The bodies stayed where they fell.
Cole didn't bother with them.
He walked until the smell of blood thinned and the land forgot what had happened. The road did that sometimes—took a memory and folded it into itself until it looked like nothing more than dirt and heat.
His arm bled slow. His ribs burned steady. The missing thing inside his head didn't hurt.
That was the part that scared him.
Dusty kept pace at his left knee, eyes up, ears working. The dog didn't look back either. He didn't need to. Whatever had followed them before wasn't following now.
Cole felt it anyway.
The House was close.
Not pressing.
Hovering.
Like it was deciding whether to speak.
He made camp in the open, on purpose. No cut. No rocks. No cover worth naming. If something wanted him, he wanted it to come honest.
He cleaned his arm with water he couldn't afford to waste and bound it tight. The ribs he left alone. Some pains earned their place.
He ate a strip of dried meat. Chewed slow. Swallowed slower.
Dusty ate more than usual, then sat facing the dark with his back to Cole, shoulders squared like he'd taken a job.
The stars came out sharp and mean.
Cole lay back and waited.
It didn't take long.
The air shifted—not wind, not sound. Just a tightening, like the world had leaned its weight onto one foot.
A man stepped out of nowhere.
Not from shadow. Not from distance.
Just… present.
Dealer.
Different one this time.
Older. Thinner. Face cut with lines that weren't age so much as repetition. He wore no coat markings, no theatrical tells. Plain clothes. Clean hands.
The kind of man who existed only to witness transactions.
Cole didn't reach for his gun.
"Evening," the Dealer said.
Cole didn't answer.
The Dealer looked around at the empty land, the open sky, the lack of table. "You choose interesting places to rest."
"I don't choose," Cole said. "I stop."
The Dealer nodded like he'd expected that answer. "You've been busy."
"So I hear."
The Dealer smiled faintly. Not friendly. Not cruel. Just acknowledgment. "Four hands resolved at once. That's unusual."
Cole sat up, slow. His ribs complained. He ignored them.
"You here to congratulate me," Cole said, "or collect."
The Dealer considered him. Really looked this time. At the blood-stained sleeve. The way Cole held himself like a man who'd lost something important and decided not to go looking for it.
"I'm here because you forced a convergence," the Dealer said. "The House noticed."
"Good," Cole said.
The word landed heavier than he'd meant it to.
The Dealer's eyes narrowed a fraction. "That wasn't advice."
"Didn't sound like it."
Silence stretched. Not hostile. Evaluative.
Finally, the Dealer said, "There's an outstanding imbalance."
Cole snorted. "You'll have to be more specific."
The Dealer took a step closer. Not threatening. Just closing distance the way clerks did when they wanted to see your paperwork clearly.
"You placed cards without being prompted," he said. "You merged hands without offer. You dictated terms mid-resolution."
Cole shrugged. "They were trying to kill me."
"That's not relevant," the Dealer said gently.
Cole felt a flicker of anger. Small. Controlled. "It is to me."
The Dealer studied him for another moment, then nodded once. "Which is the problem."
The air behind the Dealer thickened. Cole felt it before he saw anything—pressure behind the eyes, then a faint shimmer, like text trying to decide whether to exist.
Nothing appeared.
The House stayed quiet.
Cole smiled thinly. "House usually talks more than this."
"Yes," the Dealer said. "Usually."
That got Cole's attention.
"You didn't come out here to lecture," Cole said. "So what do you want."
The Dealer hesitated.
Just a hair.
That was new.
"There is a correction available," he said finally. "Optional."
Cole laughed once. Short. Humorless. "You don't do optional."
The Dealer didn't argue. "True."
He reached into his coat and produced nothing.
No deck. No chips.
Just empty hands.
Cole stiffened.
"What's the wager," he said.
The Dealer's voice stayed level. "There isn't one. Not offered."
Cole's smile vanished.
"You don't show up empty unless you're trying something," Cole said.
"Yes," the Dealer said. "That's why I'm here."
The pressure behind Cole's eyes sharpened.
Text flickered into existence at the edge of his vision—unstable, like it didn't want to stay.
HOUSE OF RECKONING // RULE CONFLICT DETECTED
Cole's pulse didn't spike. It settled.
He'd felt this before, faintly. Moments where the House's certainty slipped.
"You're not supposed to be here," Cole said.
The Dealer met his gaze. "Neither are you."
They stood like that for a long breath.
Then Cole said, "I want a wager."
The Dealer's eyes widened a fraction. "You've had enough."
"That wasn't a request."
The Dealer glanced upward, not at the sky—past it. As if listening to something arguing with itself.
"I can't offer terms," he said.
"I didn't ask you to."
The Dealer looked back at Cole. "You don't understand what you're pushing against."
Cole thought of four dead men. Of a face he could no longer picture.
"I understand cost," he said. "I just don't like when you decide it without me."
Silence again.
Longer this time.
The House flickered.
Text snapped into place, abrupt and sharp.
UNAUTHORIZED WAGER ATTEMPT
SOURCE: SUBJECT
STATUS: INVALID
Cole didn't blink.
He stepped forward.
Not fast.
Not aggressive.
Just close enough to matter.
"I'm placing it anyway," he said.
The Dealer sucked in a breath.
"You can't—"
Cole cut him off. "I wager clarity."
The word felt right coming out of his mouth. Heavy. Clean.
The air reacted.
Not violently.
Curiously.
Text jittered, lines overlapping, then resolving.
WAGER — PENDING
ANTE: NONE DECLARED
REWARD: UNDEFINED
RISK: SYSTEM INSTABILITY
The Dealer took a step back. "Cole—"
Cole didn't look at him. He was watching the text. Watching the way it hesitated.
"I'm tired of being nudged," Cole said. "Tired of finding out what I lost after the fact. You want me on the board? Fine."
The pressure spiked.
For a moment, the world felt thin, like paper stretched too tight.
Then—
The House blinked.
Just once.
Text cleared. Rewrote itself.
WAGER ACCEPTED
ANTE: INFORMATION (MINOR)
REWARD: INFORMATION (MINOR)
The Dealer stared.
"That's not possible," he said.
Cole felt something settle behind his eyes. Not loss. Not gain.
Alignment.
"What do I lose," Cole said.
The House answered immediately.
INFORMATION: WITHHELD
DETAILS: FUTURE EVENTS (MINOR)
Cole exhaled.
That was fairer than most deals he'd been offered.
"And the reward," he said.
Text paused.
Then typed, slower than usual.
INFORMATION: DISPENSED
STATUS UPDATE: ACCOUNT FLAGGED
DESIGNATION: LIABILITY
The word burned brighter than the rest.
Liability.
The Dealer looked like he'd been punched.
"You don't understand," he said. "That means—"
"I know what it means," Cole said.
It meant he cost more than he returned.
It meant the House would start limiting exposure.
It meant mistakes would stop being smoothed over.
It meant—
He smiled, small and hard.
"It means you're going to have to pay attention to me."
The Dealer shook his head. "You've made yourself a problem."
Cole shrugged. "Been one for a while."
The air relaxed.
The text vanished.
The House went quiet again—but this time, it felt different. Not distant.
Alert.
The Dealer stepped back another pace. "I shouldn't have come."
Cole watched him. "You came because you were sent."
The Dealer didn't deny it.
"What happens now," the Dealer asked.
Cole looked past him, down the open road where dawn was starting to thin the dark.
"Now," Cole said, "you stop pretending this is one-sided."
The Dealer hesitated, then nodded once. "Be careful."
Cole almost laughed again.
"Too late," he said.
The Dealer faded—not vanished, not dramatic. Just stepped into a space that decided to close behind him.
The land went still.
Dusty turned and looked at Cole, head cocked.
Cole reached down and scratched behind the dog's ear. His hand felt steady. The world felt… sharper.
Not kinder.
Sharper.
He stood and rolled his shoulders, testing the pain. It was still there. Good.
He shouldered his pack and stepped back onto the road.
Behind him, far away, something in the system adjusted its balance sheets.
Ahead of him, the road stayed open.
For now.
And somewhere deep in the House's accounting, a new note sat beside his name:
Watch this one.