Page 13 of Deadly Hands

“A word.”

Reuben’s chair scraped back before his brain fully processed the command. He followed the older man through the poker room, past the private gaming areas, and up to the office. Nikon didn’t look back - he didn’t need to. They both knew Reuben would follow.

The door shut softly behind them. Reuben looked around Nikon’s office, a room he’d seen before but still foundmysterious. While the poker rooms below sparkled with crystal and gold, Nikon kept his private office space plain.

A massive oak desk dominated the room, its surface gleaming like dark water under the recessed lighting. Behind it sat Nikon’s only real indulgence: a high-backed leather chair that probably cost more than Reuben’s entire college education. The walls, painted a shade of grey that seemed to absorb light, held no artwork, no certificates, no photos - nothing personal at all. Just clean lines and empty space, as if Nikon preferred to keep his power understated, like a loaded gun in a velvet box.

The leather chair exhaled softly as Nikon settled behind his desk, eyes fixed on Reuben. “You’re distracted this evening.”

Reuben’s hands wanted to fidget. He locked them at his sides instead. “I’ve been watching.”

“Have you?” Nikon’s head tilted, predator-sharp. “Tell me what you see.”

The phone felt heavy in Reuben’s pocket. “May I?” He reached for it, waiting for Nikon’s nod before pulling up his notes.

“It’s Benni. He’s been here four times this month. When Luka deals, he wins over two-thirds of his river bets. He checks his phone like clockwork - every forty-two minutes, right when our security shifts change. And it’s always the same pattern: he picks certain drinks, uses certain coasters, and only plays at certain tables.”

With each detail, Nikon’s expression shifted - subtle as a poker tell, dangerous as a trap card. He rose, circling the desk with fluid grace. “And you waited to tell me because?”

Heat crawled up Reuben’s neck. Nikon stood too close, authority and power - and something darker - filling the space between them. “I needed proof. Luka’s been with you for a while. I wanted to be certain before...”

“Before accusing a trusted employee?” Nikon’s finger traced the edge of Reuben’s collar. “Loyal and thorough... You continue to surprise me,my little card shark.”

The now familiar endearment hit like smooth whiskey - warm, dangerous, addictive. “There’s more.”

“Show me.”

Reuben’s fingers pulled up more evidence. “Benni loses hands now and then to look normal. But when you add up his wins, the numbers don’t make sense.”

“And you know this because?”

“Finance degree had to be good for something, right?”

Nikon’s laugh rumbled, low and genuine. His hand settled on Reuben’s shoulder, thumb brushing the bare skin above his shirt collar. “Watch the security feed tonight. I want you to see what happens to people who try to cheat in my rooms.”

“Yes...” Reuben’s voice caught slightly, the formal address sticking in his throat before he added, “sir.”

“Good,” Nikon’s fingers tightened briefly.

Later that night, Reuben leaned back in his chair, letting the security room’s darkness wrap around him like a heavy coat.

The security screens lit up the wall, each one showing a distinct part of Nikon’s carefully managed empire. But tonight, Reuben’s eyes stayed fixed on just one screen.

There, in stark black and white, Nikon and Luka’s confrontation unfolded like a film that no-one in their right mind would want to star in.

Nikon stalked around the interrogation room like a wolf. His suit jacket was wrinkled, his sleeves now pushed up to show muscled forearms - a reminder that he was both businessman and fighter.

Nikon circled Luka, who sat tied to a chair, his once crisp dealer’s uniform creased and sweat-stained. The refined atmosphere of the poker room upstairs felt worlds away fromthis concrete confession box, where Nikon conducted his darker business.

In that room, there were no bluffs, no clever bets - only the brutal currency of truth and consequence.

“How long, Luka?” Nikon’s voice echoed in the sterile room, each word a measured beat of restrained fury. He tapped the leather sap against his thigh - a steady rhythm that made Reuben’s stomach clench. Not from fear, exactly. More from guessing what would come next.

“Nikon, please, I have a family,” Luka’s voice broke. His eyes darted between the door and Nikon’s stony face.

Nikon held perfectly still, shoulders set like marble beneath his tailored suit. When he turned, his expression had smoothed into something worse than anger - a calculated emptiness. “You think I haven’t heardthatbefore?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You thought I wouldn’t find out, Luka?”

The first strike came without warning.

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