The Silver Star Casino loomed on the edge of the San Fernando Valley, its neon sign glowing like a warning. Marcus gripped the steering wheel of Sophia's beat-up Honda Civic, his knuckles white. Claire sat in the passenger seat, flipping through her dad's notebook, while Sophia leaned against the window, cleaning a switchblade with a rag—her "just-in-case" tool, she'd said.
They'd picked up the $1,700 from Miller that morning. The FBI agent had handed over the cash in a plain envelope, along with a small device. "Stick this in the casino," he'd said. "It tracks cell signals. If Wolf's there, we'll know." He'd also taken the weighted chip, promising to get it tested for drugs.
"Taylor's dad—Richard Voss—has a rap sheet for tax fraud," Claire said, pointing to a page in the notebook. "My dad wrote that he 'launders money for Wolf through the casino's VIP room.' That's where the game will be."
Sophia looked up from her blade. "I asked my dad. He said Voss's guys check IDs at the door. No fake ones. But I know a back entrance—through the loading dock. My cousin used to work there."
Marcus nodded, merging onto the freeway. The sun was setting, painting the sky pink and orange. He thought of Raymond—his uncle had been quiet the past two days, only texting "be careful" once. Marcus worried Wolf had gotten to him.
"Someone's following us," Sophia said suddenly, nodding at the rearview mirror. A black SUV was tailing them, its windows tinted. "Taylor's guys. He wants to make sure we don't bail."
Marcus's heart raced. "What do we do?"
Sophia grinned, grabbing her switchblade. "Trust me." She rolled down the window, leaned out, and tossed a lit firecracker at the SUV. It popped, and the driver swerved. Sophia yelled, "Floor it!"
Marcus hit the gas, the Civic sputtering as it accelerated. They took the next exit, weaving through side streets until the SUV was gone.
When they finally pulled into the Silver Star's parking lot, Marcus's hands were shaking. Claire squeezed his arm. "We've got this. You know his tells—he taps his foot when he has a good hand. I'll be in the crowd, signal you with my phone light. One flash for fold, two for call."
Sophia handed him a rubber band. "Extra cards. In case you need to switch. And if you get caught—run to the loading dock. I'll be there with the car."
Marcus took the band, sliding it around his wrist. He took a deep breath and got out of the car.
The casino's lobby was marble and gold, a far cry from the Lucky Star's basement. A doorman in a tuxedo checked IDs. Marcus held his breath—his fake ID, made by Sophia's cousin, said he was 21. The doorman nodded, and he walked in.
The VIP room was on the second floor, guarded by two men in black suits. Taylor was already there, sitting at a poker table with three other guys—all in expensive suits. Wolf was leaning against the wall, a cigar in his hand.
Marcus's throat tightened. He'd walked into a trap.
Taylor grinned, waving him over. "Chen! Glad you made it. Buy-in's $5,000. You got it?"
Marcus slid the envelope across the table. The dealer counted it, then gave him a stack of chips. He sat down, his knee bouncing.
The game started. Marcus got a pair of 6s. Taylor bet $200, his foot tapping the floor—taps his foot. Claire was in the corner, her phone in her hand. No flash. Marcus called.
The flop came: 6 of hearts, 10 of diamonds, 3 of clubs. Three of a kind. Taylor bet $500, still tapping. Claire flashed her phone twice—call. Marcus pushed his chips forward.
The turn was a 6 of spades. Four of a kind. Taylor's face paled, but he bet $1,000. Claire flashed twice again. Marcus called.
The river was a 2 of hearts. Taylor slammed his cards down—pair of kings. "Fold," he said.
Marcus pulled the $2,000 in chips toward him, his hands shaking. He'd won.
Wolf pushed off the wall, walking over. "Nice hand," he said, his voice low. "But you're not leaving here with that money. Voss owes me a favor. And you—you owe me $50,000."
Marcus stood, backing away. "I won. The money's mine."
Wolf laughed, loud and cold. "You think this is a game? Your uncle's in my trunk. If you want him back—give me the money. And the chip. The weighted one."
Marcus froze. Raymond. Wolf had him.
Claire ran over, grabbing his arm. "We have to go. Miller's on his way."
Wolf nodded at the guards. They stepped forward.
Sophia burst through the door, her switchblade in hand. "Back off!" she yelled. "The cops are here. You wanna get arrested?"
Wolf's eyes narrowed. He glanced at the door, then at Marcus. "This isn't over," he said. "I'll find you."
They ran, down the stairs and out the loading dock. Sophia's car was waiting. They jumped in, and she hit the gas.
When they were safe, Marcus pulled out his phone. He had 12 missed calls from Raymond. He called back, his hands shaking.
"Marcus?" Raymond's voice was hoarse. "I'm fine. Wolf let me go. He said… he wants you to meet him at the Lucky Star tomorrow. To 'settle the debt.'"
Marcus's throat tightened. Tomorrow. The final showdown.
He looked at Claire, her face pale. She nodded. "We'll go. Together."