Badi's temper flared—double the price! He hadn't brought nearly enough counterfeit bills for that. He slammed his palms on the table and shot to his feet. "That's highway robbery!" Dorian let out a cold laugh and said nothing. Badi crumbled almost instantly, but his pride wouldn't let him fold quietly. After a long, agonizing pause, he ground his teeth and forced the words out. "Fine. Double it is. But I want the best—the most advanced you've got!" Dorian's lips barely moved as three unhurried words left his mouth. "Not a problem." "I've brought enough for a deposit today. The rest we settle on delivery—cash on delivery." Badi seized the chance to push his terms. The way he saw it, this was practically buying at the original price. Worst case, he'd just go back and pick up another batch of counterfeits to cover the difference. Dorian gave a tacit nod of agreement and gestured for his people to count the money. Badi clenched his jaw, waved his hand, and signaled his remaining bodyguards to hand over the cash cases. Both sides stepped forward for the count. One bill after another ran through the counting machine with a crisp, rhythmic hiss. Every person in the room felt an inexplicable tension tightening in their chest. "Boss. All counted." Dorian acknowledged with a flat hum and extended his hand. One of his men immediately placed a stack of bills into it. Dorian pinched the bills between his fingers, and his expression slowly darkened. Badi's heart climbed straight into his throat. At the same moment, the man running the scanner finished his cross-check and went pale. He stood abruptly, his voice hard. "Boss, every single bill is counterfeit." A flash of panic shot through Badi's eyes. He scrambled to defend himself. "Impossible! Your machine must be broken! Why would I bring fake money?" He lurched to his feet. Dorian's men snapped their weapons up in unison, every barrel trained on him. Badi's guards drew just as fast. Both sides stood locked in a standoff, the air crackling with barely restrained violence. What happened next hinged entirely on Dorian. Dorian toyed with the counterfeit bill in his hand, his voice cold enough to frost glass. "Do you know what I hate most, Mr. Baker?" Badi kept up the act. "Mr. Cipher, this is all a misunderstanding! I would never use fake bills—it has to be a problem with the equipment!" Dorian raised one hand slowly. That single hand seemed to hold the power of life and death itself, and every person in the room stopped breathing.He extended one finger. A sharp crack echoed through the suite, and a body hit the floor—the bodyguard who had handed over the cash dropped with a bullet through his head. When a second finger went up, another man crumpled where he stood. Badi was shaking from head to toe. Dorian didn't warn, didn't negotiate—he just killed, without a shred of hesitation. Dorian let out a cold, mirthless laugh and hurled the fistful of fake bills straight into Badi's face. "You thought you could con me." In one fluid motion, he snatched the gun from the man beside him and pressed the muzzle against Badi's temple. His finger began to tighten on the trigger. Then a gunshot split the air—sharp, metallic, trailing the acrid bite of gunpowder. The weapon was ripped clean from Dorian's hand and sent clattering to the floor. His fingers trembled faintly as his cold gaze snapped toward where the shot had come from. Badi had already collapsed to the ground in a heap, too terrified to move a muscle. The suite door exploded inward with a single kick, and a young figure in a white blazer strode through without breaking stride. Every gun in the room swiveled toward her. She didn't show a flicker of fear. When Dorian saw who it was, he raised a hand. His men lowered their weapons immediately. A fresh bullet hole in the door still radiated heat, wisps of smoke curling from its charred edges. Thora walked straight up to Dorian and offered a casual greeting. "Mr. Cipher." Before the words had fully left her lips, she reached down and hauled Badi off the floor with one hand. "Ahhh—" Badi let out a panicked shriek. Only then did he get a clear look at the person gripping him—it was the same young player from the card table. But she was pinning him with a single hand, and he couldn't summon enough strength to so much as squirm. "Commander Green's way of making an entrance just keeps getting more creative." Dorian's tone was ice-cold, a thread of displeasure woven through it. Thora's voice was steady and absolute, every word landing like a gavel. "Desperate times. I hope you'll understand, Mr. Cipher. Also—this man is mine." There was no room for negotiation in her tone. This wasn't a request—it was a declaration.