A week had passed since Youri and Leo had started their gig at Pyata. Some days were quiet, almost boring, with nothing more than routine patrols and polite smiles. Other days were chaos—drunk patrons, loud arguments, and nonstop trouble that kept them moving until their feet ached. But today was different.
The moment they arrived at Pyata, they knew it.
It was Friday night, and the casino was packed to the brim. The air buzzed with energy—music pulsed through hidden speakers, laughter echoed across the floor, and the constant chime of slot machines blended into a hypnotic rhythm. Lights reflected off polished marble and gold-trimmed railings, turning the entire hall into a glowing spectacle.
Kano was already waiting for them near the entrance, dressed impeccably as always. The moment he spotted them, he stepped forward with a broad smile and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"You two are doing a great job," he said warmly. "Really. I'm impressed."
Youri and Leo exchanged quick glances, unsure where this was going.
"And because of that," Kano continued, "I've decided to give you a little bonus."
He reached into his jacket and handed each of them a stack of casino chips. The weight of them alone made Leo's eyebrows rise.
Youri stared down at the chips in his palm. "Kano, we can't—"
"Don't argue," Kano interrupted with a chuckle. "Go. Have some fun. You've earned it."
The two hesitated, but Kano's look left no room for refusal. Eventually, they nodded, and he gave them a satisfied pat on the back before disappearing into the crowd.
They stood there for a moment, just staring at what they were holding.
"That's got to be over twenty thousand zells," Leo muttered.
Youri shifted uncomfortably. "I don't even know what to do with this."
Leo scanned the casino floor, eyes landing on a row of tables glowing beneath a crystal chandelier. "How about some blackjack?"
Youri smiled faintly. "I have no idea how to play."
Leo grinned, confidence written all over his face. "Don't worry. I got you."
They made their way to one of the blackjack tables and took their seats. Three other players were already there.
Sitting directly across from Youri was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties. A silver beard framed his sharp features, and a fedora sat low over his brow. He smoked a cigar calmly, dressed in a shiny gray suit that looked expensive without trying too hard.
To Leo's left sat another man, probably in his mid-forties. His blond hair was spiked messily, and he wore sunglasses indoors without a hint of irony. His white button-up shirt was left open just enough to reveal tattoos covering his chest, neck, and arms—dark, intricate patterns that hinted at stories better left untold.
Next to him was the last player, a younger man in his late thirties. He was bald and dressed in a plain white T-shirt, but anything simple about him ended there. Thick gold chains hung around his neck, and his wrists and fingers were heavy with watches, bracelets, and rings that caught the light every time he moved.
When Youri and Leo sat down, the three men glanced at them briefly—sharp, measuring looks—before turning their attention back to the table.
The dealer began to shuffle.
Cards were dealt smoothly, two to each player. The others peeked at their hands with practiced ease. Youri, unsure of what he was even looking for, simply stared at his cards, waiting.
One by one, the players made their calls—hit, stand—until only Youri remained.
He looked at Leo, who gave him a subtle nod.
"Call," Youri said.
The dealer nodded and motioned for everyone to reveal their hands.
One by one, the cards were laid out.
Then Youri's.
For a brief moment, the table fell silent.
Youri had won.
He blinked, confused. He hadn't even known what he was doing.
Leo let out a laugh and tapped him on the back. "Good job. Guess beginner's luck really does exist."
The chips were pushed toward him, clicking softly as they joined his stack.
And without realizing it, Youri had just taken his first step into a much deeper game
The old man across from Youri let out a low chuckle, a thin ribbon of smoke curling from the corner of his mouth as he adjusted his fedora. His silver beard caught the warm light of the chandelier above, giving him an almost regal presence.
"Beginner's luck," the man said, voice smooth and amused. "But luck has a way of recognizing potential."
Youri gave a modest nod, unsure how to respond. He didn't even fully understand what he had done right—he had followed Leo's instructions, copied what the others did, and somehow walked away with the pot.
Leo leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You hit twenty-one on your first hand without knowing it. That's… not common."
Youri blinked. "Oh."
The dealer gathered the cards with practiced efficiency and began the next round. Chips slid across the felt with soft clicks,
The man to Leo's left—the one with spiked blond hair and sunglasses despite being indoors—smirked as he placed his bet. His fingers were covered in rings, each one flashing briefly as it moved.
"Don't look so surprised, kid," he said casually. "Some people just have a good feel for the table."
The bald man drowning in gold jewelry laughed, a loud, booming sound that drew glances from nearby tables. "Yeah, or the table likes him. Happens."
Leo raised an eyebrow, finally taking a proper look at the three men. There was something about them—too relaxed, too confident. They weren't playing like men hoping to win. They were playing like men who didn't care if they lost.
The dealer dealt again.
This time, Leo guided Youri quietly, explaining when to hit, when to stand. Youri listened closely, his eyes flicking between the cards, the dealer's hands, and the subtle reactions of the players around him.
He noticed things quickly.
The old man barely glanced at his cards before making decisions. The blond man watched everyone else more than the table. The bald one exaggerated his reactions—but his eyes stayed cold, calculating.
Youri played cautiously.
And he won again.
The chips were pushed toward him.
A murmur rippled through the small cluster of onlookers nearby.
"Well, I'll be damned," Leo muttered. "You're either blessed… or cursed."
The old man leaned forward slightly, studying Youri more carefully now. "Name's Sincron," he said casually. "Sincron Marques."
The blond man clicked his tongue. "Always so formal," he said. "Aleho Pulsar."
The bald man grinned wide, flashing gold teeth. "Carter Black."
Leo froze for half a second.
Youri didn't react at all.
To him, they were just names.
But Leo knew them.
Every security guy in Vegas knew them.
Sincron Marques—money laundering kingpin with roots in three galaxy's. Aleho Pulsar—arms dealer turned casino magnate. Carter Black—enforcer-turned-boss, rumored to make people disappear without a trace.
The three biggest mafia figures in Vegas.
Sitting at a random blackjack table.
Leo swallowed hard, keeping his face neutral.
"Leo," he said carefully. "And this is Youri."
Sincron smiled thinly. "We know."
That single word carried weight.
Aleho leaned back in his chair. "Relax. If we wanted trouble, this wouldn't be the table."
Carter laughed again. "Besides, tradition's tradition."
Youri tilted his head. "Tradition?"
Sincron tapped ash into a crystal tray. "We don't play together in private rooms. Too much history. Too much mistrust. Open floor keeps things honest. Witnesses everywhere."
Aleho nodded. "Harder to cheat when everyone's watching."
Youri absorbed this quietly.
The dealer dealt again.
Sincron glanced at Youri's cards briefly, then spoke. "Hit."
Youri hesitated. Leo started to say something, but Sincron raised a finger.
"Trust the math," he said calmly. "And your instincts."
Youri hit.
Twenty-one.
The table went silent.
Aleho let out a low whistle. "Alright, now that's no accident."
Carter leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "You see patterns fast, kid."
Youri felt it then—a subtle shift. The way they looked at him wasn't curiosity anymore. It was interest.
As the game went on, they taught him.
Not like teachers—but like predators sharpening a blade.
They explained odds, probabilities, reading dealers, managing stacks. They spoke casually, almost lazily, but every word carried experience earned through decades of power and blood.
Youri listened.
And learned.
He lost some hands. Won others. But more importantly—he understood why.
The chips in front of him grew steadily.
Leo watched, half amazed, half uneasy.
"This guy," Carter said after another winning hand, nodding toward Youri, "he's dangerous."
Aleho smirked. "Not yet. But he will be."
Sincron leaned back, studying Youri through a haze of smoke. "You work here," he said. "Security, yes?"
"Yes," Youri replied honestly.
"Good," Sincron said. "Means you understand rules. Boundaries."
Youri met his gaze. "I understand when they matter."
Sincron's smile widened slightly.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Around them, the Pyata pulsed with life—music swelling, glasses clinking, laughter rising and falling. Dealers rotated. New players came and went. But the table remained.
By the time the dealer announced the end of the shoe, Youri's stack had more than tripled.
Leo stared at it. "That's… over sixty thousand zells."
Youri looked at the chips, then at his hands. They were steady.
Aleho stood and stretched. "I think that's enough fun for one night."
Carter gathered his chips. "Same time next year?"
Sincron rose last, placing a hand briefly on Youri's shoulder. It wasn't heavy—but it carried weight.
"You have a gift," he said quietly. "Not just for cards. For reading people."
Youri didn't look away. "Gifts can be dangerous."
Sincron nodded approvingly. "Exactly."
They left together, disappearing into the crowd as if they had never been there.
Leo exhaled shakily. "You have any idea who you just played with?"
Youri shrugged. "They were good teachers."
Leo laughed nervously. "That's one way to put it."
As they stood up, Kano appeared beside them, hands clasped behind his back.
"I see you enjoyed the bonus," he said calmly.
Youri nodded. "I did."
Kano glanced at the now-empty chairs. "They take interest easily. And they don't do it often."
Leo frowned. "Is that… good?"
Kano smiled faintly. "Depends what you do with it."