|work|: Luckydog7

Mina pulled out a second chip. Same black. Same silver seven. But this one had a crack running through its center. “Then tomorrow, someone else uses your luck to empty the Grand Verance Bank. And you get the blame anyway.”

“Probably.”

Luca’s thumb traced the rim of his bowl. Seven percent wasn’t much against a setup. But it was enough to sense a trap. “Who’s framing me?” luckydog7

“And if I don’t?”

“They’re calling you a ghost again,” she said, sliding a folded paper across the table. It was a casino chip—black, with a silver ‘7’ etched into its face. “This showed up in the evidence locker last week. It’s from the Celeste Tower job.” Mina pulled out a second chip