Chapter 124: Chapter 124 - Lost In Time
They didn’t stay at that table.
Someone pointed her toward another game. Someone else cleared space for her without asking. Coins moved with her now, carried, counted, reset in front of different layouts. Dice. Lights. Another set of numbers that didn’t wait.
She laughed more easily.
Not loud. Not sloppy. Just loose enough that the tension in her shoulders faded. A drink appeared in her hand. She took a sip this time. Then another. Warmth settled in, not heavy, just enough to blur the edges.
She kept winning.
Not every round, but enough that the pile never shrank. People noticed. Strangers leaned in, asked her name, asked where she’d learned to play like that. Someone clapped when she hit another streak.
"That’s her," someone said nearby. "The one from the numbers table."
Marybeth hovered close, smiling but watching her carefully. Brix was laughing, already telling the story to anyone who would listen.
Iyisha didn’t think about it too hard.
It felt good. Too good. Like the world had narrowed to sound and light and movement, like nothing else mattered for once.
Another win.
Another drink.
Someone from the edge of the crowd leaned in closer.
"I’m Mikey," he said.
She glanced to her left.
He was Asian, good looking in a neat, controlled way. Hair clean, shirt pressed, posture straight. The kind of man who looked like he had lived by schedules once, tutors until ten, straight A’s earned, rules followed.
"Astrel," she said. The name came easily, but the instinct to keep herself tucked away stayed with her.
"You’re lucky," he said, eyes dropping briefly to the coins stacked in front of her. "Really lucky."
She smiled. "First time."
He let out a short laugh. "Then what’s the secret. I’m getting wrecked."
She glanced at his tray. Half his bets were gone.
"Maybe you need a lucky charm," she said lightly.
Mikey’s smile shifted, slower this time.
"Maybe," he said, voice dropping a notch, "I just need you closer." His eyes flicked briefly to her hands, then back to her face. "You know. Rub some of that luck on me."
The words hung there.
She blinked at him, processing it literally instead of how he meant it. "Oh," she said, nodding. "You can sit if you want."
He paused, clearly surprised, then laughed under his breath as he moved closer, taking the space beside her.
"Guess that works," he said, still smiling.
She didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered a second too long, or how his tone carried more than his words. To her, it was just another superstition, another casino thing people said when they were losing.
She smiled back, easy. "You’re close enough."
His grin widened.
Someone pointed her toward another game. Someone else slid her coins into place. The crowd followed, swelling, reshaping itself around her without her really noticing.
Before Mikey could say anything else, a voice cut in from behind him.
"Hey. Let her bet."
A hand landed on his shoulder, nudging him back just enough to break the space. A man in glasses leaned in, eyes fixed on the table.
"Yeah," someone else said. "Don’t mess it up."
Mikey leaned back, palms lifting. "Right. Sorry."
Iyisha looked up, confused.
They weren’t watching him anymore. They weren’t watching her face either.
They were watching her hands.
Coins were already being lined up around the table again, people holding them, waiting, eyes flicking between her fingers and the numbers.
"Come on," someone urged. "Do it again."
The dealer cleared his throat softly. "Whenever you’re ready."
Mikey leaned in close, his mouth near her ear so she could hear him over the noise. "Hey," he said, quick and low, "guards are coming."
She turned toward him.
"You want to move somewhere quieter," he added, eyes flicking down and back up, the meaning riding under the words, "before they ruin the mood."
Her stomach tightened, not quite sure what he meant, not quite liking how he said it.
She glanced past him and saw the guards pushing through the crowd, calm faces, purposeful steps. She couldn’t tell if they were coming for the noise or for her.
She looked back at Mikey—
And froze when another hand settled on her shoulders.
Firm. Steady.
"Let’s go."
She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and looked up.
Cyborg appeared at Malcolm’s side, shaking his head with a grin like he still couldn’t quite believe what he’d watched.
"Lucky girl," he said, eyes flicking to the pile of coins left behind. "I’ll take care of your winnings."
He leaned in a fraction, the smile still there, but his voice dropped. "We need to go."
Iyisha caught the shift immediately. The way the words were said, not loud, not rushed, but firm.
"Oh," she said, nodding. She pushed herself up from the chair and nearly misjudged it, her balance slipping for a second.
Malcolm caught her without comment.
She felt her face heat and laughed softly, embarrassed. "I’m fine."
He made a quiet sound under his breath, somewhere between a sigh and a tsk, irritation clear even without words, but his arm stayed solid around her, keeping her steady.
"Easy," he said.
Around them, the table protested.
"Hey—"
"Where are you going."
"One more round."
Someone groaned. Someone else laughed like they couldn’t believe it.
Cyborg didn’t look back. He was already moving, already cutting a path through the crowd.
Malcolm guided her with him, ignoring the looks, the muttered complaints, the disappointment thick in the air. Iyisha leaned into his hold without thinking, her steps uneven but trusting.
They rode the golf cart in silence.
The night air hit her as soon as they pulled away, cooler than she expected, enough to clear her head just a little. The casino lights shrank behind them, still bright, still loud even from a distance.
"Where’s Brix and Marybeth?" she asked, breaking the quiet.
Malcolm kept his eyes forward. His jaw was set, not tight enough to look angry, but the energy around him was sharp. "They went in first," he murmured.
"Really?" she said. "They went back early, didn’t they?"
He didn’t answer.
She shifted in her seat. "What time is it?"
"It’s one," he said.
"One what?"
"One in the morning."
Iyisha froze.
That couldn’t be right.
She twisted in her seat and looked back at the building they’d left. The music still pulsed faintly through the walls. People were still going in. Still laughing. Still chasing the same rush she’d been riding without noticing the time at all.
That’s when it hit her.
How easy it was.
How fast it swallowed hours.
How natural it felt to stay.
Her stomach sank.
"I’m sorry," she muttered.
Malcolm didn’t answer.
His eyes stayed on the road ahead, hands steady on the wheel, posture rigid in a way she knew meant he was holding something back. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t lecturing.
And that somehow felt worse.
She leaned back and went quiet, the guilt settling in as the casino lights disappeared behind a turn, leaving only the soft hum of the cart and the certainty that she’d crossed a line she hadn’t even seen at the time.
