Page 2 of Roulette Rodeo
Three years since my father had sat across from Victor Marnay at a poker table, drunk on whiskey and false confidence, betting money he didn't have.
Three years since he'd offered his unmated omega daughter as collateral, so sure his hand would win.
Three years since I'd been dragged from my bed in the middle of the night, still in my pajamas, to learn that my father had gambled away my freedom on a pair of twos.
Guess you could say I have Daddy issues.
The Crimson Roulette was Vegas's dirty secret, hidden in plain sight.
On the surface, it was just another high-end casino catering to wealthy alphas with money to burn. Beneath the neon and velvet lurked something darker—a carefully orchestrated trafficking ring that dealt in unmated omegas.
We weren't sold outright; that would be too obvious, illegal even for Vegas's shadowy underbelly.
Instead, we were "employed" as hostesses, dancers, and dealers. Our contracts iron-clad, our movements monitored, our heats suppressed to keep us compliant, and our scents just muted enough to entice without sending alphas into rut.
The smart ones, the ones who played by Marnay's rules and earned their keep, might eventually buy their freedom. The contract price was set at a million dollars—might as well have been a billion for most of us. The pretty ones who couldn't cut it, the ones who fought too hard or not hard enough, they disappeared to private auctions where alphas with particular tastes paid premium prices for unwilling omegas.
I'd survived by being exactly what they wanted:beautiful enough to display, smart enough to engage the high rollers in conversation, broken enough to never truly fight back.
My scent was my saving grace and my chain—too valuable to sell off, too intoxicating to ever let go.
But I had something the others didn't know about.
Behind the loose vent grate in the staff bathroom, wrapped in plastic and hidden in an old compact case, was my escape fund. Every tip I could skim, every "bonus" from grateful alphas who thought they were being generous, every dollar I could save from the meager allowance they gave us for "personal items"—it all went into that compact. After three years, I had almost eight thousand dollars. Not enough to run, not yet, but enough to hope.
I applied the deep red lipstick they required—'Roulette Red,' specially made to match the casino's signature color.
The other girls chattered as they prepared, gossiping about which alphas tipped best, which ones had wandering hands, which cocktails to recommend for bigger commissions.
Normal conversations for an abnormal life.
"Did you hear about Cynthia?" Tanya whispered, gluing on false eyelashes with practiced precision. "She tried to palm a chip from the craps table. They caught her on camera."
"Where is she now?" Nicole asked, though we all knew the answer.
"Auction house. Marnay doesn't tolerate stealing." Tanya's voice dropped lower. "Heard she went for thirty grand to some pack in Texas."
Thirty thousand dollars for a life…
I touched up my lipstick, keeping my expression neutral.
Cynthia had been here six months, still had hope in her eyes, believing she could outsmart the system.
The system always won.
"Five minutes, ladies!" The floor manager's voice boomed through the dressing room.
I stood, smoothing down the crimson corset dress that hugged every curve, the one that made me look like a vintage casino chip come to life. The outfit was another privilege—custom-fitted, higher-quality fabric, designed to showcase without revealing too much. Marnay understood that mystery sold better than exposure.
My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way to the high roller suite, each step a reminder of what I'd become.
Hostess. Decoration. Bait.
The other omegas dispersed to their stations, painting smiles on their faces that never reached their eyes.
We were all actresses in Marnay's twisted play, performing for our survival every night.
The Crimson Roulette hummed with its usual energy—slot machines singing their electronic songs, dice clattering across felt tables, cards shuffling in dealers' hands.
