Primal Bond (Warlords of Vasz #4)

27. Chapter 27

Chapter twenty-seven

Z anik's eyes swept over the familiar cards of Horns and Blades, the high-stakes gambling game favored by Borraq warriors. The deck's worn edges spoke of countless hands played, fortunes won and lost.

He knew every nuance of the game, every subtle play that could make a player lose everything.

But so did Rivek.

The club's patrons crowded around their table, a sea of muscular bodies and gleaming horns. The air crackled with tension as two of the sector's most formidable forces prepared to clash.

Zanik's fingers twitched as he picked up his cards, his mind racing. Finn's life hung in the balance, along with Asher's. The weight of their trust pressed down on him, threatening to crush his composure.

"Nervous, Zanik?" Rivek sneered, his voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd. "Your hands are shaking."

A lie. Zanik smirked. "Just eager to take your credits, Rivek — and your slave."

As he laid down his first card, Zanik's thoughts strayed to Finn. The human's warmth, his defiant spirit, the way he'd wormed his way into Zanik's heart. He couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

"Your move, hotshot," Rivek taunted, tossing down a high-value card.

Zanik hesitated. There was a play he could make with that… but the risk was too great. If he matched Rivek's bet, he could lose Finn in an instant. He couldn't possibly take it. But without taking advantage of it, Rivek's next hand would be far harder to beat…

He'd never played a game of Horns and Blades this stressful before. The game was always so easy—

It hit Zanik. It was always so easy because he never cared about the outcome. He played risky, and that let him win big. Now, though, he was overthinking each move, wanting to play safe.

He'd never win that way. He had to play like the Zanik he'd spent years being, the cold-hearted killer who cared for no one.

With a deep breath, he buried his feelings for Finn, locking them away in the darkest corners of his mind.

"What's the matter, Rivek?" Zanik drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Is this the way you start a round, playing like a mouse? What, are you afraid to up the ante?"

He tossed down a card, doubling Rivek's bet. The crowd hissed, sucking in breaths.

Rivek's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing."

"Try me," Zanik growled, leaning forward. His heart raced, but his face remained an impassive mask.

As the hand played out, Zanik felt a familiar coldness settle over him. He was the ruthless smuggler lord again, caring for nothing but the win. And win he did, revealing a stunning combination that left Rivek sputtering.

"That was just a chance hand," Rivek spat as Zanik raked in the pot.

Zanik allowed himself a predatory grin. "Keep telling yourself that."

The tension in the room thickened with every passing moment, the air crackling with anticipation as Zanik and Rivek locked horns over the table, dealing and playing round after round.

Soon, Rivek’s eyes gleamed with a predatory satisfaction as he laid down his hand of cards. “Looks like that luck of yours is now on my side, Zanik,” he drawled, leaning back with an air of smugness.

Zanik’s fingers tightened around his cards, his jaw clenching. Each card Rivek revealed chipped away at his resolve, and he could sense the shift in the room’s energy.

“Feeling the pressure?” Rivek taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You should have known better than to challenge me.”

Zanik’s mind raced, analyzing the situation from every angle. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, a cacophony of voices betting on his downfall. He didn't dare look at Finn.

Zanik couldn’t afford to lose now, not when so much was at stake.

Rivek’s next move was bold, almost reckless.

And it paid off. Rivek raked in the current pot, his grin widening. “Looks like your luck’s run out, Zanik. Maybe it’s time to fold.”

Zanik's confidence wavered for just a moment, the mask of indifference slipping. "Never."

Rivek’s eyes narrowed, sensing weakness like a predator sensing prey. “I expected more from the great Zanik," he mocked, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Seems like you’re not as formidable as they say.”

Zanik forced himself to take a deep breath, his mind a storm of thoughts. He had to stay focused, had to find a way to turn the tide. The cards in his hand felt heavy, like lead weights pulling him down.

All he needed was time.

Kelara, where are you…?

In the next hand, Rivek looked down at the cards on the table. He grinned. "It doesn't look like you have any good moves left, Zanik."

Damn. He was right. Zanik didn't. There was no way out of this hand — any option he took would give the victory to Rivek.

But there was something else happening. In the very peripheries of his vision, Zanik could see the club's staff beginning to rush towards each other, brows furrowed, whispering under their breaths. A new edginess had come over them, and their smooth customer service was evaporating, leaving them looking unsure of what to do next.

Zanik grinned. The cards on the table didn't mean anything any more.

“Remember one thing, Rivek,” Zanik said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the noise. He leaned forward, meeting Rivek’s gaze with a fierce intensity. “It doesn't matter how bad the scene looks — I make my own moves.”

Zanik watched as confusion flickered across Rivek's face. The smug grin that had been plastered there moments ago faltered, replaced by a look of uncertainty. Zanik's own grin widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Suddenly, the station's PA system crackled to life, a harsh voice booming through the speakers.

"Attention! This is the military. We have the station surrounded. Put down your weapons immediately and surrender!"

The room erupted into chaos. Borraq leapt from their seats, drinks spilling and tables overturning. Panicked shouts and curses filled the air as everyone scrambled for escape routes.

Rivek's eyes widened in shock. "What the—"

Before he could finish, the lights cut out, plunging the entire club into darkness. Zanik's heart raced, adrenaline surging through his veins.

Perfect timing, Kelara.

Zanik's hand went to the hilt of his blade, feeling its familiar weight. He was ready.

Now, he thought, it's time to end this once and for all.