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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE SCENT OF desperation, rolling dice, and money filled the air the moment I stepped into The Pit . The underground gambling house pulsed with the kind of energy I’d come to respect, bets were high, rules were loose, and fortunes flipped faster than a coin tossed in anger.

Thunder was there, leaning against the bar with a beer in one hand and a sharp eye on the tables. “Look who finally decided to show up,” he muttered, handing off the bottle to one of the girls as he pushed off the counter. “Thought you done abandoned me, brother.”

I grunted, scanning the room. “You know I’ve been handlin’ shit. You keepin’ this place in one piece?”

He snorted. “Place runs just fine. Had a couple dumbasses think they could skim off the top last week. We handled it. Nobody steals from The Pit and walks out with their kneecaps intact.”

I smirked. “Let me guess—Horse’s idea?”

Thunder shrugged, but the grin on his face gave him away. “Let’s just say they won’t be sittin’ at any tables for a while.”

I took a slow walk through the floor, eyes sweeping over the regulars, seasoned players locked into their seats, chips clinking as they pushed luck and cash across green felt. A haze of smoke hung near the ceiling, and quiet hum of conversation wrapped around the clatter of dice and cards. Toward the back, a private room guarded the high rollers—the ones who didn’t blink at five-figure losses.

Thunder followed my gaze. “Want me to bring you up to speed?”

I gave a nod and followed him into the back office. A massive safe was built into the wall behind the desk, the kind of thing that sent a clear message. Thunder flipped open a worn ledger, thumbing through the pages as he gave the rundown.

“Numbers are solid. House is raking it in. We had a couple big wins last night, but nothing that hurts us. No outside threats sniffin’ around—yet.”

I ran a hand over my jaw, the gears already turning. “That won’t last. Dragon Fire’s gettin’ bolder. They’ll try to sink their teeth into anything that feeds our pockets.”

Thunder’s expression darkened. “You think they’ll come for The Pit?”

“They’ll come for whatever keeps us fed and standin’,” I said. “If they start sniffin’ around here, we shut that shit down before it even starts.”

He gave a short nod, then added, “With Chain’s baby sister movin’ out, we need to find renters for the house upstairs.”

The Pit was tucked beneath a regular house on a quiet street—cheap rent, nothing suspicious to anyone passing by. A perfect cover.

“Can you handle it?” I asked, already not in the mood to juggle one more thing. “Run the usual checks. I want background reports, club references—no strangers under that roof.”

Thunder cracked his knuckles and gave a half grin. “You know I got your back. Whatever you need.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting back toward the floor beyond the office. The Pit had been mine for years. It was controlled chaos, a language I understood. But tonight, something in the air felt different. Like the room was off by one beat. Or maybe that was just me.

Because she wasn’t here.

I clenched my fists at the thought, forcing the image of her from my mind. Zeynep was back at the clubhouse—safe, healing. That’s where I needed to focus. But some part of me—deep, instinctive, cold—could feel the shift.

“Keep eyes on everything,” I told Thunder as I pushed off the desk. “If anythin’ shifts, I want to know about it before it happens.”

Thunder gave a sharp nod. “Done. You stickin’ around?”

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders until the tension cracked. “Not tonight. Got somewhere to be.” Didn’t say where. Didn’t have to.

Thunder just smirked and shook his head. “You’re in deep, brother.”

Maybe. But tonight I didn’t have it in me to care.

I stepped out of the office and gave the floor one last scan, everything looked normal on the surface. Cards shuffling, cash stacking, music low and steady. But I couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. Like the room had shifted a degree to the left and no one had noticed but me.

I was halfway to the stairs when the back door creaked open, and Tanner—one of the new prospects—came through fast, face pale, breath short.

Thunder stiffened. “What’s the rush?”

Tanner looked at me, eyes wide. “You might want to come take a look out back.”

I followed him through the loading hallway, boots hitting loud against the concrete. As soon as the door opened, I felt it—cold air and tension, thick as oil.

Tanner pointed toward the trees at the edge of the lot. “I was out here takin’ a smoke break. Thought I saw movement. Figured it was nothin’, but then I heard a bike engine cut out. Quiet. Too quiet. Like someone was coastin’.”

I stared into the darkness, my hand drifting to the pistol under my cut. “You see anyone?”

He shook his head. “No, but... someone was out there. I swear it.”

Thunder had stepped out behind us, eyes scanning the tree line. “Could be nothin’. Could be someone watching.”

I nodded slowly. My gut already knew the answer. No one watched The Pit unless they were planning to bleed it.

I took one step toward the lot, letting the silence stretch.

“Double security,” I said, voice flat. “No one walks in or out without bein’ clocked. I want eyes on the back, front, and both corners. They’re not inside yet—but they’re close.”

Thunder nodded. “You think it’s Dragon Fire?”

“I don’t think,” I muttered. “I know .”

Behind us, the sound of the tables carried on. Cards shuffled. Dice rolled. Men laughed over their next win or loss.

But in my gut, I felt it.

The game had already changed.