All Bets on Us

#1

Zayn Reveik stepped into the Diamond Casino, leather coat hanging perfectly over his shoulders. His bat-wing tattoo peeked out from under the collar, catching the glow of the neon lights. The casino buzzed with high rollers and desperate gamblers, but he moved like he belonged in the shadows, quiet and precise.

"Apartment's on the top floor," the building manager said quickly, avoiding eye contact. "Penthouse... for business clients, sir."

Zayn gave a small nod. Cah had insisted he have a base here a place for meetings, safety, convenience. He didn't expect it to be... her place.

From above, the soft echo of heels clicking against marble drew his attention. A woman appeared on the penthouse balcony, surveying the casino floor with an expression that could slice steel.

"Mr. Reveik," she said, voice calm but authoritative. "I hear you'll be residing here."

Zayn straightened. "That's correct. Zayn Reveik. Cah's brother."

Agatha Baker nodded slowly, eyes scanning him as if measuring every detail. "I know of your family. SicklyClean... TRTH."

He didn't flinch. "We believe in exposing the truth. Careless or cautious, it doesn't matter."

"Truth has a cost," she said, voice measured. "I run a business that requires precision. I hope you understand boundaries."

"Boundaries are simple," Zayn replied, calm and low. "Respect the rules, nothing goes wrong. Step out of line, and..." He let the sentence hang, the weight of his reputation doing the talking.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, unreadable. "Noted."

They studied each other in silence for a moment, the hum of the casino fading into background noise. No flirting, no sparks, just recognition. Two people who understood power, risk, and the price of their worlds.

"Your apartment is ready," she finally said, stepping aside. "I trust you'll find it satisfactory."

"I'll manage," Zayn said, nodding once. "Thank you, Ms. Baker."

As he made his way upstairs, the lights of Los Santos glittered outside, fire and glass stretching endlessly. Two empires had acknowledged each other. Respect first. Everything else... would come later.

Once inside the penthouse, Zayn dropped his bag and leaned against the wall for a moment. He pulled out his phone. Cah was already texting him.

Cah: So... how's it feel to finally be a penthouse resident? Do they have champagne in the minibar or just sad water?

Zayn: Penthouse is fine. It's... fancy enough to remind me I don't belong here, but not so much that I feel naked.

Cah: Ha. Classic Zayn. And Agatha? Don't tell me you've already gotten yourself killed in the lobby by staring too hard.

Zayn smirked, typing slowly. "Haven't died yet. No staring incidents. I keep it professional."

Cah: Professional Zayn? Are we even related? Send me a selfie with your bat wings visible or I'll know you're lying.

Zayn rolled his eyes, but sent a quick snap. Bat-wing tattoo sharp under the collar, exactly as iconic as always.

Cah: Yup, verified. You're alive, dangerous, and ridiculously handsome. Typical.

Zayn pocketed the phone, letting out a low chuckle. Even Cah, in her busy chaos, had the uncanny ability to make the moment lighter. A little comedy, a little madness, just enough to remind him why family mattered, even when the city was a battlefield.

He walked over to the balcony, staring at the city below. Somewhere up there, Agatha Baker's sharp gaze was still on the floor. Professional first. Respect. Boundaries. Everything else... would wait.