Chapter 22 · Life as a Chip

"Sit. Down. Now," the man sneered, his voice like gravel grinding in a blender.

He didn't wait for me to move. A heavy hand slammed onto my shoulder, shoving me back into the velvet chair with enough force to rattle my teeth. Beside me, Evelyn stiffened, her breath hitching in a way that told me she was terrified—even if her face remained a mask of ice.

"We aren't here for pleasantries, Kane," the proxy said. He was one of Marcus’s dogs, a mid-level enforcer named Silas who thought a tailored suit made him look like a king. He leaned over the table, his shadow swallowing us. "My boss doesn't like it when people play dead and then crawl back to the table. Especially not Discards."

I leaned back, feeling the cold sweat prickle my neck. "Funny. I don't remember Marcus ever caring about manners. Just results."

"You're in no position to joke," Silas snapped. He slid a black chip across the table. It wasn't plastic. It was carved from soul-stone, humming with a low, sickly violet light. "This is a debt marker. A life-bond. You sign it, or you leave this room in a bag."

I glanced at Evelyn.