“So,” he said smoothly, cracking his fingers, “I haven’t gotten to baptize one of my own card tables yet.”
“You mean take our volts yet,” one player said, earning a chorus of good-natured laughter from the rest of the table.
“Ah yes, well, I hope I can live up to my own reputation.” Levi reached for the deck of cards at the center of the black felt tabletop. Normally, he would make a show out of shuffling them, the way he used to at St. Morse. But he wasn’t looking for tricks tonight. He shuffled, cut the cards, and went straight to dealing. “I’m a bit out of practice.”
One of the men chuckled. “I don’t think we’re expected to believe that.”
They were right to be skeptical. It’d only been eight months since Levi had left his position at St. Morse, and weeks since he’d last played with the Irons. He knew Tropps too well to forget it. He’d once played it at any hour of the morning or night. Drunk or sober. With friends or strangers. Sometimes he’d seemed to play it in his sleep.
This is my story,he thought.This is who I am.
It was so trivial, of course. Levi was far more than a card game, than one skill, no matter how famous it had made him. But the legend that had moments ago felt claustrophobic now—for this one moment—felt like a familiar kind of comfort. As he flipped over each card, he didn’t have to worry about the Bargainer, en route to the casino at this very moment. He didn’t have to worry about the Chancellor, about Bryce Balfour, about how different it felt to gamble with lives instead of volts.
He won, just like how dreams were supposed to go.
Levi grinned and slid forward the pot of chips. Hwan slapped him on the back, and someone else thrust something cold in his hand. In the normalcy of it all, he stood up, a smile still spread across his face, his Gambler’s Ruin raised high.
“Who would’ve thought this?” he asked, loud enough for the other tables around him to pause their games and stare. Levi climbed onto his chair and scanned the room for familiar faces. His spades—the dealers. The diamonds—bouncers, security. The clubs—managers. The hearts—performers. And Enne, who stood at the edge of the hall, nodding brightly for him to continue. He beamed. “If you had told me six years ago that I’d be trusted with my own casino, well, I wouldn’t have bet on it.”
At the smiles around the room, Levi’s spirits rose further. His favorite part about putting on a show was when he forgot itwasa show. When he could perform for no one but himself.
“I’m going to keep this short because I don’t want to distract you from gambling away all your voltage,” Levi said to a roomful of laughter. “Thank you for coming out to the beach in the freezing cold. Thank you to Luckluster and St. Morse for their absence and letting us open a new casino. Thank you to the fifty or so Irons here tonight, who were willing to quit more secure jobs at other dens to give this place a shot.”
There were a lot more people to thank, Levi knew—one person, in particular, who deserved more gratitude than he could ever give. But these patrons hadn’t come out to pay a toast to the dead, and Levi hadn’t begun his speech to put a damper on their night.
He didn’t have to, though. As soon as Levi opened his mouth to add a last goodbye, a gunshot rang out from the hall.
Bang!
For a moment, the entire room froze, as though mistaking the noise for part of the show. Then, when Levi jumped down from his chair in shock, everyone lurched from their seats. Most screamed.
The Bargainer’s here,Levi realized, frantically scanning the crowd for Enne. But when his gaze fell on her place by the door, Enne was gone.
SOPHIA
Sophia and Harrison had stationed themselves in the lounge of the upstairs hallway of the Legendary, each sitting stiffly on a set of black-and-white upholstered armchairs—Sophia clutching her dice, Harrison clutching his gun, and both tapping their legs restlessly.
“Stop it,” Harrison grunted. “Stop fidgeting. You’re making me nervous.”
“You’refidgeting.”
“Yeah. Because I’m nervous.”
Sophia rolled her eyes, but she stopped moving her leg. She wanted to roll her dice, to see her chances of survival, but knowing her demise wouldn’t make it any easier.
Plus, the night Jac had died, she’d rolled high. Her talent was meaningless if it only accounted for her, when she had so many people she cared about facing peril tonight: Poppy, Delaney, Harrison. Jac had always claimed Levi’s plans were foolproof, but Sophia didn’t trust as easily as he had. And anyone who’d purchased a casino this tacky could not have good judgment.
Harrison took out his silver pocket watch and checked the time.
“You keep doing that,” Sophia told him.
“It’s what nervous people do.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“It’s just been a while, is all,” Harrison muttered.
“You an expert on hostage situations?” she asked. He shot her a dark look, and she immediately realized her mistake. “Forget I said that.”
