Page 207 of Roulette Rodeo
The silence stretches between us, but I can tell he's not done. There's something else, something worse.
"All sources have pulled out," he finally says, the words falling like stones into still water. "Every single one. By morning, Crimson will be out of business. The licenses are being revoked,the building's being seized for 'investigation,' and the FBI has frozen all associated accounts pending a forensic audit."
I take another sip of whiskey, letting it burn away the scream building in my throat.
"There's more," he continues, and I can hear him shifting nervously. "A new agency opened yesterday. Crimson Collateral."
The name hits like a slap. My brand, twisted into something else.
"It's not a club exactly. Seems to be a new fighting venue for omegas. Self-defense training that turns into entertainment, from what we can tell. Clean, legal, completely above board. They're taking over the entire east section of the Strip. The organizer is some multimillionaire omega—looks like a vintage pinup model but apparently has connections to every major family from here to New York."
"Who?" The word comes out rough.
"No idea where she came from or what pack she's serving, but no one can touch her. The Italians are backing her. The Irish too. Even the fucking Yakuza sent flowers for her grand opening. So... we're out of luck."
He pauses, and I can hear him gathering courage for what comes next.
"Let this be the last call between us, Sir. I resign. Good luck with your next endeavor."
The line goes dead.
I lean back in my chair, taking another deep breath that does nothing to calm the rage building in my chest. Twenty years. Twenty fucking years of building this empire, of being untouchable, of owning this city's darkest desires.
Gone. In less than a week, it's all gone.
I finish the whiskey in one long pull, then hurl the crystal glass across the room. It shatters against the wall in an explosionof fragments that catch the light like falling stars. The sound is satisfying for about two seconds before the silence returns, heavier than before.
I drop my head into my hands, trying to think through the alcohol haze that's starting to creep in. There has to be a move left, some play I haven't considered?—
Slow, deliberate clapping breaks through my spiraling thoughts.
My head snaps up, and there she is.
Red.
Sitting in the chair across from my desk like she's been there all along. She's wearing that costume from the auction night—crimson silk and jewels that catch the light with every movement. But this time, there's no fear in her posture, no carefully calculated submission. She's lounging like a queen on a throne, continuing her slow applause with a smile that could cut glass.
"Wow," she says, voice dripping with false admiration. "What a grand performance. I really felt the burning rage. The passion. The complete devastation of a man watching his world burn."
I blink hard, trying to focus through the whiskey and exhaustion. She shouldn't be here. Can't be here. The building's locked down, security everywhere?—
"What are you doing here?" I manage, trying to inject authority into my voice but hearing it come out slurred around the edges.
She tilts her head, considering. "I just wanted a front row seat to your downfall. Nothing more, nothing less. Call it closure. Or maybe just petty satisfaction. I'm not above admitting I enjoy watching karma work."
A laugh escapes me, low and bitter. "You think you've ended me? Pulled my connections because you made a few friends inthat small town of yours? Threw around some dollar bills? Made the perfect bid to pull my South African contact away?"
I lean forward, trying to look menacing despite the way the room is starting to tilt slightly.
"You haven't outsmarted me, Red. I'm still the winner here. Ready to take your king in this game of chess we're playing."
Her laughter rings out, bright and genuine, and somehow that's worse than any threat she could make.
"Well, ain't that funny," she says, uncrossing her legs slowly, deliberately. "This only started because you tried to take away the queen. Me. You see..." She pauses, examining her nails with affected casualness. "My men didn't really like that. Sure, burn the farmhouse, that's property. Things can be rebuilt. But since I almost died and stressed them out?"
She looks up, and her eyes are hard as garnets.
"I'm grounded. Which isn't that big of a deal because I'm going into heat any day now, and that's going to be a rather pleasurable experience. Full of orgasms and bonding and all those things you tried to prevent."
