“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Mina said. “But here’s the thing, Luca. The chip isn’t a fake. It’s one of the originals from the Rhapsody lab. Project number seven. Your project.”

He tapped his chest. “Seven percent. The odds of a trap being set in the original lab are sixty-three percent higher than anywhere else. And the odds of me walking into it anyway?” He stood, pulling on his coat. “Exactly one hundred.”

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.”

“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.”

He stepped out into the storm.

Mina caught his sleeve. “Then why go?”

Certainly. Here’s a short story inspired by the title LuckyDog7

The rain outside thickened. Luca felt the old tug—the quiet hum in his chest that told him the odds were shifting. Seven percent in whose favor, though? That was the question.