The next morning, Marcus's mom was up before dawn, folding dumplings in the kitchen. The smell of ginger filled the apartment, but Marcus's stomach was in knots. He'd barely slept—Wolf's offer replayed in his head, over and over. Money laundering. If he got caught, he'd go to jail. But if he didn't, his mom would lose the restaurant.
"Marcus? You okay?" his mom asked, handing him a warm dumpling. "You look sick."
Marcus took it, biting into the pork filling. "I'm fine, Mom. Just nervous about a test."
She didn't believe him—her eyes softening. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. We're family."
Before Marcus could answer, the doorbell rang. He froze. Wolf's men. But when he opened the door, it was Carlos. The senior leaned against the frame, a smirk on his face.
"Heard you won big at the casino," Carlos said, popping gum. "Where's the money, chino? I want my cut. Five hundred bucks. For 'protection.'"
Marcus's jaw tightened. "I don't have it."
Carlos laughed, pushing past him into the apartment. His mom gasped, dropping a dumpling wrapper. "Get out of my house!" she said, her voice shaking.
Carlos ignored her, staring at Marcus. "You think you're tough now? Hanging with that blonde chick? I saw you two at the burger joint. You owe me. And if you don't pay—" He nodded at the window. "I'll tell Wolf you're hiding chips. See how he likes that."
Marcus's blood ran cold. Carlos knew about Wolf. He must have been watching him. "Fine," Marcus said, pulling $500 from his pocket—the money he'd won last night. "Take it. And leave my mom alone."
Carlos took the money, counting it. "Smart kid. Next time, don't make me ask twice." He left, slamming the door.
Marcus's mom hugged him, her body trembling. "We have to leave, Marcus. This is too dangerous."
"I can't, Mom," Marcus said, pulling away. "Not yet. I need one more day."
He grabbed his backpack and ran to school. Claire was waiting by the lockers, her backpack slung over one shoulder. "You're late," she said, handing him a granola bar. "Did something happen?"
Marcus told her about Carlos, about the $500, about the threat to tell Wolf. Claire's face hardened. "We need to take care of Carlos. But first—we need to win today. The high-stakes game is at 8. Wolf's guys will be there. If we can win $8,500, we're done."
She pulled out a new map—this one of the casino's ventilation system. "My dad's notes say there's a vent above the poker table. No cameras. If you need to switch a card, I can distract them by tripping the fire alarm. It'll buy you 30 seconds."
Marcus nodded, but his mind was on Wolf's offer. Laundering. He could "lose" chips to Wolf's guys, pay off the debt, and keep his mom safe. But what about Claire? What about her dad?
They spent lunch in the library, practicing Marcus's card trick. He could now slip a card up his sleeve and back without looking. Claire watched, her eyes focused. "You're ready," she said. "But remember—if it goes south, we run. Your mom's restaurant isn't worth getting arrested for."
Marcus's throat tightened. She didn't know about the laundering. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. Wolf's warning echoed in his head—Don't tell Claire.
That night, the Lucky Star was packed. Jake was at the door, checking IDs. He nodded at Marcus, a smirk on his face. Claire, in her uniform, walked over to the high-stakes table—$500 buy-in. Marcus took a deep breath and followed.
The table was full: Wolf's three guys, a businessman, and a woman in a red dress. The dealer was Tony, back from his break. Marcus bought in, sliding $500 across the table.
The game started. Marcus got a bad hand—2 and 7 of spades. He folded. The next hand: ace and king of hearts. He bet $100. Everyone called. The flop came: queen of hearts, 10 of diamonds, 3 of clubs. Straight draw.
Wolf's guy, a tall man named Viktor, bet $300. Marcus hesitated. He looked at Claire—she was refilling Tony's cherry Coke, her eyes flicking to the vent.
Marcus called. The turn was a 9 of hearts. Straight. He bet $500. Viktor called. The river was a 8 of hearts. Royal flush.
Marcus's heart raced. He was about to bet all in when Jake walked over. "Wolf wants a word," he said, pulling Marcus aside.
In the back office, Wolf was smoking a cigar. "You're winning too much," he said. "Time to start 'losing.' Viktor's my guy. Next hand, you fold. Even if you have a royal flush."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "What if I don't?"
Wolf smiled, cold and sharp. "Then I send Jake to your mom's restaurant. He likes breaking things. Especially woks."
Marcus nodded. He had no choice.
When he returned to the table, the next hand was dealt. Marcus got a pair of aces. Viktor bet $1,000. Marcus's hands shook. He looked at Claire—she was watching, her face confused.
He folded.
Viktor grinned, showing his cards—a pair of 5s. Claire's eyes widened. She knew he'd folded a winning hand.
The game continued. Marcus folded every winning hand, "losing" $2,000 to Viktor. By 10 PM, he had only $300 left.
Claire pulled him aside as he left. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice tight. "You folded a royal flush. That's impossible."
Marcus's throat tightened. He couldn't lie anymore. "Wolf's blackmailing me. He wants me to launder money. If I don't, he'll hurt my mom."
Claire's face paled. "We have to stop him. My dad's notes—he has a warehouse on 12th Street. That's where he keeps the laundered money. We can call the FBI. Miller—my dad's partner—he'll help."
Marcus shook his head. "We don't have time. Tomorrow's the last day. I need to win $8,200. But I can't if I'm folding every good hand."
Claire grabbed his arm. "Then we don't fold. We outsmart him. My dad's notes say Wolf's warehouse has no security on Thursdays. We can go tonight. Find evidence. Blackmail him back."
Marcus stared at her. It was crazy. Reckless. But it was the only way.
He nodded. "Let's go."
They walked to 12th Street, the night dark and quiet. The warehouse was a large, windowless building. Claire pulled a bobby pin from her hair—her dad's trick, she said—and picked the lock.
Inside, it was dark. Claire pulled out her phone's flashlight. Rows of boxes lined the walls. Marcus opened one—filled with cash. Another—filled with chips, the same weighted ones from the casino.
"Look," Claire said, pointing to a ledger. "Wolf's records. Names, amounts, dates. This is enough to put him in jail."
Marcus took the ledger, his hands shaking. They had evidence. They could stop Wolf.
Then the lights turned on.
Wolf stood in the doorway, Jake and two other guys behind him. "Nice try, kids," Wolf said, grinning. "But you're not leaving here."