Elodie reached the bottom of the stairs. The air here was cooler, smelling of expensive cologne and ozone.

A wall of security guards blocked the entrance to the inner circle.

She walked up to the head of security. He was holding a clipboard.

She didn't have a pass. She didn't have an invite.

She reached into her clutch. She pulled out her roll of emergency cash. She peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and folded it into her palm.

She walked up to the guard.

I am with Mr. Chaney, she said. I am the... entertainment.

The guard looked her up and down. He looked at the sequins. He looked at the desperation in her eyes that she couldn't quite hide.

He didn't order any, the guard grunted.

He didn't know I was coming. Surprise, she said. She tried to smile. She pressed the folded bill into his hand.

The guard looked at the Benjamin. He laughed. It was a cruel sound.

Honey, the cover charge is five grand. Go buy yourself a drink.

Elodie's face burned. Humiliation washed over her. She was Elodie Jimenez. A hundred dollars was tip money. But here, without her name, she was nobody.

She turned to leave, defeated.

Wait.

A voice came from behind the guard.

A massive man with a scar running through his eyebrow stepped forward. Rocco. Cassius's right hand.

Rocco looked at Elodie. He squinted.

Let her in, Rocco said. Boss is bored.

The guard stepped aside immediately.

Elodie walked past him, chin high. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She entered the inner sanctum.

The noise of the club faded here, dampened by acoustic panels.

Cassius was leaning back in his chair. He was swirling his glass of sparkling water.

He was watching her approach. His gaze was heavy. It felt like he was touching her.

He didn't stand up. He didn't offer her a seat.

Elodie stopped at his table.

She waited for him to speak. To ask who she was.

He said nothing. He just stared, forcing her to make the first move.

You have something of mine, Elodie said. Her voice trembled slightly.

It was a terrible opening line.

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

I doubt that.

Information, she corrected. About the Jimenez family.

His eyes narrowed instantly. The temperature at the table seemed to drop ten degrees.

You are Hazen's kid, he stated. It wasn't a question.

Elodie, she said.

He looked her over. From the sequins to the combat boots she had borrowed from Sofia.

Go home, princess, he said. His voice was low, rough. It is past your bedtime.

Elodie didn't leave.

She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

I am not leaving until we talk, she said.

Cassius looked at Rocco. Rocco shrugged, looking amused.

I do not do business with children, Cassius said.

I am twenty-three, Elodie snapped. And I have money.

I do not need money, Cassius said. He took a sip of his water. I need peace and quiet. And you are loud. Your dress is loud.

I know you worked for my father, she lowered her voice. I saw you.

Cassius leaned forward. He invaded her personal space. He smelled of sandalwood and cold air. It was intoxicating.

You saw a contractor, he said softly. You didn't see anything.

Elodie held his gaze. She refused to blink.

I am looking for a boy, she said. Joshuah.

Cassius flinched.

It was tiny. A tightening of the muscle in his jaw. A flicker in his dark eyes. If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she would have missed it.

But she saw it.

You know him, she whispered.

Cassius leaned back, his face a mask of indifference again.

Why do you want him? he asked.

Family reunion, she said. Sarcasm was her only shield.

He is a ghost, Cassius said. Ghosts are expensive to find.

Name your price, Elodie challenged.

Cassius studied her. He looked at her hands, clenching the tablecloth. He saw the fear. He saw the resolve.

He decided to play.

I do not want your daddy's money, he said.

Then what?

I want a favor, he said. To be named later.

Elodie hesitated. A blank check to a mobster? It was insanity.

Fine, she said.

Not so fast, Cassius smirked. It was a dangerous, beautiful expression.

I am a gambling man. Let us leave it to chance.

Cassius reached into his pocket and produced a coin.

It was silver, heavy. It looked old.

"Heads, I help you find the boy. Tails, you go back to New York tonight. And you never say my name again."

The stakes were her life. Her freedom.

Elodie stared at the coin.

"That's not fair. I don't want to go back," she argued.

"Then don't bet," Cassius said. He moved to put the coin away.

"Wait," Elodie cried out.

She looked at his hands. Large. Scarred knuckles. He could manipulate a coin easily.

"I'll take the bet," she said.

"But I flip it."

Cassius laughed. It was a low rumble that vibrated in her chest.

"Don't trust me?"

"Not even a little," she said.

He handed her the coin. It was warm from his touch.

Elodie positioned the coin on her thumb. Her hand was sweating.

Sofia was watching from the balcony above, her mouth open in horror.

Elodie took a deep breath.

She flicked her thumb.

The silver coin spun into the air, catching the strobe lights. It seemed to hang there for an eternity.

She caught it on the back of her left hand and slapped her right hand over it.

Her heart was pounding in her throat. She could feel the faint, tacky residue of the clear lip gloss she'd smeared on her palm in the bathroom. It wasn't enough to be seen, but it was enough to prevent the coin from bouncing, giving her the split-second purchase she needed to feel the sharp relief of Liberty's profile. The eagle was facing up. It was heads.

Cassius leaned in. His eyes were gleaming.

"Call it."

"Heads," Elodie whispered.

She slowly lifted her hand.

The coin sat on her skin, showing the profile of a Liberty head.

Elodie let out a breath, her shoulders sagging with relief.

Cassius stared at the coin. Then he looked at her.

He didn't look disappointed. He looked... entertained. He reached out, his thumb brushing across the center of her palm where the coin had been. He pulled his thumb back, holding it up between them. An almost invisible sheen clung to his skin.

He smirked, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. He knew.

"Heads it is," he said softly. He picked up his glass and raised it to her in a mock toast.

"Welcome to the game, Elodie."

And as he stood and walked away, leaving her trembling in the booth, it was a reminder that her independence wasn't built on strength or strategy.