Never Bet Against The House

Ezra Matten always knew the answer before the question was even asked. Tonight, however, at the casino card table, he faced a problem that even his brilliant mind found challenging.

He had been winning consistently, too consistently, and he knew what was going on. It was all a setup. The house was letting him win, inflating his ego, only to crush him at the climax.

He couldn't let that happen. This was his last shot. His desperate Hail Mary attempt to climb out of the pit of debt that had swallowed his life.

The dealer slid another card his way, and Ezra glanced at his hand. He was playing with his last cash, every credit he could scrape together, in a last-ditch effort to secure fast money.

His mind raced, evaluating probabilities, reading the subtle tells of the other players, calculating the deceit hidden behind their eyes.

Ezra had always made smart choices in his life. He grew up poor, so he had to. When others were chasing girls, he was studying hard to enter law school. He had sacrificed a lot to get to where he was and when he got there, oh how sweet it was.

Even with how smart he was, it took just one stupid choice to ruin his life.

He fell in love with the wrong woman.

Emily.

If only he had known.

Everyday, he cursed the day he met Emily Hargrave. She had taken all his IDs and documents and borrowed millions of credits in his name. He had woken up the next day to his bed cold and Emily gone.

When she was with him, she made his heart pound with love. When she left him, she made his heart pound with heartbreak. Now, Ezra's heart pounded, not from the thrill of the game in front of him but from the awareness of the trap closing in.

He'd been calculating. He'd had most cards needed for a royal flush pass through his hands and had replaced them with trash cards that he'd sneaked in. He'd doctored every suit except the spade.

The dealer dealt his hand and he glanced at it.

Fuck! He whispered in this comfort of his mind. Not a single spade in sight. He'd have to rely on his acting skills.

Showtime.

"Royal flush." He whispered seemingly to himself but in a voice designed for all the table to hear. He exaggerated his joy, a broad grin stretching across his face as he slapped his cards down. "Gentlemen, I believe this is my night," he said, his voice brimming with false confidence.

The players around him shifted uncomfortably. Ezra's good luck at the table had already been felt by their pockets and his apparent confidence unsettled them. He could see the doubt flicker in their eyes, the hesitation.

Slowly, with utmost confidence, he pushed all his chips to the center of the table. "All in." He glanced at the dealer who was frowning slightly. So far, so good.

Tension filled the air as the other players glanced at their hands and at each other. Ezra's heart pounded as he watched.

"Fuck it!" One of the players who had messy red hair and a scraggly beard slapped his cards on the table shooting the dealer an irritated frown. "I fold."

If not for his self-control, he would have heaved a huge sigh of relief. That had to be the house's plant at the table.

With one person giving up, the others followed suit. One by one, they folded, unable to shake the belief that Ezra had the unbeatable hand he claimed.

When the last player folded, Ezra exhaled slowly, gathering the pot with trembling hands. He'd secured breathing space. His act had paid off.

He stood up, feigning nonchalance as he collected his winnings, every fiber of his being focused on maintaining the charade until he was safely out of the casino.

Ezra walked briskly towards the cashier, his mind already strategizing his next steps. He needed to lay low, convert the cash into something less traceable, and pay off the most pressing debts.

As he exited the casino, the cool night air was a welcome relief. He ducked into a nearby alley, intending to take a shortcut to his secondhand hover car parked a few blocks away. If he was about to be mugged, this was the perfect place for it. As if on cue, he heard footsteps behind him, quick and purposeful.

He turned just in time to see a figure step out of the darkness, a grim smile on his face. "You thought you could just walk away, huh?" The voice was cold, dripping with menace. It was the red headed plant at the table. "Unfortunately for you, the Red Orphans never forget."

Ezra's heart sank. He had heard rumors about the Red Orphans, their ruthless tactics, and their unforgiving nature. He knew just how much danger he was in.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. At this point, the money was a goner. "Take the money. Just let me go."

The thug laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "It's not just about the money, genius. You embarrassed us. Made us look like fools. And that, we can't allow." With a swift motion, the man lunged, the glint of a knife catching the faint light from the street.

Pain exploded in Ezra's side as the blade found its mark. He gasped, stumbling back against the wall. The thug grabbed the bag of money, before rifling through Ezra's pockets with brutal efficiency. "Consider this a lesson," he sneered stabbing twice more before disappearing back into the night.

Ezra collapsed to the ground, clutching his wound. The alley seemed to close in on him, the darkness pressing down as his vision blurred.

Thoughts raced through his mind, disjointed and frantic. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. He had always been a step ahead, always knew the answer.

Is this how I'll die? He asked himself as his vision darkened.

Click! Clack!

Click! Clack!

The sound of shoes echoed down the alley as someone approached.

Is the grim reaper coming for my soul? That sound like ladies' shoes.

A lady entered his line of sight. Due to his blurry vision, he couldn't see much.

The grim reaper is a lady? At that moment, he realized that if he dies, he won't feel the touch of a woman ever again. Dying sure sucks.

The lady bent down in front of him. She put a hand on the knife wounds on his stomach and the world paused.

Woosh!

Ezra's vision turned clear as if he had been pulled back from the road to the afterlife.

Woah!

The lady crouching in front of him smiled without a hint of friendliness, displaying what looked like fangs. Her hair was as dark as the shadows, framing a face with a beauty that was out of this world. With eyes as red as blood and full sensual lips, she was like every man's wet dream.

Dressed in a low-cut gown, every curve of her voluptuous figure was highlighted. Ezra's eyes were transfixed by the big melons in front of him. Her breasts stood together like lone soldiers at a parade. He reached out a hand and gently touched it to check if it was real.

"Can we do it before I die?" He blurted out without thinking.