I’ve had a secret since I was a kid: at a gambling table, I don’t lose. It’s not a streak; it’s a law of nature. This past spring break, my roommates were itching for a thrill. They dragged me to a private, high-stakes club in the desert outskirts of Vegas, certain they could strike it rich. To give them the "joy" of winning, I spent the whole night playing the opposite of my instincts, effectively "feeding" them my own savings, dollar by dollar. But in that final round, I let my focus slip for just a second. In the blink of an eye, the house swept the board. They didn’t just lose the "winnings" I’d funneled to them; they burned through their own cash and ended up deep in the hole with a group of predatory loan sharks. I was about to say, "Don’t worry, I can cover it," but they turned on me before the words could leave my mouth. They lunged, tied me up tight, and prepared to hand me over to the house to settle their debt. Looking at their twisted, desperate faces, I couldn't help but let out a dry laugh. "Save your energy. This place wouldn't dare touch me." Bella, my roommate, sneered as if I’d lost my mind. She pointed a trembling finger at my nose. "If you hadn't spaced out, we wouldn't have lost! You’re the one going to the wolves, not us." "Once the house takes a few of your fingers as collateral, maybe we can actually go back to campus in one piece!" Watching their greed strip away their humanity was almost comical. They had no idea. This underground gold mine—the very tiles they were standing on—was something I won in a card game years ago. Whether I’d lose a finger remained to be seen. But I knew one thing for certain: by tomorrow, there’d be a few heads on the table serving as the next round’s stakes. ... 1 Bella yanked my hair back, forcing my face up to meet her crazed eyes. "Judy, quit acting like you're already dead!" Her eyes were bloodshot, and her spit hit my cheek. "We just lost five rounds in a row. You blew your cash, and then you blew the money we borrowed! If we don't hand your ten fingers over to the house today, none of us are getting out of here!" I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey on the hotel carpet, my scalp screaming in protest. But I didn’t struggle. I just looked at her—this girl I’d shared a dorm with for four years. "Bella, did the gambling rot your brain?" I asked, my voice laced with a cold, sharp edge. "Leaving aside the fact that your losses have nothing to do with me, we’re in a high-end establishment. You’re kidnapping someone in a luxury suite. Do you have any idea who runs this territory?" "I don't give a damn who runs it!" Macy, another roommate, stepped forward and drove her heel into my knee. "Stop trying to scare us with 'rules'!" "Exactly! We’ve already made the arrangements!" Bella let go of my hair and crossed her arms, a smug, triumphant grin spreading across her face. "I might as well tell you—the man in charge of this whole operation is my uncle." I arched an eyebrow. "The man in charge?" "That’s right!" Bella looked down at me as if I were a bug. "Everything in this building moves when my uncle says so. Once we hand you over, he’ll take what’s owed in blood, and then he’ll sell whatever’s left of you to some offshore 'entertainment' ship. Our debt gets wiped, and we get a nice little finders' fee to disappear." I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. Bella’s face contorted. "What’s so funny? You finally snap?" "I’m laughing at how pathetic you are." I shifted my bound wrists, my tone dripping with mockery. "If your uncle was really the King of the Strip, if he really held the keys to this kingdom, would he really need three college girls to pull off a messy kidnapping in a hotel room? He would have had his enforcers snatch me off the floor the moment I stood up." The room went deathly silent for two seconds. Bella’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. Hitting a nerve felt good. Enraged, she swung her arm back and delivered a heavy slap across my face. "Shut up! You’re just a bitch who doesn't know when she’s beaten!" The metallic taste of blood blossomed in my mouth. I ran my tongue over my split lip, my eyes going stone cold. "I’m the one out of my depth?" I stared her down. "Fine. What’s his name? This 'uncle' of yours." Bella gritted her teeth. "Write it down for your obituary! His name is Mr. Ray—Ray 'The Hammer' Vance!" Ray Vance? I almost lost it again. Just last month, I was sitting in the penthouse office reviewing the monthly HR reports. There was a new hire, a guy who wasn't even qualified to work the floor, so they stuck him at the service entrance to check IDs. His name was Ray Vance. Mr. Ray? The Hammer? The world is truly teeming with idiots. BANG! The hotel door was kicked open. A middle-aged man in a cheap, ill-fitting suit with a protruding gut sauntered in, followed by four scrawny guys in "Security" shirts. "Uncle Ray! You’re here!" Bella’s face instantly shifted into a fawning mask of adoration as she rushed to meet him. "Here she is! She’s got the looks—she’ll definitely fetch a high price!" When Ray’s eyes landed on my face, he visibly swallowed. "Damn... she’s a premium find." He crouched in front of me, rubbing his hands together, reaching out to touch my face. I jerked my head back and spat right at him. "Keep your filthy hands off me." Ray froze. He blinked, then backhanded me across the head. "The bitch has claws!" He stood up and turned to his 'security' detail. "Boys, we just hit the jackpot. The Ghost has been in a foul mood lately, looking for some new... amusement. This girl is pure, she’s got fire—exactly his type." He stepped on my calf, grinding his shoe into the bone. "Tie her tighter! If we deliver her to The Ghost’s bed tonight, we’re set for life!" 2 THUD. Ray kicked me in the stomach. I curled into a ball on the floor, coughing up a bit of red-tinged saliva. "Bella... maybe we shouldn't kill her..." Macy whispered, shrinking back, covering her eyes. Tiff, the third roommate, was white as a sheet, trembling behind Bella. "Shut up, you cowards!" Bella hissed. I looked up at Bella, offering one final test. "Bella, it’s not too late. Untie me, and I’ll act like this never happened. I’ll pay off your debt. We’ve been friends for four years. Don’t throw your life away over a moment of desperation." Bella froze for a second. Then, she let out a peal of hysterical laughter. "You’ll pay? With what? You lost your last dime just trying to buy a bottle of water!" She lunged forward, grabbing my chin in a bruising grip. "Judy, it’s because you have money that we’re doing this!" Her face was distorted by years of repressed envy. "Four years, and you were 'so good' to us. But why does one of your handbags cost more than my entire tuition? Why do you get to wear designer clothes and never work a shift while we’re out handing out flyers for pennies just to eat? I’m sick of it!" She shoved my head back against the carpet. "When you’re sold and gone, you’ll just be a 'missing person.' Your rich parents will come to campus, desperate. And we—your best friends—will be there to cry on their shoulders. They’ll give us 'thank you' money for our help, won't they? Your useless life is finally going to pave the way for ours!" The other two girls seemed ignited by Bella’s venom. The hesitation vanished, replaced by the same ugly greed. They began hurling insults: "Always acting so damn superior! Every time you paid for dinner, you thought you were being nice? It was disgusting!" "I’m so done with the 'Little Miss Princess' act. Once you’re in a brothel, your family's money will be enough to put a down payment on a condo for me downtown!" I lay there, listening to the depths of their malice, and I actually smiled. "Fine," I whispered. "You chose this." You can't save people who are already dead inside. "Enough talk with a corpse!" Ray interrupted, impatient. He grabbed my collar like he was lifting a stray kitten and hauled me up. "If The Ghost wasn't busy on the floor tonight, do you think we'd be wasting time here?" When Ray mentioned 'The Ghost,' his eyes filled with a terrifying, cult-like devotion. "The Ghost is the Reaper of this town! One word from him, and the whole Strip trembles! They say he carved his way to the top with nothing but a blade and a cold heart. Being sent to his bed is the greatest honor you'll ever have—if you survive the night." I smiled inwardly. A blade? Yeah, I remember. He was bleeding out in an alley, his insides nearly on the outside, when I found him. I gave him his life back. I groomed him, placed him in the spotlight, and made him the "Reaper" so he could take the bullets meant for me. The whole underworld knew: the legendary Ghost was just a loyal, rabid dog I kept on a very short leash. I let out a cold snort. "Since he’s so terrifying, why don't you take me to him right now? I want to see if he dares to touch a single hair on my head." Ray’s face darkened. He delivered another stinging slap. "You don't even get to speak his name, bitch! Let’s see how much you talk when you’re kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy!" He signaled his men. "Grab her! Straight to the penthouse office!" Two guards grabbed my arms, wrenching them behind my back, and dragged me toward the door. Bella followed close behind, her eyes wide with excitement. "Uncle! Make sure he cuts off a few fingers in front of us!" 3 I was thrown onto the floor of the penthouse office. Two guards held me down against the massive mahogany desk. "Uncle, look!" Bella cried out, pointing to a crystal picture frame on the corner of the desk. Ray strode over and picked it up. Inside was a photo of a young girl in a white sundress. "I knew it!" Ray’s eyes lit up. "I told you he liked them pure. Look—this girl in the photo looks just like this bitch!" I glanced at the frame. It was a photo of me when I was six, taken at a theme park. Of course it looked like me. That idiot actually kept it on his desk. "Not just the photo! Look at the wall!" Macy pointed to a bulletproof glass case behind the desk. Inside were two brass casings stained with dried blood. Ray looked at them with religious awe. "See that? Those are the bullets he took for the business. He’d die for the rules, for this house!" He grabbed my hair again, forcing me to look at the display. "A brat like you, causing trouble here? You’re going to be skinned alive!" My scalp throbbed. But looking at those bullets, I couldn't help but smirk. "He’d die for the house?" I repeated. Three years ago, a rival syndicate sent a hit squad after me. Kael—the man they called The Ghost—didn't even have time to draw his gun. He threw himself in front of me and took those two rounds to the chest. "You’re still smiling?!" Ray was losing his mind. My lack of fear was an insult to his reality. I stared at him, my voice steady. "I’m just curious. If he’s such a martyr, where is he? Why hasn't he shown his face?" "You little whore! You think you're worthy of his time?" Ray was livid. He pulled a tactical knife from his belt and slapped the cold flat of the blade against my cheek. Bella stepped up, grinding her stiletto into my calf. "Uncle! Stop talking and do it! She was so tough downstairs—cut her thumb off first!" The other roommates crowded around, their faces twisted with anticipation. "Yeah! Do it! Let’s see how she acts then!" Ray hissed, moving the blade to my right thumb. "Consider this a little 'welcome gift' for him tonight. Hold her down!" The guards put their full weight on my shoulders. Just as the knife began its downward arc— A low, guttural voice echoed from the doorway. "What exactly are you doing in my office?" 4 Kael stood there, draped in a charcoal-black suit that made him look like a shadow given form. The room froze. The girls, who a second ago were screaming for blood, scrambled back into the corner, their mouths clamped shut. Ray’s bravado evaporated instantly. He transformed into a whimpering poodle, bowing and scraping as he hurried toward Kael. "Sir! I didn't expect you back so soon!" Kael didn't look at him. His eyes were fixed on the desk, though the guards were still blocking his view of me. The lighting was dim, my face obscured by my own hair. "I asked a question," Kael said, his voice like grinding stones. "What are you doing in here?" Ray gestured wildly toward me, desperate for credit. "Sir, we caught a cheat! A little brat who thinks she can spit on the rules of the house. She’s been insulting your name, acting like she owns the place!" Bella, afraid her uncle would take all the glory, chimed in. "Yes! She’s a fraud, a liar! We were just... cleaning house for you, Sir! Setting an example!" Kael’s brow furrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his features. Ray misread the cue. To prove his loyalty, he didn't even wait for Kael to come closer. He spun back to the desk, raising the knife high above his head. "Don't you worry, Sir! I won't let this trash offend your eyes a second longer. I'll take her hand right now!" The blade caught the light—a cold, silver flash. It came down with everything Ray had. "Die!" Bella shrieked, her eyes wide with malicious joy. CRACK. The sound of bone and steel meeting flesh echoed through the room. A spray of warm, copper-scented liquid hit the mahogany desk. A severed piece of a finger flew off, rolling across the carpet. "AHHHH!" Bella’s triumphant grin turned into a horrific gasp. Ray stood there, his arm trembling, the knife frozen in mid-air. The fawning look on his face was replaced by a terror so deep he looked like he’d seen the devil. Because the blade hadn't hit my hand. My thumb was untouched. Kael had caught the blade with his bare hand. The force of the strike had been so great that the knife had sliced clean through his own pinky finger. Kael didn't even look at his mutilated hand. He slowly lifted his head. Those eyes, usually as dead as a winter pond, were now a roaring, bloodshot red. He stared at the shaking Ray Vance and spoke with a terrifying softness: "I took bullets for her... and you thought you could touch her?"
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