AB snorted from the counter. “Please. You have the best poker face I’ve ever seen. You makestatueslook expressive.”
Bones rumbled a low agreement. “I’ve seen you deal with arms dealers and bakers with the same collected calm. You rescued me at the museum without a twitch. That’s championship-level control right there.”
Voodoo folded his arms, smirking. “Yeah, Grace. If that wasn’t a poker face, nothing is.”
Heat flickered in my chest—small, startled, but warm.
I tried for modesty, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me, lifting despite the weight of everything pressing against my ribs.
“Honestly,” I said, shrugging lightly, “I’m not bad at it.”
“Not bad?” Bones echoed, nudging my knee with his own. “You’re terrifying at it.”
I huffed out something close to a laugh. “Fine. But I’m better when we’re actually playing for stakes.”
Voodoo raised a brow. “Oh? Planning on taking all our money?”
“Money’s boring,” I shot back. “Besides… you guys need a break too.”
AB snapped his laptop shut. “Hear that? The lady wants stakes and a break. Someone get the cards.”
And for the first time in hours, between trauma and fear and grief and the razor-edged hunger for answers, I felt myself exhale something that wasn’t pain.
A smile. Real. Small. But mine.
“Cards are easy,” Voodoo said. “We always keep some at various stops.” He disappeared down the hall and when he came back, he had three decks with him. “Stakes… may prove a little challenging?”
“Do we need physical stakes?” AB mused aloud moving over to join us on the sofa. When he sat next to me, he stretched his legs out and there was a kind of slow sigh that escaped him. We were all aching in different ways. “Or just the idea of them?”
By the time Legend returned—with Goblin trotting proudly at his heels and bags of food swinging from both hands—we’d turned the dining area into something that almost resembled normal life.
Almost.
The circular table was pulled into the center of the room. Five mismatched chairs around it. Bones had cleared enough space that the whole setup looked intentional instead of desperate.
Legend stopped in the doorway, blinked once, then grinned. “Well, damn. I leave for twenty minutes and you degenerates turn this place into a Vegas side room.”
Bones lifted the deck, letting the cards slap together in a clean, deadly shuffle. “Sit down, Lunchbox. You’re in for the next hand.”
“Sweet,” he said, dropping the bags on the counter. Goblin trotted over to me, nudging my knee until I scratched behind his ears. “What are we playing for? Money? Bragging rights? Organs?”
“Clothes,” AB said cheerfully, digging through the food. “And promises.”
Legend went still. Then slowly, very slowly, his grin widened. “Clothes and promises. Okay. This I like.”
I held up a hand before anyone got too excited. “One promise per day. Max.”
Four pairs of male eyes cut toward me. Bones raised a brow. Voodoo paused mid–drink prep. AB froze with a spoon halfway to his mouth. Legend looked personally offended.
“One per day?” Legend echoed. “Gracie, sweetheart, we’re gonna win you by the hour.”
“You think so?” I countered, arching a brow.
Bones let out a low whistle. “She’s confident.”
“Confident?” AB snorted. “She’s plotting our destruction.”
I shrugged, the tiniest tug of amusement pulling at my lips. “I’m just saying… the odds might not be in your favor.”
