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The room was silent. A single oil lamp swung above, making shadows dance like caught fish.

“No,” Valentin whispered. “It’s the house’s. The real house. The game you’ve been playing isn’t for coin, Silas. It’s for what’s left of your soul.” faro scene crack

And the faro scene cracked clean in two—one half a smoky backroom, the other a stairwell descending into a place where the house always wins. The room was silent

“Fold,” Valentin said.

Valentin wiped his brow. The air was thick with cigar smoke and the sour perfume of desperation. Across the table, Silas Crane smiled. It was the smile of a man who had already counted the winnings. he was listening.

In truth, he was listening.