Page 4 of Deadly Hands

Of course. Another of his brother’s strays, though this one at least had actual talent.

The boy - Reuben - was currently chipping away at another player’s stack with the precision of a surgeon, each bet calculated to maximize pressure while appearing almost casual.

A minor commotion near the entrance drew Nikon’s attention. Speaking of brothers; Andrey Matvei’s distinct profile appeared in the doorway, his presence sending ripples through the room like a stone dropped in still water.

Tonight was becomingveryinteresting.

Nikon took another sip of whiskey, letting the warmth settle in his chest as he watched his younger brother’s expression darken upon spotting Corey. There was a story there, one he intended to unravel.

“Sir?” His lieutenant shifted. “Should we intervene?”

“Not yet.” Nikon let the ice in his glass clinked softly. “Let’s see how our new friend handles pressure.”

Andrey made his way to the rail, his attention now fixed on the table with the intensity of a predator.

The next hand dealt, chips scattered across the felt, all while Reuben’s fingers maintained their steady rhythm against his remaining stack.

Thirty minutes and a couple of significant pots later, Nikon had seen enough. The boy wasn’t just good—he was exceptional. The kind of talent that could be either valuable or dangerous, depending on how it was handled. And Nikon had always excelled at handling valuable things.

His phone vibrated. Another message from Grinch. Nikon smirked at using his eldest brother’s hated nickname, even in his thoughts. No doubt Grigorii was still fuming about their argument over expanding the family business.

The message could wait. Right now, he needed to focus on the game below - particularly with how Andrey’s jaw clenched tighter with each passing hand.

Near the table, Corey paced like a caged animal, his designer shoes wearing a path in the expensive carpet. His usual swagger had given way to something more desperate. Another tell, though not one the players below would notice.

Nikon set his empty glass on a passing tray. Time to act before whatever scheme was in play could unfold. He gestured to his security team, positioning them around the room’s exits.

The last hand was inevitable. Reuben’s pocket jacks finding their third on the flop, fourth on the turn against Viktor’s pocket aces. Viktor hadn’t earned his nickname through careless play - fifteen years of crushing the highest stakes games across Europe and Asia had taught him every angle, every psychological edge. His technical precision and mathematical approach to the game had broken countless rising stars.

Which made the setup even more impressive. The defeat of the strongest starting hand in poker, wielded by one of the most experienced players in the room, falling to careful positioningand precise bet sizing from this newcomer—this was skill, not luck, and certainly not cheating.

Viktor’s face remained impassive as the young player stacked his chips.

“Cash me out.” Reuben’s voice carried no triumph, just quiet certainty.

Nikon allowed himself a small smile as he descended the last steps to the gaming floor. Let Andrey think this was about money. Let Corey believe whatever delusion had led him to bring Reuben here tonight. This was about something far more valuable—talent that could be shaped, molded, used.

“I’m afraid,” Nikon’s voice cut through the room’s tension like a blade, “that won’t be possible.”

The boy’s head turned, those steady hands at last showing their first tremor of the night. Green eyes met steel blue, and Nikon saw something he recognized: calculation masked by fear, intelligence tempered by survival instinct.

Nikon felt an irrational urge to protect him. To shield that perfect face from whatever storm was coming.

Foolish, he chided himself.And dangerous.

Still, as chaos erupted and security moved in, Nikon found himself drawn forward not just by duty or opportunity, but by those green eyes that now met his with such calculated fear. Even terrified, Reuben was stunning—perhaps even more so for the way he tried to hide it.

Yes, this one would be interesting indeed.

Through the commotion, Nikon watched his men close in with practiced efficiency. Two seized Reuben’s arms while Andrey personally grabbed Corey by the throat, his rage barely contained. The sharp clink of scattered chips against marble flooring punctuated the scene like broken glass.

But those hands—Reuben’s gifted, treacherous hands—had already told Nikon everything he needed to know. This wasn’t just about debt or discipline.

This was about potential.

Chapter 3

Reuben flinched as Corey doubled over, gasping for air after Andrey’s fist connected with his stomach. The two men holding Reuben’s arms tightened their grip, as if worried he might try something stupid. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t even process how quickly everything had gone wrong.

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