Page 21 of Outcast’s Vow

“You don’t scare me, Baptiste.”

“Oh, you must really want a vacation, Clement.”

“Or maybe I have you exactly where I want you,” my friend says. “Maybe you’re bluffing. Maybe you’re too busy thinking about Sylvie Levine to focus on your game. Are you going to match me, or are you a coward?”

I slowly slide my chips into the middle of the table.

“What about that, Clement?”

“Dumb move,” he snorts. “But thank you.”

“Time to see who’s won, boys,” Fabien says, sipping his drink and admiring the game.

The dealer reveals the community cards, laying out the flop: jack of spades, six of diamonds, and ten of spades. The turn card is next: an ace of spades. Clement flips over his cards, revealing an ace of hearts and a six of hearts. Two pair.

“Two pair. Aces and sixes.”

“Very good,” Fabien remarks.

Clement leans back. His self-satisfaction is on full display.

“I can’t wait to visit Monaco,” he purrs. “There’s a fabulous resort there that I know Elise will absolutely love. Thank you, Baptiste, for the pocket money. I promise I’ll spend it wisely.”

“Hold off on calling your travel agent yet, Clement. It’s my turn.”

I flip over my own cards, revealing the king of spades and queen of spades.

Clement’s cocky smile fades in full cognizance of what’s happening.

The dealer shows the final card. The four of spades.

Ace of spades, king of spades, queen of spades, jack of spades, and ten of spades. The perfect hand.

A royal flush.

I win.

“You motherfucker,” Clement snarls at me.

I simply collect my chips.

If only Sylvie could see this, maybe it would wipe that elitist smug off her face. Maybe then she’ll truly realize the extent I will go to win. Maybe she’ll realize how sincere I was when I promised her I will protect her.

“Well done, Baptiste,” Fabien says.

“Always a pleasure to win good money against you boys,” I say as Clement groans and shakes my hand in gentlemanly defeat. Fabien pours us all another glass of scotch.

“You smug, smart, lovable bastard, Baptiste,” Clement says as we clink glasses again. The alcohol burns down my throat.

And I can tell Fabien wants to speak.

“Sorry to bring down the mood, but has there been any word yet about Mikhail Klein’s murder?”

There’s a twist in my gut. It’s only fair for him to bring up the Masked Killer’s recent murder. Fabien is still searching for answers to his parents’ murder. The Masked Killer made him an orphan when he was only eleven, then disappeared for years.

But someone’s killed an Elder, then disappeared. Is it the Masked Killer? Fabien is afraid it might be.

Clement shakes his head, now serious.