A few minutes later, Rory dropped me behind Club Xyst, next to a security door that led into the service hallway.
The club’s head of security, Slade—six and a half feet of silent threat in a tailored black suit—waited just inside the door. He was the kind of man who could end a fight just by standing up. My sister used to call him her favorite blunt instrument, and he’d worn the title like a badge.
“Nik.” He nodded once, stepping aside.
I clapped his shoulder. “Slade.”
Ana had trusted him with her life, and in this world, that counted for everything.
I took the private stairwell down to the underground casino and paused just outside the entryway, adjusting my jacket and posture before stepping inside.
The downstairs level of Xyst was all understated wealth and controlled vice. No gaudy slots. No cheap noise. Just smooth jazz from a baby grand, warm wooden finishes, and clusters of monied elite seated around velvet-covered poker tables. The air smelled of aged whiskey and power. Only private members had access to this area—men and women with real privilege.
At the corner booth by the old-world bar, Lucian sat with his back to the wall, surveying the room intently. Lachlan Byrnes and Gabriel Rossi flanked him, while Julian Lombardi leaned casually against the bar nearby.
Lucian, his younger brother Lachlan, Gabriel, and Julian ran Club Xyst. Six months ago, I’d discovered that Anastasia—along with the rest of them—co-owned Xyst, an exclusive Midtown club for the rich and powerful. Behind its polished facade, it offered a discreet venue for high-stakes gambling, professional escorts, and under-the-table dealmaking for those who knew the right people. The underground casino and balcony levelswere reserved for members only. The main floor was open to those who passed a background check but didn’t meet the club’s stringent standards for membership.
Lucian Byrnes was an arrogant, sharp-tongued Irish bastard who got a kick out of trying to yank my chain. He’d been involved with my sister, fucking her for years with no strings attached and no clue who she really was, until her car accident and subsequent amnesia. He hadn’t known Ana was the daughter of a Russian Pakhan or that she had a twin brother who could order a man’s death with a single look. But now that I controlled her share of the club, Lucian and I had reached a functional understanding—he liked breathing, and I needed loyal men.
Now he was neck-deep in our world, whether he liked it or not. To his credit, he’d stood his ground and kept the club running like a well-oiled machine. He might have resented me taking over Ana’s share, but he was smart enough to know what survival required. Soon, I intended to bring him—and the rest of the Xyst crew—into my inner circle. They were already business associates. It was time they became soldiers.
Lucian didn’t stand when I entered, just tipped his head slightly and gestured from the shadows toward the center of the casino, where a poker table sat bathed in golden light like a throne at court—perfectly positioned, impossible to ignore. It was surrounded by high-rollers. Men and women dressed to the nines lingered nearby, watching intently—amused and hungry to see someone lose.
At the table, Jarvis Hayes—the mayor’s brother—sat with a man who looked like he belonged in a gangland shootout, not a private club. Scarred knuckles, busted nose that hadn’t healed right, and wiry frame dressed in a rumpled button-down with the top few buttons undone, no tie in sight. He spoke in a thick accent and seemed to be making no attempt to hide wherehe was from. Though he was radically out of place here, he apparently didn’t care.
“El Pastor,” Lucian murmured under his breath as I moved to sit beside him. “One of Delgado’s top men. Word is he ran an aggressive and absolutely lethal hit squad across Central America for the last ten years.”
I gave Lucian a subtle nod. “He’s too comfortable.”
“Jarvis Hayes brought him in like they were longtime friends. They’ve been drinking, laughing, talking shit for over an hour.”
I scanned the table. “Anyone else?”
“Just the two of them. But Jarvis introduced him asa business consultantto the other players.”
I leaned forward and murmured, “We need ears on that table.”
Lucian didn’t hesitate, and motioned to Slade, catching his attention. He pointed toward a brunette waitress behind the bar and then lifted two fingers and flicked them toward our table, silently summoning them.
Slade took the cue immediately, moving to the waitress’s side and murmuring something to her. She listened, nodded once, and reached for her tray as though she was going to deliver a round of drinks.
Within seconds, the two approached our booth. The waitress was tall and composed, dressed in the standard black Xyst uniform and heels.
“She trustworthy?” I asked under my breath.
Lucian nodded. “Ashe has been here for years. Knows when not to ask questions.”
As soon as Ashe and Slade stopped at our table, Lucian leaned toward her. “We need a listening device placed—subtle and quick. The center poker table between Hayes and his unexpected guest.”
Ashe didn’t flinch. She gave a small smile and a flick of her eyes toward Slade to confirm she understood the plan.
Slade leaned down, murmured something to her, then turned to walk her back toward the bar.
I shifted in my seat and angled for a better view.
Moments later, Ashe was moving with confidence through the casino. Her tray was balanced on one hand, a fresh round of drinks ready. As she approached the poker table, her smile widened—welcoming, professional, just flirtatious enough.
“These are compliments of the ladies at the bar,” she said smoothly, glancing toward a group of women in that vicinity and setting the drinks down without being asked.
