The room upstairs was nothing like the casino floor below.

  Quieter. Not silent—but quieter in a way that made every sound feel deliberate.

  The tables were spaced far apart, each one sitting beneath its own chandelier. Thick carpets covered the floor, dulling footsteps and muffling the movement of chairs. There were fewer people here. Much fewer.

  Brad stopped just inside the doorway.

  For half a second his brain was still stuck on the voice.

  You’re finally here.

  That sentence sounded… wrong. Like someone had been expecting them.

  But the man who stepped forward looked perfectly relaxed.

  He wore a clean, tailored coat and carried a thin ledger tucked beneath one arm. His hair was combed neatly back, and his expression held the calm patience of someone used to dealing with wealthy guests.

  “Forgive the greeting,” the man said politely. “I’m Ingrid’s assistant.”

  Brad blinked.

  The man gestured toward the room. “She mentioned a player downstairs who seemed to be doing rather well. Thought you might prefer the high stakes floor while the rest of the company arrives.”

  Brad glanced sideways at Cade.

  Cade gave a small nod. “Generous of her,” he said calmly.

  The assistant smiled faintly. “Successful players are good for business.”

  Brad exhaled slowly.

  Alright. So that wasn’t a trap. Just a promotion.

  The assistant motioned toward the center of the room. “If you’d like to take a seat, the first game will begin shortly.”

  Cade stepped forward without hesitation and Brad followed.

  The table at the center of the room was larger than the others, its green felt immaculate beneath the soft golden light overhead. Only three seats were occupied.

  Two older men sat across from each other, quietly stacking chips. Both of them glanced up when Cade approached. Their eyes lingered briefly on the purple hair. Then the suit. Then the eyes. But neither man said anything.

  Cade took a seat and Brad positioned himself just behind his chair again.

  The assistant set a small stack of polished chips in front of Cade. “House credit,” he said. “Courtesy of Ingrid.”

  Cade ran a finger lightly across the edge of one chip. “How kind.”

  The dealer began shuffling.

  Brad leaned slightly closer. “This feels different.”

  Cade didn’t move. “Quite.”

  Brad glanced around the room.

  Downstairs had been loud. Messy. Full of amateur gamblers and overeager merchants.

  Up here everyone was calm. Too calm. No one talked loudly. No one laughed. The few conversations happening were quiet enough that Brad could barely hear them.

  It wasn’t a gambling floor.

  It felt more like a negotiation room.

  “You feel it too?” Brad murmured.

  Cade nodded slightly. “The room is heavier.”

  The dealer finished shuffling and cards slid across the table. Two landed in front of Cade.

  He didn’t touch them. Instead he tilted his head slightly, listening.

  Brad watched the other players carefully.

  The two older men were relaxed—the professional kind of relaxed. Not the fake confidence from downstairs. These men had been gambling for years.

  The first round of betting began.

  One of the men pushed a small stack of chips forward and the other matched it instantly.

  Brad leaned down. “Both confident.”

  Cade nodded slightly. “Then we begin slowly.”

  He matched the bet.

  The cards revealed nothing dramatic. Various small raises and folds. The pot stayed small.

  But Brad noticed something strange.

  No one here was trying to dominate the table. Everyone played carefully. Like they were waiting.

  The hand ended and Cade folded. The dealer began shuffling again as more footsteps entered the room. Brad glanced over his shoulder.

  Three new players had arrived.

  One of them carried himself differently from the others. Tall. Broad shoulders. Military posture.

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  His coat was expensive, but the way he moved made it clear he wasn’t used to dressing like a noble.

  Brad leaned closer to Cade. “New arrivals.”

  Cade tilted his head slightly. “I know.”

  The man approached the table and pulled out a chair. He didn’t sit immediately. Instead he studied the players already seated.

  His eyes paused briefly on Cade.

  Then he sat down.

  Brad felt the shift immediately.

  The room tightened. Not physically. But the energy changed.

  The other players noticed it too. Chips moved slower. Conversations died down. Even the dealer’s movements became more deliberate.

  Brad leaned closer again. “That one matters.”

  Cade nodded once. “Yes.”

  The dealer finished shuffling and cards slid across the table again. Two stopped in front of Cade.

  He picked them up this time. Only briefly. Then set them down.

  Brad studied the new player.

  Confident. But not the casual confidence of a gambler.

  This was different.

  Controlled. Disciplined.

  Brad lowered his voice. “He’s military.”

  Cade’s mouth twitched faintly. “Yes.”

  Brad frowned. “You felt that?”

  Cade didn’t answer immediately.

  Instead he rested his fingers lightly against the edge of the table, listening again. Feeling the room.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

  “Not just military.”

  Brad waited.

  Cade pushed a single chip forward.

  The new player matched the bet without hesitation.

  Cade tilted his head slightly.

  Then he finished the sentence.

  “Command.”

  Brad’s stomach tightened slightly.

  The game had just begun.

  And the people they were looking for had finally arrived.

  The next few hands passed slowly.

  Not the slow hesitation of amateur gamblers trying to decide whether they were brave enough to raise, but the deliberate pace of people who already knew exactly what they were doing. Cards slid across the felt. Chips moved quietly from stack to stack. No one rushed. No one celebrated.

  Brad noticed it almost immediately.

  Nobody here was trying to win quickly. They were studying each other, probing, testing.

  The dealer revealed the river card and one of the older men quietly collected the pot. No celebration. No grin. Just the soft scrape of chips sliding across the table before the dealer began shuffling again.

  Brad leaned slightly closer behind Cade’s chair.

  “They’re not gambling.”

  Cade tilted his head just slightly. “No.”

  Brad watched the table again.

  Downstairs the games had been loud—merchants trying to impress each other, raising too fast, bluffing too loudly. Up here nobody spoke unless they had to. Every bet was controlled, every raise measured.

  “They’re measuring each other,” Brad murmured.

  Cade nodded faintly. “Yes.”

  Cards slid across the table again and two landed in front of Cade. He lifted them briefly, just long enough for the room to believe he had looked, then set them back down.

  Across the table the military man studied him—not suspicious, but interested.

  Brad noticed the movement in the man’s shoulders.

  “He’s watching you,” Brad said quietly.

  Cade pushed a small stack of chips forward. “He should.”

  The military man matched the bet. Another player folded. The fourth raised.

  Brad watched the man’s hands. They were steady—too steady.

  “Professional,” Brad whispered.

  Cade nodded.

  The room felt heavier with every hand that passed. It wasn’t just tension. It was anticipation.

  Brad started noticing small things. Players entering quietly. Servants bringing drinks to very specific tables. More than once someone glanced toward the staircase.

  Waiting.

  Like everyone knew something was about to begin.

  Another hand ended and chips slid across the felt. The dealer began shuffling again.

  Brad leaned down. “Same pattern.”

  Cade’s fingers rested lightly against the edge of the table. “I know.”

  Brad frowned slightly. “What are they waiting for?”

  Cade didn’t answer immediately. Instead he tilted his head slightly, listening and feeling the room.

  The auras around the table were calm—disciplined, professional—but beneath that calm something simmered.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

  “Not what.”

  Brad waited.

  Cade slid a single chip forward. “Who.”

  The dealer revealed the next card. Two players folded. The military man stayed in.

  Brad noticed the shift again.

  That man wasn’t playing the cards. He was watching the room, exactly the same way Cade was.

  Brad leaned closer. “He knows something.”

  “Yes.”

  The betting round ended and the dealer began shuffling again. More footsteps entered the room.

  Brad glanced up.

  Two new players had arrived.

  One of them carried himself differently—not just confident, but commanding. Brad felt the temperature of the room shift slightly as several players glanced toward the newcomer before quickly looking away.

  Brad leaned down again. “That one matters too.”

  Cade didn’t move. “I know.”

  But Cade wasn’t sensing the newcomer.

  He was sensing someone else.

  A presence moving through the room—sharp, controlled, powerful.

  Brad noticed it a moment later as the woman approached the tables.

  She moved with effortless authority. Tall, elegant, dark hair falling neatly over one shoulder, her dress catching the chandelier light as she walked.

  But what caught Cade’s attention wasn’t the appearance.

  It was the aura.

  Bright. Focused. Burning like a controlled flame.

  Military power.

  Cade’s head tilted slightly.

  Brad whispered, “That her?”

  Cade nodded once. “Yes.”

  Ingrid.

  Her assistant appeared beside her almost instantly. She spoke quietly to him before her attention drifted across the tables, eventually settling on Cade.

  She studied him for several seconds.

  Then she smiled.

  Not warmly. Knowingly.

  The dealer finished shuffling, but before he could deal the next hand Ingrid spoke.

  “Forgive the interruption.”

  The room stilled.

  She stepped closer to Cade’s table, her voice carrying easily across the quiet floor.

  “Mr…?”

  Cade leaned back slightly in his chair.

  “Vale,” he said smoothly. “Adrian Vale.”

  Brad kept his face neutral.

  Ingrid nodded once. “A pleasure.”

  Her eyes drifted to the chips stacked neatly in front of him.

  “You’ve made quite an impression downstairs.”

  Cade shrugged lightly. “Beginner’s luck.”

  Ingrid’s smile sharpened just slightly. “I doubt that.”

  She gestured toward the far side of the room.

  “If you would indulge me for a moment.”

  Brad straightened slightly as the players at the table watched carefully. No one spoke.

  Cade stood. “Of course.”

  Brad followed.

  Ingrid turned and began walking toward the far wall—not toward the staircase they had used earlier, but another one, smaller and hidden along the side of the room.

  Brad leaned closer to Cade as they followed.

  “You trust this?”

  Cade answered quietly. “No.”

  They reached the staircase and the assistant opened the door. Warm light spilled down the steps.

  Ingrid began climbing. Cade followed. Brad came last.

  The moment Cade crossed the threshold he felt it.

  The auras above were completely different.

  Downstairs had been controlled. Professional.

  Up here the energy burned hotter.

  Ambition.

  Power.

  Every step upward made the sensation stronger.

  Brad noticed Cade slow slightly.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  Cade didn’t answer immediately. He was listening, feeling the room ahead of them.

  The auras burned brighter with every step—not gamblers, not merchants, but people used to command. The kind who moved armies and decided the fate of cities.

  The staircase ended at a pair of massive doors.

  Ingrid stopped and turned toward them.

  “You’ve done well tonight, Mr. Vale.”

  Cade inclined his head slightly. “Thank you.”

  She pushed the doors open.

  The room beyond exploded with light and sound—music, laughter, massive gaming tables, balconies overlooking the city.

  But Cade didn’t notice the spectacle.

  He noticed the auras.

  One burned bright and steady.

  Rex.

  Another twisted violently, warped and unstable like the sound of a voice passing through broken glass.

  Reprisal.

  Cade felt it instantly.

  Wrong.

  Distorted.

  Exactly like the voice.

  Ingrid stepped aside.

  “Welcome,” she said calmly, “to the real game.”