The chair creaked as I leaned back, the red sleeve draping carelessly off its arm. The poker chip spun across my knuckles, a little flicker of motion that drew more eyes than I cared to count.
The dealer's gaze darted to me, then back to his cards. He tried to hide it, but I saw the sweat darkening the edge of his collar.
Fear was as useful a currency as gold in a place like this.
The table was full — a merchant with rings stacked so thick his fingers looked swollen, a young noble already drunk enough that his smile sagged, a woman in black silk whose eyes tracked every movement like a hawk sizing its prey.
Predators. Prey. The line between them blurred with every hand dealt.
"Buy in?" the dealer asked, voice clipped, trying to keep control of the room.
I let the silence drag until his knuckles whitened against the deck. Then I tossed a pouch onto the felt. The weight landed with a dull, satisfying thud.
