The House didn't come loud.
It never did when it mattered.
Cole felt it first as absence—the way pressure vanished from behind his eyes like a headache letting go too fast. The air over Rustline went thin. Not cold. Just… cleared. As if something large had stepped back to get a better look.
Dusty noticed at the same moment.
The dog stiffened, ears lifting, then angled slightly toward nothing at all. Not growling. Not warning.
Listening.
Cole stood in a narrow alley behind the depot, hands resting on the low wall, watching steam crawl out of a cracked pipe and vanish into the night. The token the Queen had left sat heavy in his coat pocket, cold enough to itch.
He didn't touch it.
Didn't need to.
The House didn't like being ignored.
Text slid into view without flicker, without threat. Clean. Centered.
HOUSE OF RECKONING—SYSTEM INTERVENTION—
That alone was rare.
Cole exhaled slowly.
"So," he said. "You finally decided."
The text didn't answer right away.
That was worse.
A sound moved through Rustline—not a noise so much as a coordination. Generators synced. Lights steadied. Wind changed direction like it had been corrected.
The town paused.
Then the text continued.
IMBALANCE CONFIRMEDROYAL INTERFERENCE EXCEEDS ACCEPTABLE DEVIATION
Cole's jaw tightened.
"You noticed," he said.
The House didn't respond to tone.
CORRECTIVE ACTION REQUIREDCORRECTIVE AGENT: AVAILABLE
Cole laughed once. No humor in it.
"That's a hell of a way to say my name."
Dusty took one step closer, pressing against his leg. The dog's eyes tracked the empty space in front of them like something was standing there just out of sight.
Text sharpened.
CORRECTIVE HAND OFFEREDPARTICIPATION: VOLUNTARYDECLINING RESULTS IN ESCALATION
Cole closed his eyes for half a second.
Figures.
"What kind of hand," he asked.
The alley darkened.
Not visibly.
Conceptually.
The world leaned in.
A slab of stone pushed up from the ground between the walls, cracking old concrete like it was nothing. No table this time. No chairs.
Just a surface.
And a deck.
It rested on the stone like it had always been there, dark-backed, edges faintly luminous. Wrong in a way that made Cole's teeth ache.
Dusty growled.
The deck answered with a subtle vibration, like something acknowledging being seen.
Text followed.
HAND TYPE: CORRECTIVESCOPE: LOCALIZED (RUSTLINE)INTERFERENCE: ROYAL (KING OF SPADES)STAKE: CORE STAT (PERMANENT)
Cole's breath caught.
Permanent.
That word never appeared unless the House meant to make an example.
"Which stat," Cole asked.
The House paused.
Then—
DETERMINED BY OUTCOME
Cole opened his eyes.
"Convenient."
Dusty barked once, sharp, then went silent again, body rigid. His tail twitched, uncertain.
Cole looked down at him.
"No," Cole said quietly. "Not you."
The House responded immediately.
SECONDARY VARIABLE DETECTEDINCLUSION REQUIRED FOR BALANCE
Cole's blood went cold.
"You don't get to," he said.
The text didn't flicker.
INCLUSION IS NOT NEGOTIABLEVARIABLE VALUE: SIGNIFICANT
Dusty took a step forward, placing himself between Cole and the stone slab.
The dog's hackles rose.
The deck vibrated harder.
Cole's hand dropped to the revolver without thinking. Didn't draw. Just found it.
"You touch him," Cole said, voice low and steady, "and I burn every table you ever put down."
The House considered.
Actually considered.
That scared him more than an immediate refusal would've.
Text rewrote itself.
VARIABLE PARTICIPATION: INDIRECTFAILURE STATE IMPACTS VARIABLESUCCESS STATE ALTERS VARIABLE
Cole stared.
"You're betting him," Cole said.
Not exactly.
Dusty looked back at Cole then, eyes bright and focused. No fear. Just waiting for instruction.
Cole felt something twist behind his ribs.
"Alright," he said. "Say it clean."
The House obliged.
WIN: CORRECTION APPLIEDROYAL INTERFERENCE REDUCEDLOSS: CORE STAT REMOVEDVARIABLE: DUSTY — STATUS UNDEFINED
Undefined.
That wasn't a word the House liked.
Cole rolled his shoulders once. Old habit. Like shrugging into a coat that never fit right.
"Deal," he said.
The deck cut itself.
Three cards slid across the stone to Cole.
Three to the other side.
No visible opponent.
But Cole felt the presence immediately—pressure, shape, intent. The King of Spades leaning in through whatever crack he'd forced open.
Dusty growled, deeper now.
Cole looked at his cards.
Bad.
Not awful.
The kind of hand that asked you to commit before it told you whether it was worth believing in.
Across from him, the opposing hand flipped.
Better.
Not perfect.
But confident.
Cole exhaled slowly.
"Figures," he murmured.
The House waited.
Cole looked at Dusty.
The dog's ears flicked, then angled toward the deck.
He felt it then—a tug. Subtle. Like Dusty wasn't reacting to the cards, but to the intention behind them.
Cole's eyes narrowed.
"You feel that," he whispered.
Dusty barked once.
Yes.
Cole didn't hesitate.
He discarded one card.
Then another.
Kept the third.
The deck dealt replacements.
The air warped.
The opposing presence shifted, surprised.
That was new.
Cole looked at his hand again.
Worse on paper.
Cleaner in truth.
The kind of hand that didn't win by odds.
It won by timing.
The House spoke.
FINAL RESOLUTION IMMINENT
The King pushed.
Cole felt it—probability buckling, edges bending, the world trying to slide the outcome a half-step sideways where it would hurt less for the ledger.
The House hesitated.
That was the blink.
Cole slammed his palm down on the stone.
"Now," he said.
Dusty lunged—not at the deck, not at the stone—
—but at the space between.
The world cracked.
Not sound.
Alignment.
The opposing hand stuttered, cards lagging half a beat behind reality.
Cole flipped his hand.
Three of a kind.
Grit.
The stone slab split down the center.
Text exploded into view.
WIN RECORDEDSTATUS: CONDITIONALCORRECTION: PARTIAL
The alley twisted.
Buildings leaned wrong. Shadows detached from their owners. For a heartbeat, Rustline existed in two versions at once—one whole, one broken.
Then it snapped back.
The deck vanished.
The stone sank.
The pressure dropped so fast Cole staggered.
Dusty yelped once and collapsed onto his side.
Cole was on him instantly.
"Dusty."
The dog's chest rose.
Fell.
Rose again.
Different.
Cole felt it before he saw it—the way Dusty's breathing synced with something that wasn't there before. Like the dog had learned a new rhythm and the world had to follow it.
Text bled faintly at the edge of Cole's sight.
VARIABLE STATUS UPDATEDANOMALY: STABLENOTE: FUTURE SENSITIVITY INCREASED
Cole didn't care.
He pressed his forehead to Dusty's neck, breathing hard.
"You with me," he said. "You stay with me."
Dusty's tail thumped once.
Weak.
But real.
The House offered one final line.
CORRECTIVE ACTION COMPLETEROYAL INTERFERENCE REDUCEDCOST: DEFERRED
Cole laughed, rough and broken.
"Of course it is."
The alley brightened as normal sound returned—voices, footsteps, the clatter of a town pretending nothing cosmic had just leaned over it.
Cole stood slowly, lifting Dusty into his arms.
The dog weighed the same.
Felt… different.
Like he was listening to something farther out than sound.
Cole didn't look back.
He walked out of the alley and into Rustline's wounded streets, carrying what the House hadn't managed to take.
Behind him, somewhere deep in the system, a ledger marked a win.
And somewhere farther still, a King of Spades felt the first real resistance and decided it didn't like the taste.