chen. Heard you're a card shark. Wanna play? $100 buy-in."
Marcus nodded, sliding $100 across the table. Sophia stood behind him, whispering, "He's scratching his neck. Bluffing."
The game started. Marcus got a pair of kings. Taylor bet $200, scratching his neck. Marcus called. The flop came: king of hearts, 5 of spades, 2 of clubs. Three of a kind.
Taylor bet $500, still scratching. Marcus looked at Claire—she nodded. "All in," he said.
Taylor's grin faded. He folded. Marcus won $800.
The game continued. With Sophia's tells and Claire's math (she counted the high cards, whispering odds in his ear), Marcus won $3,000 by 9 PM.
Taylor was furious, slamming his cards down. "You're cheating," he said.
Marcus shrugged. "Sore loser."
Taylor stood, his face red. "My dad's casino. Silver Star. Next Saturday. $5,000 buy-in. You win, you get the money. You lose, you owe me $10,000. You in?"
Marcus's heart raced. $5,000 buy-in. He only had $3,300. But if he won, he'd have enough to pay Wolf.
He nodded. "I'll be there."
Taylor stormed off. Sophia high-fived Marcus. "Nice job. Now we just need $1,700 for the buy-in."
Claire pulled out her phone. "Miller. He said he'll lend us the money. But we have to give him the weighted chip. He'll get it tested. If it's drugs, we can take Wolf down."
Marcus nodded. They had a plan.
As they left the gym, Claire pulled Marcus aside. "My dad's notes," she said, handing him a photo. "Taylor's dad's casino. The logo—same as the one on Wolf's chips. They're working together."
Marcus stared at the photo. Silver Star Casino. Wolf's chips. Money laundering. It all connected.
Next Saturday. He had to win.
He looked at Claire, her eyes bright in the streetlight. "We'll win," he said.
Claire smiled. "Yeah. We will."