Chapter 27 - Chapter 27: Bring It Home

Las Vegas never truly slept. It just changed masks. The Strip was a serpent — gold scales in daylight, venom by night. Tonight, its fangs pointed straight toward Chinatown, a place where the pretense of luck ran thin and the city's true economy of favors and threats operated in the open. Away from the blinding glamour and the glass towers of corporate risk, the air grew thicker, heavier, laced with the metallic smell of frying oil from late-night woks, the sweet, smoky scent of incense burning low, and the unmistakable dry heat of asphalt still radiating the day's desert sun.