A week had passed since Youri and Leo started working at the Pyata. Some days were quiet, almost boring, with nothing but routine patrols and polite smiles, and others were chaos: drunks, loud arguments, trouble that kept them moving until their feet ached. But tonight was different, and they knew it the moment they arrived. It was Friday night. The casino was packed to bursting, music pulsing through hidden speakers, laughter echoing across the floor, the slot machines chiming in a hypnotic rhythm under light that turned the whole hall into a glowing spectacle.
Kano was waiting for them near the entrance, impeccably dressed as always. As soon as he saw them he came forward with a broad smile and laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "You two are doing a great job," he said warmly. "Really. I'm impressed. And because of that, I've decided to give you a little bonus." He reached into his jacket and pressed a stack of casino chips into each of their hands. The weight of them alone made Leo's eyebrows climb.
Youri stared at his. "Kano, we can't—"
"Don't argue," Kano cut in with a chuckle. "Go. Have some fun. You've earned it." His look left no room for refusal, so in the end they nodded. He patted them on the back and vanished into the crowd.
"That's got to be over twenty thousand zells," Leo muttered.
Youri shifted uncomfortably. "I don't even know what to do with it."
Leo's eyes landed on a row of tables glowing under a crystal chandelier. "How about some blackjack?"
"I have no idea how to play."
Leo grinned. "Don't worry. I've got you."
There were three other players already at the table they chose. Directly across from Youri sat an older man in his mid-sixties, with a silver beard framing his sharp features and a fedora pulled low over his brow, calmly smoking a cigar in a shiny gray suit that looked expensive without trying too hard. On Leo's left sat a man in his forties with messily spiked blond hair and sunglasses worn indoors without a hint of irony, his white shirt open just far enough to show the dark, intricate tattoos covering his chest, neck and arms. Beside him sat the last of them, younger, in his late thirties, bald and in a plain white T-shirt — though anything plain about him ended there, under the thick gold chains around his neck and the watches, bracelets and rings that caught the light whenever he moved. All three of them looked up as Youri and Leo sat down, with brief, sharp, measuring glances, then turned back to the table.
The dealer dealt two cards to each player. The others glanced at their hands with practiced ease, while Youri, not knowing what he was even looking for, simply stared at his and waited. One by one the players made their calls — hit, stand — until it came round to him. He looked at Leo, who gave him a small nod.
"Stand," Youri said.
The hands were turned over, and when the dealer reached Youri's, the table went quiet for a moment. He had won. He blinked, confused; he hadn't even known what he was doing. Leo laughed and clapped him on the back. "Good job. I guess beginner's luck really does exist."
The chips clicked softly across the felt into his stack, and without realizing it, Youri had just taken his first step into a much deeper game.
The old man across the table let out a low chuckle, a thin ribbon of smoke curling from the corner of his mouth. "Beginner's luck," he said, in a smooth, amused voice. "But luck has a way of recognizing potential."
Youri nodded politely, unsure how to answer. Leo leaned closer and lowered his voice. "You hit twenty-one on your very first hand without knowing it. That's… not common."
"Oh," Youri said.
The cards went round again. This time Leo guided him quietly, explaining when to hit and when to stand, and Youri listened while his eyes moved between the cards, the dealer's hands, and the small reactions of the men around him. He noticed things quickly. The old man barely looked at his cards before deciding. The blond man watched the other players more than the table. And the bald one exaggerated every reaction, but his eyes stayed cold and calculating. Youri played cautiously and won again. A murmur went through the little cluster of onlookers nearby.
"Well, I'll be damned," Leo muttered. "You're either blessed or cursed."
The old man leaned forward a little and studied Youri more carefully. "Name's Sincron," he said. "Sincron Marques."
The blond man clicked his tongue. "Always so formal. Aleho Pulsar."
The bald man grinned, flashing gold teeth. "Carter Black."
Leo froze for half a second. Youri didn't react at all; to him, they were only names. But Leo knew them, as every security man in Vegas knew them. Sincron Marques, the money-laundering kingpin with roots in three galaxies. Aleho Pulsar, the arms dealer turned casino magnate. Carter Black, the enforcer turned boss, who was said to make people disappear without a trace. The three biggest mafia figures in Vegas, sitting at a random blackjack table.
Leo swallowed and kept his face neutral. "Leo," he said carefully. "And this is Youri."
Sincron smiled thinly. "We know."
That single word carried a great deal of weight.
"Relax," Aleho said, leaning back. "If we wanted trouble, this wouldn't be the table."
Carter laughed again. "Besides, tradition's tradition."
Youri tilted his head. "Tradition?"
Sincron tapped his ash into a crystal tray. "We don't play together in private rooms. Too much history. Too much mistrust. The open floor keeps things honest. Witnesses everywhere."
"Harder to cheat when everyone's watching," Aleho agreed.
The cards came round again, and Sincron glanced at Youri's hand. "Hit." Youri hesitated, and Leo began 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, and Aleho let out a low whistle. "Alright, now that's no accident."
Carter leaned in with narrowed eyes. "You see patterns fast, kid."
And Youri felt it then — a subtle shift in the way they were looking at him. It wasn't curiosity anymore. It was interest. As the game went on, they taught him, not like teachers but like predators sharpening a blade: odds and probabilities, how to read a dealer, how to manage a stack. They spoke lazily, almost carelessly, but every word carried decades of power and blood behind it. Youri listened, learned and remembered every word. He lost some hands and won others, but more importantly he understood why. The chips in front of him grew steadily while Leo watched, half amazed and 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 and studied Youri through a haze of smoke. "You work here. Security, yes?"
"Yes," Youri said honestly.
"Good. That means you understand rules. Boundaries."
Youri met his eyes. "I understand when they matter."
Sincron's smile widened a fraction.
The hours passed unnoticed. Around them, the Pyata went on pulsing with life, the dealers rotated, and new players came and went, but the table stayed. 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, and then at his hands. They were perfectly 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 and laid a hand briefly on Youri's shoulder — not heavily, 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." And the three of them left together and vanished into the crowd as though they had never been there at all.
Leo let out a shaky breath. "Do 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 got up from the table, Kano appeared beside them with his hands clasped behind his back. "I see you enjoyed the bonus."
"I did," Youri said.
Kano glanced at the empty chairs. "They take an interest easily. And they don't do it often."
Leo frowned. "Is that… good?"
Kano smiled faintly. "Depends on what you do with it."