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"And poker nights with family," Vega adds, his eyes finding mine across the table. "That's important. Having people you can trust."

"Trust is everything," I agree, raising the bet. "Especially in dangerous times."

"Exactly." Vega matches my raise without hesitation. "Recent events have reminded me how quickly situations can change. How important it is to know where people's loyalties lie."

Marcus clears his throat, tossing in his cards. "I'm out this hand. Anyone need another beer?"

The interruption breaks the tension momentarily, but it rebuilds immediately as Vega leans back in his chair, studying me with open curiosity.

"You know, Reign, I've been thinking about our conversation the other night. About protection and security arrangements."His good hand gestures vaguely toward his sling. "Recent events have made me more aware of vulnerabilities."

The offer is clearly a test, a way to draw me into his orbit, to create professional obligations that would complicate whatever he suspects.

"I'm selective about my clients," I reply, calling his bet. "Have to be sure our values align."

"Values?" Ben looks confused. "It's security work."

Vega chuckles, but his eyes never leave mine. "Your brother understands that effective protection requires more than technical expertise. It requires understanding what truly motivates people."

"And what motivates you?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

"Protecting what's mine." His answer is immediate, definitive. "Making sure certain boundaries are respected."

The words hang between us like a gauntlet thrown down. We're not talking about security contracts anymore. This is about territories and claims and lines that have already been crossed.

"Boundaries are important," I agree, my voice carefully controlled. "Clear communication prevents problems."

"Exactly." Vega discards two cards, then arranges his replacement cards with deliberate precision. When the betting comes around to him, he pushes a significant stack of chips forward. "I'll raise."

I study my hand—five hearts in sequence, nine through king. A straight flush, one of the strongest hands possible in poker. The odds of getting dealt this combination are astronomical, but here it sits in my palm like destiny.

"Call," I say, matching his bet and adding more chips to the pot.

Ben and Marcus fold quickly, sensing the real battle is between Vega and me. Koda watches silently, his weathered face revealing nothing.

"Let's see what you've got," Vega says, setting down his cards with obvious satisfaction. Three kings and two eights. A full house. In most games, it would be a winning hand.

I lay down my cards one by one, revealing the straight flush. Five hearts in perfect sequence, an unbeatable combination that makes Vega's strong hand look ordinary by comparison.

"Lucky draw," Vega observes, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.

"Skill and patience," I correct, gathering the chips toward me. "Know when to hold, know when to fold."

Ben whoops, but the celebration feels forced. Even he's starting to pick up on the undercurrents now.

Vega and I remain locked in our staring contest across the table, both understanding that this game—the real game—is just beginning. He came here for a reason, and it wasn't to play cards with Ben's training camp.

He came to send a message. And now it's my turn to figure out exactly what that message is.

The rest of the evening plays out like a chess match disguised as a poker game. Vega wins some hands, loses others, but never stops watching. Every question sounds casual, every comment seems innocent, but I can feel him cataloging information with each exchange. He asks about Ben's training schedule, about the cabin's security setup, about how often we all get together like this. By the time he finally leaves around midnight, I feel like I've been interrogated by a professional.

Ben walks him to the door, thanking him for coming and for the expensive scotch. Vega's security detail materializes from the darkness, escorting him to his SUV with practiced efficiency.The rest of us watch from the windows until his taillights disappear down the mountain road.

"Well, that was interesting," Ben says, returning to the poker table where we're gathering up the chips.

"One way to put it," Koda mutters, his weathered face grim.

Marcus and I exchange another look. Neither of us speaks, but the message is clear—this conversation needs to happen privately.