Page 3 of Pretty When She Breaks
“I KNOW YOU DID THIS!” I screamed as I was forced toward our black sedan. For a moment, I escaped and managed a single step before security caught me again, yanking me back by my shoulders. “TELL ME WHERE HE IS!”
But Father simply turned his back on me, starting up the chapel steps to the farce of a funeral. I was shoved inside the hot car, screaming and kicking, but it was no use. The engine started, and I was whisked away to a world where I was completely alone.
ONE
PRESENT
LAUREL
I finished applying my mascara and stared at my reflection in the mirror, at the person I hated even more than my father.
The Crimson Duchess stared back, her expression cold. She was a woman who wielded her beauty and status for her father’s gain. Who laughed as blood spilled at her feet. Who didn’t even blink at rubbing shoulders with the worst of the wealthy that New Oxford had to offer.
I hated her, but I needed her.
A duchess was an omega who had rejected their own fated mates. Alphas loved to bid on our company, to be the ones we chose even for a night. A duchess’s scent was said to be uniquely captivating.
But my father wouldn’t settle for my being a typical duchess. He’d carved out a starring role for me in his favourite illicit operation—the Blood Well.
It was an underground arena where rutting alphas fought to the delight of the twisted masses. Masses that would placebets, trade drugs, make deals, and drink, pouring their money right into my father’s pockets.
The Duchess Suite at the Blood Well was a place to watch the fights above the common masses; a VIP experience that allowed exclusive guests to enjoy the fights in luxury. To crown the evening off, they would be hosted by a duchess.
Me.
My job was to simper and fawn, to touch and flirt. To get alphas relaxed, and lower their inhibitions so they were amiable in business conversations with my father. And if they impressed him, they’d get to bid on my heats.
I couldn’t keep doing this. Night after night.
For a moment, I imagined screaming, grabbing my hairbrush, and shattering the mirror in front of me. Then I’d pick up the shards and shred every single fucking dress in my closet, rip apart the shoes. Smash the chair into the wall again and again, until I’d destroyed this whole room, and then I’d run and never look back.
My hands trembled.
Control in all things, I reminded myself.
I slowed my breathing and imagined ice in my veins to cool off my rage. I couldn’t afford to lose control, because even after all these years, I was no closer to finding out what had happened to Julius than the day I’d found someone else lying in his coffin.
My calming technique worked.
My scent hadn’t changed, despite my anger.
It hadn’t been affected by my emotions in years. It was too dangerous for alphas like my father to know what I was truly feeling, so my scent was always soothing.
Always calm and docile.
It left my scent somehowemptyto my own nose, like the smiles I was forced to put on in photo shoots.
I took a breath and checked my phone. It was almost time.
Just one more step before starting the evening. I turned and unlocked the top drawer of my dresser, peering down at the rows of sparkling jewelry within. Tonight, I picked emerald earrings, the matching necklace, and a diamond cuff.
Ready, I cracked open the door to the Duchess Suite and took a breath, my heart fluttering at all the crimson.
Blood.
Opulence made from so much blood.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, stepping into the Crimson Duchess persona.
