The room smelled of sweat, iron, and the faint sting of blood. Dane’s chest rose and fell like a piston, every breath a victory against the weight of exhaustion dragging at his muscles. His knuckles were raw. His heartbeat still rattled like a drum in his ears. The huge man lay sprawled on the floor, motionless except for the faint twitch of his fingers. His once-threatening frame now looked small, almost human, flattened against the polished concrete.Dane’s vision flickered between clarity and haze. He had won. Against all odds — against the bulk, the speed, and the rage of his opponent — he had stood his ground and emerged the last one standing. For a moment, he didn’t trust the stillness. He stayed crouched low, watching the man’s chest, waiting for it to rise in another surge of violence. Nothing. Just the ragged rasp of air wheezing through a broken nose.He straightened slowly, his spine protesting with every inch, and drew a long breath. “I… I did it,” he murmured under his br

Everyone was quiet.The silence inside that grand hall became unbearable, pressing against Dane’s ears until it almost felt like a roar. Dozens of eyes remained locked on him, but no one moved. No one dared to breathe too loudly. The air itself seemed to thicken, heavy with smoke, tension, and the metallic edge of anticipation.Then—A sharp, thunderous crack echoed through the hall. Someone had slammed a staff against the marble floor. The sound was final, absolute, as though it carried authority carved into the bones of the men who filled the room.Instantly, the atmosphere shifted.Every man gave way, breaking from their casual stances. They shuffled backward, forming two long lines along the sides of the hall. Guns lowered but did not disappear, each weapon still within easy reach. Their faces hardened, posture straightened. It wasn’t fear that moved them, but discipline. Trained loyalty.Dane’s gaze snapped toward the source of the sound.A figure stepped forward from the far sha

The Coin Flipper watched the coin spin between his fingers as if it were a living thing. He let it rise, the silver disc catching the chandelier light and throwing a quick, bright star across the ceiling. The room held its breath with him.“So now,” he said, his voice low and amused, “I decide what to do with that little eye of yours.” He nodded toward the tiny camera hidden in Jane’s suit. “It will be my guilt if I have to remove it. But first… let the coin decide.”The flip sent the coin arcing into the air. For a beat it hung, a small bright eternity, then fell back into the palm of his hand with a faint clink. He let it roll across his knuckle and reveal its face. “Huh,” he drawled. “You’re lucky tonight.”On Jane’s iPad, Butcher’s face tightened into a line. He didn’t look surprised; he looked measured, like a man who had expected several outcomes and accepted each. The Coin Flipper smiled, an ugly little curl of amusement. “Butcher,” he called out, loud enough for the camera to

They had been eating — plates clattered, cheap laughter threaded through the air, and the thick tang of roasted meat mixed with smoke. Most of the men sat back in their chairs, leaning into the lazy rhythm of a lunch break, knives and forks a beat away from their mouths. The room had the loose, dangerous comfort of a place that expected trouble but preferred sandwiches first.One of the men idly rolled a die across the table and caught it with a practiced flick of the wrist. It was a small, meaningless game between men with too much time and too little to care for rules. The die was not the Coin Flipper’s tool; the Coin Flipper used only his coin — always the coin — and he had been careful to make that line clear. The die clattered and vanished into a palm; someone grunted as the number landed. Conversation buzzed again, but the thread of attention never truly left the man at the center.The Coin Flipper stood like a still point in a tidal room. The coin glinted between his fingers as

Dane’s heart raced. The room felt smaller now, as if the walls were inching closer with every breath. He could see the men’s fingers tightening around their guns. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck, but he forced himself to sit still, his expression neutral. Is this why they’re threatening me? he wondered. I’m not safe here. Not one bit.He reached slowly into his pocket. “The boss said he wanted to chat with…” he began, his voice steady despite the thudding in his chest. “I’ll chat with the CoinFlipper. That’s why he sent me here.”His fingers brushed cold glass. When he pulled the phone out, he blinked—its screen was spider-webbed with cracks, but still functional.“Hey,” CoinFlipper snapped, his coin clinking softly in his palm. “What are you doing bringing out your phone?”“My boss wanted to speak with you,” Dane said. “I’ll speak with you. Do you have any objections?”CoinFlipper tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Is it Butcher?” His lips curled in a thin smile. “If it’s him,