Fourth street. I drew the seven of clubs. The shark drew the ace of diamonds.
Mark lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, the ember glowing. "Kerry, you still dare to call?"
I stared at my pair of sevens, trusting my hole card to carry me through.
"Call."
"Show them."
I refused to believe they had three aces. I was willing to gamble everything.
But when the hole cards flipped—my three sevens crumbled against their three aces.
I slumped back against the chair, fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms.
The crowd erupted in cheers. If I won, they'd get the money—and the chance to violate my mother.
"Ha! Told you Kerry would lose. A worthless piece of trash like him against the God of Gamblers? Please."
"Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."
Mark blew cigarette smoke directly into my face, his arrogance suffocating.
"Kerry, how could you lose? Your mother's still in that cage, waiting for you to save her!"
I lifted my head, eyes bloodshot, glaring at them. The dealer's final card had been rigged—I'd seen the God of Gamblers make his move, but what could I do about it? No one here would believe me. They were all praying for my complete destruction.