Aria's POV
I'm not going to Damien Cross's office.
Instead, I'm standing in a pawn shop at seven in the morning, watching a bored clerk examine my mother's wedding ring.
"Fifty bucks," he says.
My chest tightens. "That ring is worth at least five hundred. It's real gold with—"
"Lady, I can give you fifty or you can walk. Your choice."
I think about my mother's face the day Dad proposed. How she wore this ring every single day until cancer took her. How she made me promise to keep it safe.
I slide it across the counter. "Fifty."
He counts out the bills like he's doing me a favor. I shove them in my pocket and leave before I change my mind.
Next stop: my laptop. The one I used for my online bookkeeping jobs. The clerk at the electronics store offers me eighty dollars for a computer that cost nine hundred.
I take it.
Marco's gaming console is harder. He saved for eight months to buy it. It's the only thing that makes him smile anymore. But we need money more than we need happiness.
The GameStop employee gives me sixty dollars. I stare at the console on the counter, remembering Marco's face on his birthday when he finally bought it.
"You sure you want to sell?" the employee asks. "Kid worked hard for this, huh?"
I grab the money and run.
By noon, I have three hundred and forty dollars. It's not even close to enough.
The first loan shark works out of a dry cleaning business. He takes one look at my father's name and laughs. "Thomas Moretti's daughter? Yeah, I know about your family. No way."
The second one operates from a bar downtown. She's a hard-looking woman with cold eyes. "I don't loan to dead men's kids. Too risky."
The third is the worst.
His name is Sal, and he meets me in a parking garage. He's big, wearing too much cologne, and the way he looks at me makes my skin crawl.
"Two million dollars?" He whistles. "That's a lot of debt, sweetheart."
"I just need enough to buy time. Maybe fifty thousand—"
"I could help you." He steps closer. "But traditional payment plans won't work for you. You got no collateral, no job, no nothing." His smile shows too many teeth. "But a pretty girl like you? You could work off the debt another way. I know some people who'd pay good money for—"
I don't let him finish. I run to my car, lock the doors, and drive away with my heart pounding.
My hands shake on the steering wheel. I have seven days. Three hundred and forty dollars. No job. No options.
I'm going to lose Marco.
That night, I go back to the Diamond Sky Casino. Not to work—I'll never work there again. But to collect my final tips from the locker room.
Two former coworkers, Jessica and Amanda, are changing into their uniforms. They don't see me at first.
"Did you hear about the game tonight?" Jessica whispers.
"The underground one?" Amanda sounds nervous. "I heard security caught the last guy who tried to play."
"Yeah, but Tommy said if you can get in, you can win big. Like, life-changing money. Some guy paid off a hundred-thousand-dollar debt in one night."
My ears perk up. I stay quiet, listening.
"Where is it?" Amanda asks.
"Private room on the third floor. You need five hundred to buy in. Tommy knows the dealer—he can get you a seat if you're serious."
Five hundred dollars. I have three hundred and forty.
I wait until they leave, then find Tommy, the security guard who always treated me decent. He's on break, smoking outside.
"I need to get into tonight's game," I tell him.
Tommy nearly drops his cigarette. "Aria, no. Those games are dangerous. People get hurt—"
"I need this, Tommy. Please."
He studies my face. Finally, he sighs. "Buy-in is five hundred. You got it?"
"I will." Somehow.
"Game starts at midnight. Third floor, room 347. Use the service elevator. And Aria?" His expression turns serious. "These aren't regular gamblers. These are people with real money and real connections. You sure about this?"
No. But I nod anyway.
I go home and dig through everything we own. I find Dad's old watch—the one thing I kept for Marco. It's worth at least two hundred at a pawn shop.
I'm holding it, trying to work up the courage to sell it, when Marco's door opens.
"What are you doing?" He's standing in his doorway, staring at the watch in my hand.
"Nothing. Go back to bed."
"That's Dad's watch." He walks closer. "You sold my gaming console, didn't you? And Mom's ring. And your laptop."
"Marco—"
"What are you planning?" His voice rises. "Please don't tell me you're going to that meeting with Damien Cross."
"I'm not." That's true, at least.
"Then what?"
I can't lie to him anymore. "There's a poker game tonight. High stakes. If I win, I can get enough money to—"
"Are you crazy?" Marco grabs my arm. "Those games are run by criminals! Dad used to—" He stops, his face going pale. "Dad used to play in games like that. That's how he lost everything."
"I'm not Dad. I'm good at poker. You know I am."
"You're good at playing with quarters at the kitchen table!" Tears fill his eyes. "This is different. These people will hurt you if you can't pay."
"I won't lose."
"That's what Dad said!" He's crying now. "Please, Aria. Don't do this. We'll figure something else out. I can drop out of school, get a job—"
"You're sixteen. And you're staying in school." I pull him into a hug. "I'll be careful. I promise."
"Aria, please—"
"I love you. But I have to do this."
At eleven-thirty, I leave Marco sleeping—or pretending to sleep. I have five hundred dollars from pawning Dad's watch. My hands won't stop shaking.
The casino is different at night. Darker. More dangerous.
I take the service elevator to the third floor. Room 347 is at the end of a long hallway. I can hear voices inside.
I raise my hand to knock.
The door opens before I touch it.
A massive man in a suit blocks the doorway. "Name?"
"Aria Moretti."
He checks a list, then steps aside. "Five hundred. Cash only."
I walk into a room filled with cigar smoke and whispered conversations. Eight people sit around a poker table. They all look rich. Powerful. Dangerous.
I find an empty seat and put my money on the table.
For two hours, I play the best poker of my life. I read the other players, calculate the odds, and slowly build my stack. I'm up to fifteen thousand dollars. Enough to buy two more months. Maybe three.
Then the door opens.
Every person in the room goes completely silent.
A man walks in, and even though I've never seen him in person, I know exactly who he is.
Damien Cross.
His eyes scan the room and stop on me.
He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.
"Well," he says softly. "This is unexpected."
My blood turns to ice.
He walks straight toward my table.
Toward me.