Meanwhile, down in the first-floor lobby of the Sky Casino. Tristan had finally tracked down Shirley. He strode up to find her sitting there with a sour look on her face, aggressively eating a slice of cake. His tone carried a sharp edge of reproach. "All you ever do is eat. Did you even finish what the boss asked you to do?" The question barely left his mouth before he noticed something off. His gaze dropped to her neck, and his voice turned low. "What happened to your neck? Mosquito bite?" Shirley's hand went instinctively to the spot. Internally, she was still fuming. She had no idea what had gotten into Mike—dragging her into some empty corner and going at her neck like a lunatic. It was itchy and sore as hell. Luckily, she'd come to her senses fast enough and decked him hard enough to send him running. "Got bit by a dog," she said flatly, shoving another forkful of cake into her mouth without a care in the world. "Don't worry about it. I chased the mutt off." Tristan didn't push it and cut straight to the point. "Did you find them?" Shirley shot him a sideways glance, a mischievous grin creeping across her face as her eyes flicked meaningfully toward a deeper corner inside. Tristan caught on instantly, walked straight over, and pushed open the door tucked into the corner. Behind it, several people lay hog-tied on the floor with rags stuffed in their mouths, managing nothing but muffled grunts. Tristan nodded and threw Shirley a thumbs-up—the girl's reputation as a pint-sized wrecking ball was well earned. Just then, several casino staff in black suits appeared behind them, seemingly out of nowhere. The manager at the front offered a polite nod and a practiced smile. "If there's anything at all you two need, our boss says just say the word."Tristan's brow furrowed, suspicion sharpening his gaze. "Your boss?" Shirley tensed in the same instant, every nerve on high alert. Her hand slipped behind her back and quietly drew a blade. "That's right," the manager continued, smooth as silk. "Originally, our boss had us on standby to deal with these bottom-feeders ourselves. But since you two have already taken care of it, no need for us to step on your toes. Also, your friend is currently with our boss. As for the people you've nabbed—you're welcome to leave them in our custody." The words were courteous enough, but the underlying message was clear—they wanted the captives handed over. At least there was no force behind the request, which made it easier to swallow. It clicked for Tristan in an instant—the real owner behind the Sky Casino had to be Darius. After all, their so-called "friend" had just left with Darius. There was no other explanation.The moment Shirley heard that Thora was with their boss, every ounce of tension drained from her body. The blade behind her back slid quietly back into its sheath. Good. Not enemies, then. Tristan's stare remained cold and unyielding, locked onto the manager. The manager, for his part, maintained the same effortlessly polished smile—composed, courteous, not an inch of ground given. ... On the second floor of the casino. After hearing Badi out, Dorian's response came in a tone as cold as ice. "So, Mr. Baker, the quantity of firearms you're looking to purchase isn't particularly large. There's no need to bring this directly to the Ciphers' main house. As businessmen, we don't concern ourselves with how the weapons are used. But the Ciphers have rules, Mr. Baker, and I'm sure you've heard of them—every industry has its own code. "The Ciphers' main house deals exclusively with families, packs, or nations that possess sufficient wealth and influence. Any smaller groups looking to acquire firearms can go through our licensed distributors or pick them up from independent dealers. If every person in Chaules who wanted to buy a weapon came knocking directly on the main house's door ... well, I shouldn't need to spell out what would happen." Every industry had its own unwritten rules, and the firearms trade was no exception. Every nation and armed faction on the continent kept close tabs on top-tier arms dealers like the Ciphers. If the main house started cutting deals with every small fish like Badi, where would that leave the superpowers and elite military organizations they actually served? Dorian fixed his gaze on the man sitting across from him, his voice carrying an unmistakable weight of authority. "Or do you believe, Mr. Baker, that you've somehow earned the right to sit here and negotiate with me?" From the moment he'd walked through that door, Badi had been completely steamrolled by Dorian's presence. The truth was, he wanted to build an army of his own. He was sick of living under the thumb of the Astralis Empire's monarchy—those royals were incompetent fools, especially the Lycan King himself, a spineless, greedy weakling who had no business ruling an empire. Badi was done being shackled. All he wanted was to tear down the rotting monarchy and seize power for himself. He wanted his own military force, and for that, he needed weapons—a lot of them. His reasoning for approaching the Ciphers was simple. In his country, the pack he led was the wealthiest of them all, controlling the lion's share of the nation's fortune and wielding the most influence. With that kind of clout, he'd assumed a face-to-face with the head of the Ciphers was his by right. But after today, it was becoming painfully clear that things didn't work the way he'd imagined. Dorian's words lit a fire in his chest."You sell, I buy, and I've got the money! That's all the qualification I need! I'm willing to pay top dollar!" Badi's voice rose to a near-shout, his chin still stubbornly high—in his world, money talked, and nobody in their right mind turned it down. The corner of Dorian's lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes. "Oh? So what Mr. Baker is saying ... is that he's willing to pay double?"