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But it doesn't matter what mask she wears. Her body remembers mine.

"You sure about this?" Marcus asks once they're gone.

I watch through the doorway as Vega guides Audrey down the corridor, his hand on her back. The sight makes something primitive and violent surge in my chest.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Vega's not going to just step aside. Guy like that doesn't give up what he considers his."

"Then he's going to learn what happens when someone takes what's mine."

Marcus studies my face for a long moment, reading the determination there. "Alright. But we do this smart. Ben's career is tied to Vega's goodwill, and your brother doesn't deserve to get caught in the crossfire."

He's right. Ben has worked too hard to get where he is, and I won't let my personal vendetta destroy his future. But that doesn't mean I'm walking away from Audrey. It just means I need to be more careful about how I get her back.

"I know," I say. "Which is why we're going to that party."

Two hours later, Marcus and I arrive at the Summit. The building sits in the heart of Cooper Heights' financial district, a converted bank from the 1920s that maintains its original marble facade and brass fixtures. The main floor houses the public gaming area, but the real action happens on the upper floors, in private rooms where the stakes are higher and the players more dangerous.

Vega has reserved the entire third floor for tonight's celebration. By the time we arrive, the party is already in full swing. The room buzzes with conversation and laughter, the sound of chips clicking against each other, and the soft hum of air conditioning working to clear the cigar smoke.

I move toward a corner booth that offers clear sightlines to the bar while remaining partially hidden from the main floor. "Let's find a table with a good view."

Marcus follows, settling into the seat across from me. Ben holds court near the main poker table, still riding the high of his victory. He's changed into a tailored suit that makes him look like a young businessman rather than a fighter, and he's clearly enjoying the attention from the various power brokers and potential sponsors who want to associate themselves with his success.

Vega himself moves through the room like a politician working a crowd, shaking hands and making introductions. He's in his element here, comfortable with the power dynamics and unspoken hierarchies that govern this world.

And there, sitting at a corner table with an untouched martini in front of her, is Audrey. She's changed clothes again, now wearing a simple black dress that manages to be both elegant and understated. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek style that emphasizes the elegant line of her neck, and she wears minimal jewelry—just small diamond earrings and her engagement ring.

She looks beautiful. She also looks miserable.

“So, what's the plan?" Marcus asks, following my gaze.

"I need to get her alone," I say, my eyes never leaving Audrey. "Even for just a few minutes."

Marcus nods, unsurprised. He's known me long enough to recognize when I've made up my mind about something—or someone.

"Whatever you're planning, I'm with you," he says simply. "Just like always."

The conversation around Vega's group becomes more animated, with several men gesturing toward the poker table. I can see them trying to convince him to join the high-stakes game that's been running all evening. Vega seems interested but keeps glancing at Audrey, clearly reluctant to leave her alone.

"He's protective," Marcus observes.

"Possessive," I correct.

We continue to watch as the group dynamics shift. Ben joins the conversation, his enthusiasm infectious as he describes the knockout again. The attention shifts to him, giving Audrey a moment to step back from the center of attention.

That's when I see my opportunity.

Ben makes his way over to our table, still energized from his victory and the attention he's receiving. "Mind if I sit for a minute? Need a break from all the congratulations."

"Course," Marcus says, sliding over to make room. "Hell of a fight tonight."

"Thanks." Ben settles into the booth, accepting the beer Marcus signals for from a passing server. "I still can't believe I dropped him that clean. Felt perfect when it landed."

"Looked perfect, too," I tell him. "That uppercut was surgical."

Ben grins, clearly still processing his victory. "Gio's already talking about bigger fights. Says this performance opens doors that were closed before."