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"Don't you fucking move, Pact Holder." The cuff snapped around my wrist before I could pull my hand off the pot.
Cold. Too tight. Biting right into the bone.
"Hey. Hey, get off me," I said. "You got the wrong guy. I just sat down."
"Wrong guy with the right deck?" The loser from the last hand wasn't crying anymore. He was grinning. He flipped his jacket open and there it was. Black badge. Silver circle. Council seal. "Cole Mercer. Rogue holder. Unregistered Pact Deck. You're coming with us."
The doors locked. Click. Click. Click. All around the room. Like the whole underground had just sealed shut.
Eve didn't move. She was still sitting next to me, legs crossed, drink untouched. But her hand found my knee under the table. Squeezed. Hard. A warning.
"Silas is here," she whispered, so low I almost didn't hear it. "Don't run. Don't swing. Don't be stupid."
"Too late for that," I muttered.
The back door opened and the air changed. Went dead quiet. Cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
He walked in like he owned the floor. Which, yeah, he did. Tall. Sharp suit. Hair slicked back. No smile. Eyes that didn't blink enough. Two enforcers behind him, bigger than the door frame.
Silas Quinn.
"Mr. Mercer," he said. His voice was soft. Polite. That made it worse. "Do you know what the fine is for playing an unbound deck in Ashen City?"
"No idea," I said. "Enlighten me."
"Ten years. Per card played." He stopped at our table. Looked down at the deck in front of me. My deck. The cards were still warm. Still humming. "You played three. That's thirty years. You don't have thirty years to give, Mr. Mercer. So the Council will take something else."
My wrist throbbed where the cuff was. The metal was getting hotter.
"Take it off," I said.
"No."
"Take it off or I break your guy's nose."
One of the enforcers actually laughed. Silas didn't.
Eve cut in, smooth, all business. "Arbiter Quinn. He's with me. Brokered. Under my license. You know the protocol. Unregistered holders get a grace period if a licensed broker claims them."
Silas looked at her then. Really looked at her. And the temperature dropped another ten degrees.
"Eve Vane," he said. "Still collecting strays? Your license is already on probation. You want to add a rogue deck to your file?"
"He's not rogue," she said. Her hand was still on my knee. Her nails dug in a little. "His contract came to me through succession. Dead man's bequest. It's valid. Check the ledger."
"I did." Silas pulled a thin black card from his inside pocket and dropped it on the table. It landed with a soft thud but the whole table shook. "The previous holder, Daniel Mercer. Your uncle, Mr. Mercer? He died owing the Council seven favors. The deck is collateral. It belongs to us."
My stomach dropped. "My uncle didn't own shit. He left me that box. That's it."
"He left you his debt," Silas said. "That's how succession works. You took the cards, you took the chain."
"That's bullshit," I snapped. I tried to stand. The cuff yanked me back down. The enforcer's hand clamped on my shoulder, heavy as hell. "I didn't sign anything."
"You played," Silas said simply. "That's a signature."
Eve leaned forward. I could feel her breath, quick and hot against my cheek. Perfume and cold coffee. Her shoulder pressed against mine. Forced close. Too close.
"Silas, come on," she said, and her voice went lower, sweeter, dangerous. "You don't want to do a seizure here. Too many witnesses. Too much paperwork. Give him a week. Let me bring him into compliance. You know I can."
"You can't control him," Silas said.
"Watch me," she said.
Silas stared at her. Then at me. His eyes flicked to where her hand was on my leg. To how close we were sitting. A little smile touched his mouth. Not a nice one.
"Forced proximity," he said. "How... broker-like of you, Eve. You think if you keep him on a leash, the Council will look away?"
"I think if you drag him out of here in cuffs, the other tables will think the Council's scared of one broke ex-cop with a dead man's deck," she shot back. "Bad look for you."
That landed. Silas's jaw tightened, just a fraction.
I looked at Eve. She didn't look at me. Her eyes were locked on Silas, but her thumb was making this tiny, frantic circle on my knee. Tell her you're with me, that circle said. Play along.
"I'm with her," I said. My voice came out rougher than I wanted. "She's my broker. So back off."
"Your broker?" Silas raised an eyebrow. "You understand what that means? She owns your contract. She can call your deck. She can call you. Any time. Any place. You become her asset."
"Better her than you," I said.
Eve's breath hitched. Just for a second. Her fingers tightened.
Silas laughed, quiet. "You have no idea what you're choosing."
He snapped his fingers. The enforcer let go of my shoulder and unlocked the cuff. My wrist was red, raw, with a perfect circle burned into the skin where the metal had been. It pulsed.
Silas slid another card across the felt toward me. Black, with gold edges. No suit. No number. Just an address and a time, written in ink that moved.
THE HELL-TABLE. SEVEN DAYS. MIDNIGHT.
"Here's my offer, Mr. Mercer," Silas said. He leaned down, palms flat on the table, face inches from mine. I could smell mint and something metallic, like blood. "You like playing so much? Then play for keeps. One week. You bring that deck to the Hell-Table yourself. You, me, and Eve as your broker. You win, your uncle's debt is wiped. You lose..."
"I lose what?" I said.
"Everything the deck hasn't taken yet," he said. "Your sister's marker included. We hold her note, remember? Three years left on her soul-debt. I can call it in tomorrow."
My hands went cold. "You touch my sister and I'll—"
"You'll what?" Silas whispered. "You're an ex-cop with thirty years of debt and a deck you can't control. What exactly will you do?"
I had nothing. No badge. No gun. No years to bet. Just this humming box of devil cards and a woman pressed against my side who technically owned me now.
Eve's hand slid up from my knee to my wrist, covering that burn. Her palm was warm. Too warm. Her eyes finally met mine and they were pissed and scared and saying don't you dare say no.
"Say yes," she hissed under her breath, so only I could hear. "Cole, say yes. Please."
"One week," Silas said, louder, for the whole room to hear. He tapped the black card. "You bring the deck to the Hell-Table. You play by Council rules. Or I come collect. The deck, the girl, your sister. All of it. Do we have a deal, Pact Holder?"
The deck on the table pulsed once, hard, like a heartbeat. A card on top flipped itself over. Face up. Blank, then ink bleeding fast across it.
Eve saw it and went white.
Silas saw it and smiled.
"Well," he said, "looks like your deck already—" The side door burst open and someone shouted my name, and Eve's grip on my wrist turned to ice as she whispered, "Don't look at the card, Cole, don't you dare look at—"