The broken crown cut into Scarlett's palm.
She stood in the alley, alone, watching the space where Dominic Thorne had disappeared. The drones hummed overhead, red lights blinking in the pre-dawn dark. She counted them. Twelve. Exactly as promised.
Her phone buzzed.
Not Dom.
Elena.
Board moved up. 9 AM. Crown Tower. Don't be late.
Scarlett checked the time. 4:47 AM. Four hours. She needed coffee. She needed answers. She needed to know why Vincent had died with her name on his lips and a kingdom in his shoe.
She walked.
Not toward the casino.
Toward the one place she swore she'd never return.
---
The Hollow didn't sleep.
It never did.
Scarlett moved through the narrow streets, past vendors selling synthetic adrenaline and discount neural implants. The air smelled like fried oil and desperation. She kept her head down. Her jacket collar up. The knife in her sleeve.
Three years ago, she'd fought in the basement of the Rusted Anchor.
Three years ago, she'd broken a man's ribs for $500 and a ticket out.
Now she walked past the bouncer without a word.
He recognized her.
They all did.
The basement hadn't changed.
Concrete floor.
Chain-link cage.
Bloodstains that no amount of bleach could remove.
Kai Nakamura sat in the corner booth, nursing a whiskey that cost more than the fighters made in a month. His silver-streaked hair caught the neon. His amber eyes didn't.
"You're early," he said.
"I'm punctual."
"For the board meeting? Or for me?"
Scarlett slid into the booth. She didn't touch the menu. "You knew Vincent."
"Everyone knew Vincent."
"You knew he was going to die."
Kai's smile was slow. Dangerous. "I know a lot of things. The price depends on what you want to do with the information."
"I want to know who pulled the trigger."
"Wrong question."
"Then tell me the right one."
Kai leaned forward. Close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. "Ask who benefits when the Red Ace falls. Ask why the Seven Houses let a Hollow rat take the throne." He paused. "Ask why Dominic Thorne has been watching that casino for ten years, waiting for you."
Scarlett's expression didn't change.
But her hand found the knife.
"Relax," Kai said. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I want you to win. It's more interesting."
"What's your price?"
"Access."
"To what?"
"Whatever Vincent left you." Kai's eyes dropped to her pocket. The USB. "I know encrypted files when I see them. I also know you don't have the key. Not all of it."
Scarlett stood.
"Think about it," Kai said. "Before the board takes everything. I'll be here."
She walked out.
Didn't look back.
But she felt his eyes.
Always watching.
Always betting.
---
The coffee shop was twenty blocks away.
Neutral ground.
Scarlett ordered black coffee, no sugar, and took the corner booth where she could see the door. She pulled out the USB. Turned it over in her hands.
Vincent's password had worked.
But Kai was right.
There were layers.
She'd seen the financials.
The names.
But there were files within files.
Black folders.
Encrypted again.
Different algorithm.
She needed help.
The kind she couldn't buy.
The kind that came with strings.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Again.
She answered.
"You're not at the casino." The same distorted voice. "You're not preparing for the board. You're wasting time in the Hollow."
"And you're watching me. Stalker or guardian?"
"Observer."
"Same thing."
"Different motivations." A pause. "The board meeting isn't about the debt. It's about the crown."
"The broken one?"
"The real one." Static. Then: "Vincent wasn't just a casino owner. He was the last keeper of the Hollow's secrets. The Seven Houses killed him for it. They'll kill you too."
"Why warn me?"
"Because you're the only one stupid enough to fight back."
The line died.
Scarlett stared at her coffee.
Cold now.
Bitter.
She drank it anyway.
---
Crown Tower rose from the center of Spade Island like a blade.
Glass and steel.
No warmth.
No welcome.
Scarlett walked through the revolving doors at 8:47 AM.
Thirteen minutes early.
She didn't take the elevator.
She took the stairs.
Forty-seven floors.
Her calves burned.
Her mind cleared.
By the time she reached the conference room, her heart rate was steady.
Her hands were dry.
She was ready.
The room was cold.
Too cold.
Twelve chairs.
Twelve representatives of the Seven Houses.
And one empty seat at the head of the table.
Hers.
"Ms. Vance." A woman stood. Sixty. Silver hair. Eyes like ice. "I'm Margaret Blackwood. Asher's aunt. I speak for the Diamond House."
"I know who you are."
"Then you know we voted to liquidate the Red Ace at noon." Margaret smiled. "Consider this a courtesy. Sign the papers. Walk away. Keep your life."
Scarlett didn't sit.
She walked to the window.
Looked down at Neon Bay.
Forty-seven floors.
The water was gray.
Choppy.
"I have $2 million," she said.
"Debt is $30 million."
"I have the casino."
"Worth $15 million, optimistically."
"I have Vincent's files."
Silence.
Twelve pairs of eyes.
Calculating.
Reassessing.
"What files?" Margaret asked.
"The ones that name every judge you own. Every politician. Every competitor you had eliminated." Scarlett turned. Smiled. "Shall I read them aloud?"
Bluff.
Partially.
She had names.
But not the leverage.
Not yet.
Margaret's smile didn't waver.
But her fingers tightened on her pen.
"You're bluffing."
"Then call it."
Scarlett walked to the table.
Pulled out the chair.
Sat.
"Let's vote."
---
The meeting lasted three hours.
Scarlett didn't win.
But she didn't lose.
The liquidation was postponed.
Seven days.
One week to prove she could turn the Red Ace profitable.
One week to find Vincent's real killer.
One week to survive.
She walked out of Crown Tower at noon.
The sun was too bright.
Her phone had seventeen messages.
Elena: What happened?
Marcus: They're asking questions.
Unknown number: You played that well. For an amateur.
And one from a number she didn't recognize but somehow knew.
Asher Blackwood: We should talk. Properly.
She deleted it.
Walked three blocks.
Found a bench overlooking the water.
Opened her laptop.
The USB.
The black folders.
She stared at them.
Then she did something she swore she'd never do.
She called for help.
---
Jules Sterling answered on the first ring.
"Scar?"
"Don't use my name."
"Right. Sorry. Habit." Background noise. Keyboard clicks. Always working. "I saw the board meeting results. Postponed, not canceled. That's... actually impressive."
"I need your help."
Silence.
Longer than expected.
"You never ask for help."
"I'm asking now."
"What's the price?"
"Access. Whatever I find, you see. Whatever you learn, I know." Scarlett paused. "And you teach me. No more secrets. No more protective bullshit. I want to understand what I'm fighting."
Jules exhaled.
"I'll be there in twenty."
"Make it ten."
"Scar—"
"Ten minutes, Jules. Or I find someone else."
She hung up.
Didn't wait for an answer.
She knew he'd come.
They always did.
---
He arrived in nine.
Red-brown curls messy.
Freckles more prominent in the sunlight.
Green eyes worried.
He sat beside her on the bench. Didn't touch her. Knew better.
"The files?"
She handed him the USB.
He plugged it into his tablet. His fingers flew. Code scrolling faster than she could read.
"Vincent used military-grade encryption. Layered. Nested." Jules frowned. "This isn't just financials. This is... everything. The Seven Houses. Their competitors. Their sins."
"Can you crack it?"
"Not here. Not on this." He looked at her. "I need my lab. I need time. I need you to trust me."
"I trust your skills."
"Not the same thing."
"It's what I'm offering."
Jules studied her. Three years of friendship. Or whatever they called it. Three years of late nights and encrypted messages and him watching her sleep through security cameras when she didn't know he was watching.
"There's a condition," he said.
"Name it."
"When this is over—when you win or lose—you let me tell you something. Something I've been holding back. No running. No deflecting. You listen."
Scarlett's jaw tightened.
"Fine."
"Say it."
"Fine. When this is over, I'll listen."
Jules smiled.
Rare.
Worth more than he knew.
"Then let's go crack a kingdom."
---
His lab was in the basement of a pizza place on Heart Island.
The smell of dough and oregano covered the ozone and solder.
Three screens.
Seven servers.
A cot in the corner where he slept when the work took too long.
Scarlett had been here twice before.
Both times, she'd left before dawn.
Both times, she'd pretended not to notice the way he looked at her.
"Start with the black folders," she said.
"Already on it." Jules plugged the USB into his main terminal. "The outer layer was the password. Vincent's favorite student. His greatest gamble."
"Me."
"You." Jules didn't look at her. "The next layer is biometric. Fingerprint. Retinal. Voice."
"He's dead."
"Doesn't matter. The system doesn't know that. Or care." He turned. "I need something of his. Something with his cells. Hair. Skin. Blood."
Scarlett reached into her jacket.
Pulled out the envelope.
Vincent's letter.
She'd kept it.
Jules took it.
Careful.
Reverent.
He scraped residue from the seal.
Loaded it into the scanner.
"One try," he said. "After that, the files self-delete."
"Then don't miss."
The machine hummed.
Red light.
Green light.
Beep.
ACCESS GRANTED
The screens exploded with data.
Financial flows.
Property records.
And photos.
Dozens of photos.
Vincent with men she didn't recognize.
Vincent with women who looked like her.
Same hair.
Same eyes.
Same stubborn jaw.
"Who are they?" she asked.
"Your predecessors," Jules said quietly. "Vincent trained them. Gambled on them. Lost them."
"To what?"
"To the game." He pulled up another file. "The Hollow isn't random. It's a recruitment pool. The Seven Houses use it to find talent. Raw. Hungry. Desperate enough to do anything."
Scarlett stared at the photos.
Girls with her face.
Her fire.
Her scars.
All dead.
All forgotten.
"Why me?" she asked. "Why did I survive?"
"Because you didn't just fight." Jules turned to her. His eyes were too soft. Too seeing. "You calculated. You waited. You learned when to show your hand and when to bury it." He paused. "Vincent didn't choose you because you were the strongest. He chose you because you were the smartest."
"And now he's dead."
"And now you're the only one left who knows the rules."
Scarlett stood.
Walked to the cot.
Sat.
Her hands were shaking.
She hid them in her jacket.
"There's more," Jules said. "A final file. Triple-encrypted. I can't open it. Not without..."
"Without what?"
"Without the key. Physical. Hardware. Vincent would have kept it somewhere safe. Somewhere only you could find."
Scarlett thought.
The casino.
The penthouse.
The left shoe.
She'd found the USB.
But what else?
"The chair," she said.
"What?"
"Vincent's chair. Custom leather. Built-in compartments. He always said..."
She stopped.
Remembered.
The best hiding places are the ones you sit on every day.
"I'm going back," she said.
"Now? The board has eyes on the casino. They'll know."
"Let them know."
Scarlett stood.
Walked to the door.
"Scar."
She stopped.
Didn't turn.
"The condition. When this is over."
"I remember."
"You won't run?"
She looked over her shoulder.
Smiled.
Not the cold one.
Not the calculated one.
Something real.
Something dangerous.
"I don't run, Jules. I charge."
She walked out.
Into the afternoon light.
Toward the casino.
Toward the chair.
Toward the final key.
---
The Red Ace was quiet at 3 PM.
Shift change.
Minimum staff.
Scarlett walked through the service entrance.
Nodded to the security guard.
He didn't stop her.
She owned the place.
Technically.
The elevator to the penthouse required a keycard.
She used Vincent's.
Found in his desk.
Along with a gun she didn't know how to use.
The doors opened.
The crime scene tape was gone.
The blood cleaned.
But the chair remained.
Leather.
Custom.
Hers now.
She ran her hands along the seams.
Felt for irregularities.
Found it.
Beneath the left armrest.
A click.
A compartment.
Small.
Hidden.
She opened it.
A key.
Not metal.
Crystal.
Clear.
Etched with the same symbol as the card Dom gave her.
The broken crown.
And a note.
Vincent's handwriting.
Shaking.
Final.
They know you're coming. The Houses. The Hollow. Everyone who plays the game.
This key opens the real Red Ace. The one beneath the casino. The one where we started.
Don't trust Thorne. Don't trust the boy with the computers. Don't trust anyone who knew me.
Except one.
The one who never bet against you.
Find him. Find the truth. End the game.
Or burn it all down.
—V
Scarlett closed her fist around the key.
Felt its weight.
Its promise.
Her phone buzzed.
Elena: They're coming. Black SUVs. Ten minutes.
Unknown number: You found it. Good. Now run.
Asher Blackwood: Whatever you found, I can help. I can explain. Please.
Three messages.
Three choices.
Three versions of the same trap.
Scarlett smiled.
Put the key in her pocket.
Walked to the window.
Looked down at Neon Bay.
Forty-seven floors.
She didn't run.
She took the stairs.
Down.
Past the lobby.
Past the guards.
Into the basement.
The real Red Ace was waiting.
And she was done being patient.