Youri and Leo stood for a long moment across the street from the Pyata, letting the sight of it sink in. The casino rose above the surrounding buildings like a monument to indulgence, its neon veins pulsing softly against the night sky. Cars flowed endlessly toward its entrance, headlights reflecting off polished stone and glass. Laughter and music drifted faintly through the open doors, carried on warm desert air.
Leo let out a low whistle. "Damn. This place makes Lux look like a back-alley bar."
Youri nodded slowly, eyes tracing the glowing dome at the top, the way the colors blended and shifted as if the building itself were breathing. "It's… loud," he said, not referring to sound.
They crossed the street and stepped inside.
The moment the doors slid open, sound swallowed them whole. The hum of slot machines, the clatter of chips, the low murmur of conversation, and the distant swell of music all blended into a single, living rhythm. The air smelled faintly of perfume, alcohol, and ozone from overworked electronics. Warm golden light washed over everything, reflecting off polished marble floors and gilded railings.
For a second, Youri simply stood there, taking it all in.
This wasn't just a casino. It was a performance.
"Alright, don't get lost," Leo said, nudging him lightly. "We're not here to gamble."
They moved through the crowd, past rows of slot machines flashing in jewel tones, past tables where dealers moved with practiced precision, their hands a blur as cards and chips danced across felt surfaces. Players leaned in close, some tense, some relaxed, some already lost in the high or the despair of chance.
At the far end of the main floor, near a grand staircase framed by two towering columns, Kano waited.
He looked exactly as he had at Lux—dark hair tied back, tattoos crawling over his arms and neck like living things—but here, under the Pyata's lights, he fit the place perfectly. He wore a tailored black jacket over his bare chest, the ink on his skin peeking out unapologetically. A glass of amber liquid rested in his hand.
"There you are," Kano said, smiling as they approached. "Right on time. That's a good start."
Leo shook his hand firmly. "Nice place you've got."
Kano chuckled. "You haven't seen anything yet."
He gestured for them to follow and began walking, moving through the casino floor with an ease that made it clear everyone knew who he was. Staff nodded respectfully as they passed. Security guards straightened subtly, eyes alert but relaxed.
"As you know," Kano began, voice calm but authoritative, "Pyata isn't just a casino. It's a promise. People come here believing they'll leave richer, happier, luckier than when they walked in."
He stopped briefly beside a blackjack table where a man in an expensive suit slammed his cards down in frustration. Kano leaned in, murmured something to the dealer, and nodded once. The dealer's posture softened; a complimentary drink was already on its way to the angry customer.
"You see that?" Kano said quietly as they walked on. "Half this job is force. The other half is control. People don't just need rules—they need to feel seen. Managed."
Youri listened carefully, eyes scanning the room, instinctively noting exits, blind spots, and the subtle flow of movement through the space. Even amid the glamour, he could sense tension simmering beneath the surface.
They ascended the grand staircase, the noise of the main floor fading slightly as they reached the balcony level. From above, the casino looked even more impressive—a living tapestry of light and motion. Gold-trimmed railings curved elegantly, framing the view below.
"This level is for observation," Kano continued. "High rollers, private games, negotiations. Trouble doesn't always announce itself with fists. Sometimes it comes dressed in silk."
Leo smirked. "Sounds like fun."
Kano glanced at him. "It can be. If you're smart."
They moved down a corridor lined with velvet walls and subtle lighting. Security cameras were embedded seamlessly into the décor, barely noticeable unless you knew where to look. Kano tapped one with a finger as they passed.
"Eyes everywhere," he said. "But cameras don't stop problems. People do."
He stopped at a door guarded by two men twice Leo's size. They nodded and stepped aside. Inside was a quieter room—an office overlooking the casino floor through one-way glass. A large desk sat at the center, flanked by leather chairs. Monitors lined one wall, each showing a different section of the casino.
"This is where you'll report," Kano said, setting his drink down. "For the next two weeks, you're on probation. You'll rotate between floor security and VIP oversight. I want to see how you handle people—and pressure."
Leo cracked his knuckles. "And if someone gets rough?"
Kano's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "You de-escalate if possible. Remove if necessary. And if it gets ugly…" He shrugged lightly. "You finish it quietly. No scenes. No headlines."
Youri met Kano's gaze. "And if it's not quiet?"
Kano studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Then you make sure it ends fast."
They left the office and headed back down toward the main floor, this time moving behind the scenes. Narrow hallways replaced open glamour. Staff-only areas buzzed with controlled urgency—dealers rotating shifts, waitresses adjusting uniforms, technicians checking equipment.
As they walked, Kano continued explaining the unspoken rules of the Pyata: which high rollers demanded special attention, which local gangs liked to test boundaries, which nights were most likely to explode into chaos.
"Vegas runs on excess," he said. "And excess attracts desperation. That's where you come in."
They emerged near the VIP section, where plush seating and private tables were tucked behind velvet ropes. A group of well-dressed patrons laughed loudly, champagne flowing freely. Kano nodded toward them.
"Your first assignment starts here," he said. "Nothing serious tonight. Just presence. Let people know you're watching."
Leo straightened, suddenly all business. "Got it."
Youri rolled his shoulders, settling into the role. As they took their positions, he felt it—that familiar tightening in his chest. This place wasn't Lux. The stakes were higher. The masks more convincing.
Kano lingered for a moment, then turned to leave. Before he did, he paused and looked back at Youri.
"One more thing," he said. "I don't care where you learned to stand like that. Or why you look like you're waiting for the world to swing first. But if you're going to work here—don't hesitate."
Youri nodded once. "I won't."
Kano smiled faintly and disappeared into the crowd.
As the night deepened, the Pyata grew louder, brighter, more alive. Music swelled. Drinks flowed faster. Tempers flared and cooled in cycles. Leo handled a drunken argument near a roulette table with surprising finesse, guiding the men apart before fists flew.
Youri intercepted a nervous pickpocket slipping through the crowd, steering him gently but firmly toward an exit and a stern warning from security. The kid bolted the moment he was released, disappearing into the night.
Hours passed.
As the lights dimmed slightly to signal closing hours, Leo leaned over and muttered, "So… two weeks, huh?"
Youri watched the last of the patrons file out, the Pyata slowly exhaling after a long night. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Let's see if it survives us."