7 days left ; Tuesday ; 4 days until the party

"High card for Dealer Position. Ms. Kamila is a small blind, $5,000 and Mr. Frazer to the big blind $10,000." The caller calls out as I sit there ready to play my bet to avoid a split-pot with my opponent.

I sit up straightening my back and confidently staring at my opponent, attempting to ease him into a defeat.

My specialty was poker. Nobody has ever beaten me, so tonight should be a breeze. I'm almost there to finalizing the amount I need to give to Hart when I get the bag tonight.

I was playing against college-age jackasses who think they can play. so they can parade around their friends as a 'poker pro'.

As I previously stated, once a Kook, always a Kook. They can get anywhere with money. Or, at least, they believe that daddies' money can be used as an excuse slip to slither through life.

When life hits them, however, they have no one to turn to. It's sad to see how they operate. If only they could all sit down and remove the personas to see each other for who they truly are and accept it.

It's like a scuff in a perfect world. Nothing or no one will ever be perfect because we are all waiting for someone to break so that we can feel validated enough to speak up.

If we knew we were created to be ourselves, maybe we'd all be able to step out and accept life for what it is.

If we surrounded ourselves with people who encouraged us to be ourselves, to dream, to have our rights, and to not be judged.

My opponent places three cards worth $10,000 on the table. There are no spades, only hearts. So he believes he can entice me into slow play. As I shuffle through my cards, I cast a nervous glance at him. I placed two chips on the table.

With my seemingly nervous expression, I appear to have caught him off guard. The audience erupts in gasps.

"50,000, check." I say this as I lean back in my chair, raising my brows and looking at him with confidence in my eyes.

In situations like these, I feel a sense of security in my name. The world around you is a lion's den, but as long as you keep your enemies close, you won't need a backup plan.

"Bet.", the Kook says through gritted teeth glaring at me with pure hatred.

I wink at him, letting him know that I'm anticipating his next move. He opened with a big blind, which gave me the opportunity to split my cards and straddle a sit-and-go. In other words, don't place a large bet in the first round.

I watch him as he shuffles his cards, pretending to have the card to split the pot. But I knew he didn't have the right card because of the three rainbow sets he laid out in front of me.

As the silence around us grew and the only sound heard was the clock behind him, I took a sip of booze, slightly squinting my eyes at him.

Under my gaze, he began to fidget. I've got him. He's exactly where I need him to be. He didn't have a royal flush to split the pot. I haven't put any cards down yet, so my short stack is more valuable.

I started hearing whispers as his kook friends behind him realized the loss he was about to suffer. For a split second, I give him a sweet smile, feeling sympathetic towards him.

He looks at me, his eyes glazed over from drinking too much. Now here's where he went wrong: never drink before a poker game.

"Mr. Frazer, you have 10 seconds to make a play. You will be disqualified if you sit out ", the caller declares.

The clock appears to be on my side, as each tick becomes increasingly louder, causing Mr. Frazer to squirm under the immense pressure of my semi-bluff.

Tick. Mr. Frazer's finger caresses a card for a few moments longer as he focuses on a single card. His gaze is fixed on the card as his jaw tightens and he knits his brows, hoping that the silence around him will work in his favor.

Tick. As we lock gazes, I take another sip of booze, his mouth forming a subtle smirk. My heart beats faster as I recall my father. This one's for him. If Frazer pulls out a top pair, my bluff failed. My mind races around, finally arriving to the conclusion that I am being played.

Tick. I squeeze my hand under the table to calm the nervous energy coursing through my body. Frazer taps his card, which he had been concentrating on, and slowly pulls it out. I lean in, my heart racing as I recall having an ace chip. If I'm correct, my bluff works. If I'm wrong, poker is out of the question in my book.

Tick. He discards the card, revealing a Quads. I take a deep breath, knowing that if he chooses to sit out in the next few seconds, I will win. Tick. I catch a glimpse of confidence in his eyes as he looks up at me.

"5 seconds left."

Tick. He couldn't possibly make another play with only two cards remaining. He never used them during the entire game, proving that those cards are worthless in any case.

Tick.

As I feel the impending victory in my name, I straighten my posture. I tilt my head to the side, not showing any signs of fear.

A warmth in my chest relieved the tension, and the weight on my shoulders vanished completely.

Tick.

Frazer places his last card face down on the table. As I concentrate on the card, I block out everything else around me. As if the world were moving at a snail's pace, his hands slowly flip over the card, revealing one heart as my heart beats faster.

Shi-

"Bet."

"All cards in. No limit late position."

What the fuck?

I shift my gaze away from the card and toward the deep voice.

Rafe mother-fucking Cameron took a seat in front of me, locking my gaze with dark blue eyes, drowning me out as I had tried to grasp the finish line.

I scoff. My body is filled with rage as I clench both of my fists. He ruined my chances of rebuilding a relationship with clarity.

I desired peace. As I tried to hold it together, my entire world crumbled before my eyes. I needed to let it all out. The weight on my shoulders returning to its original position weighed me down even more.

I am so fucking tired.

"Check-raise."

The bastard raised the stakes. I don't play higher than 50,000.

Rafe nods as he turns to face the caller. He shifts his gaze back to me. We lock our gazes on each other, hatred visible to the open eye.

He stank of alcohol, but he didn't appear inebriated. He was planning to play a semi-bluff on me.

I wasn't going to let him win.

"More cash? Isn't your father overburdened? Or is he too preoccupied with drugs?" I spit out.

Rafe tightens his jaw and repositions himself. He gives me a stern look before returning to his cards.

Was I going to be the one to remind Rafe, or would I be sympathetic and let it go?

He was squeezing my life, bringing me to my knees, and towering over me as if he owned me.

Rafe Cameron was a psychopath. He was tasked with stealing, killing, and destroying. Rafe Cameron couldn't be fixed.

Is that so? My subconscious questioning me.

I am not going to let him stand in the way of my father. I will not let him stand in the way like he did with his father, killing the innocent.

I'm staring at him, not a care in the world. Forgetting his transgressions. Taking advantage of his position, clutching at it.

He can only keep it for so long.

"100,000. Cold call."

That was the sum I was attempting to win.

I shuffle through my newly given cards, singling out the weak ones so that I would have a full house.

Rafe shuffled his cards with ease, conveying the confidence of a skilled poker player.

I could tell from the way he shuffled his cards that he had an off-suit of different cards worth a lot more than my pile.

"High Card for Dealer Position. No bluffs. No sit-outs. Ms. Kamila 10,000. Mr. Cameron, 90,000."

Rafe snorts when the caller says my name.

"Call." Rafe puts in his minimum amount to the pot to continue his build up.

"Check," I say as I skip my turn. I wanted to see what his next move was so that I could execute properly when the time came.

Rafe places a duplicate card making it a counterfeit. He devalues my cards making my 6's worthless.

I place down a gutshot of 5 and 6 hearts earning a "ooh" from the crowd.

Rafe taps his fingers on the table, concentrating harder now that I've made it more difficult for him to win.

My mind was racing as I tried to prepare for something I wasn't prepared for. My body was aching from taking the hit for everyone.

I wasn't a people pleaser, but I also wasn't someone who would ignore someone who was broken.

Something in the back of my mind was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't put it into words because I was too preoccupied with the sensation of breaking someone.

I could feel myself losing my sanity at this point, but the only thing I could hold onto was seeing him lose.

Voices ran back and forth in my head, but I couldn't hear them. The only thing I could hear was my rage at the world and how I was treated.

I considered myself to be a good daughter. A good friend. A decent individual. Why does it feel like no matter how hard I try to be someone for someone, it always comes back to punch me in the gut?

The weight I was feeling was trying to keep me from making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing, even if it was true. I couldn't do it. But I couldn't help myself.

"Rake."

Rafe extends his hands, waiting for me to deal him three of my cards. He's clever; it's unusual for someone to use the 'Rake' play.

I hand him three of my cards, and he roughly takes my three cards. Time is ticking away, and he is becoming anxious.

Rafe abruptly places two of my cards that I had given him on the table. Shit. He flipped the script. I stare at him with wide eyes, unsure how to respond. This is the first time I've seen this play.

His stupid smirk makes my blood boil. I sigh in frustration. If it weren't for the rules, I'd beat this prick up right now.

My head lightens, prompting me to take a sip of booze. Booze would only make things worse, but I didn't care because I had to win right now. I wished I could drink away my pain.

"Vodka is more effective, Kie." Rafe says this as he stares me down, his smirk never leaving his face.

"8 Seconds. Make your move."

I wipe the booze from my mouth. My headache has subsided. I throw down my most valuable chip on the table. The audience is deafeningly quiet. This could be my chance.

I take a look at his chips and notice that mine are more valuable. I felt a wave of relief wash over me because I was about to

"All in." Rafe says proudly as he places a chip on the table that was not in my line of sight.

The audience erupts. Rafe sits there carefully watching me, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes locked on me like a lion's gaze locked on its prey.

"You let the murderer in the game?" I ask the caller out loud.

I was walking on thin ice. But I wasn't about to back down. My jaw tightened as I locked my gaze on him. My remark drew a hushed response from the people around us.

Rafe looked at me, as if his rage was about to get the best of him. I saw it again for a brief moment. The same look he gave me before choking me that day, the flash in his eyes.

The human side that we have when someone confronts us, knocking us back to reality.

My rage drove me to keep going, to gain the upper hand.

This environment, his people, his friends. This was perfect.

All I had to do was play the right cards for checkmate to work.

I lean in, tilting my head to look at him.

"Yeah. Not a fair play. But I'm guessing daddy never taught you how to play fairly, did he?" I state my case.

I see Rafe start to get up. "Sit your ass back down. I won." I say, getting ready to stand my ground.

"I won, Kiara."

"But did you win over your father?"I say clenching my fists, trying to keep my rage at bay.

The crowed around us was muffled as I stared at Rafe Infront of me. Our chests heaving in anger. It felt like we were the only two people in the room.

He stood there in all his majesty, deafeningly silent. I couldn't stand there watching him after Sarah, John B, and Sherriff Peterkin were all gone.

All because of him.

My rage was too much for me to bear, and I surprised myself by lunging at him. But before I could approach him, I was yanked back.

I couldn't tell who he was because his eyes were so dark. His blue eyes darkened into grey storms.

"That is a violation, and you have completely disregarded our rules; you are banned from this game!" The caller yells at me.

I hear boos all around me. I yanked myself away from the Kook who was holding me back.

"You let him play first, then you disqualify me? You're only here because I helped you bring an audience here." I yell back at the caller.

The audience had come here to see me play because of rumors about a girl being the unbeatable winner in Charleston.

Around me, I hear some 'yeahs!' and 'she's right!'

The caller looks at me, realizing I was correct. As he looks at his watch, he sighs.

"11:00 on the dot. Street Race. Be there or we take all your money because of the rule you broke." the caller says as he looks at me hoping I'd take the bet.

"Now you're talking.", I say excitedly. I head for the door. Rafe stops me, his hand around my arm.

"Never place a bet you know you'll lose.", Rafe says as his grip tightens, his voice tense.

"You're the one with the big losses." I say through my teeth, pulling away from his grip.

~

"The first person to cross the finish line wins 200,000! The runner-up receives 80,000 "The announcer yells. "No cheating, ramming, or pit stops!"

The announcer waves the racing flag in my direction "Have any questions? Because you are new here, state them now."

I put on my helmet and sit back on my motorcycle. I shake my head, flipping the visor down to indicate that I had no questions. I wasn't going to appear clueless.

I rev my engine, getting the bike ready by warming it up and getting it going. Rafe's presence is felt to my right as the sound of our engines and the crowd's cheers enter my ears.

Adrenaline begins to rush through my veins as I look ahead, eager to finish this race.

Growing up, my father was a motorcycle enthusiast, so I learned to ride one when I was younger.

As the traffic light was about to turn green, I tightened my grip on the handle bars, preparing to push off the ground.

As soon as the light turned green, I pushed off the ground, balancing my weight on the bike and speeding ahead.

I could feel Rafe close behind me, which motivated me to concentrate on what was ahead, strategizing any possible shortcuts.

This was a street I'd never been on before, so he had an advantage in terms of shortcuts. But I knew that if I just kept going, the finish line would show up.

I hear his bike in the distance and see him turn right down a road through my side mirrors.

He has a strategy. I refocused my attention straight ahead and decided to keep going straight.

I calculated that continuing straight would be faster than driving through back alleys and shorter roads to reach the main road where the finish line was located.

I continued straight when I noticed Rafe on my right and a building with a two-way glass in between us.

I revved up my engine even more, driving slower on hills and faster on the main road.

Images of my father and the Pogues flashed through my mind, causing me to tighten my grip on the handle bars even more.

The wind against my skin made me feel unstoppable. I felt so liberated. Fighting for something felt so right.

This feeling of crossing the finish line reminded me of the day I ran after Sarah and John B died.

But this time was different. I had planned to finish something. I was going to help my father. I was going to do exactly what John B and Sarah would have wanted me to do.

And that's where I went wrong. Was I fighting for my father or for myself? And it hit me like a punch in the gut.

I could see the finish line ahead of me, but it was blurry.

Who are you really supposed to fight for, Kiara?

I raced through the finish line but kept going. I had to get out of there. Away from everyone.

"You didn't say goodbye, and a part of me believes that means you're coming back."

YEAAA BABYYY CCHAPTER 9!!
Currently obsessed w stray kidsss Bangchan