The scent of vanilla smoke clung to her like a secret.
"Do it again," Selene said, her voice low and measured. "Slower this time."
The girl on stage trembled slightly. Glitter clung to her collarbone. Her heels wobbled as she dipped forward, hair brushing the black-lit runway. It wasn't nerves. It was the fear of failing Selene Vale.
Selene leaned back in the VIP booth, a glass of chilled rosé in her hand. She didn't drink it. She only held it because empty hands made her feel exposed.
"That was better," she said, nodding once. "But you hesitated. You want to be in the lineup Friday night? You don't hesitate. You perform like it's your last night on earth."
The girl nodded. Too fast and too eager.
Selene waved her off before the desperation clung.
When the curtains closed, she sighed and tapped the rim of her glass. The club was quiet in the daylight. Velvet Vice didn't open until ten, but this was the only time she could breathe. Alone, before the madness. Before the bodies and bills and blood.
"Boss Lady?" a voice called from the entrance.
Selene didn't flinch. She never flinched.
"Back here."
Her manager, Cam, walked in, holding a clipboard and wearing that face she hated—half panic, half reverence. "Shipment came early. And it's heavy."
"How heavy?"
"Twenty bricks. No stamp."
Selene exhaled slowly through her nose.
No stamp meant no origin. No trail. No loyalty.
"Who brought it in?" she asked.
Cam swallowed. "New guy. Eastern accent. Wouldn't give a name."
She stood. Straightened her coat. It was linen, bone white. Immaculate. Just like everything else about her.
"I want him gone."
"You sure? He said he knew—"
"I said gone, Cam."
He didn't argue. No one argued with Selene Vale.
She walked past the bar, past the mirrored walls and velvet ropes. The stage still smelled like sweat and ambition. She went into his office, closed the door and locked it.
Only then did she allow her hands to shake.
Not from fear.
From the ache.
She poured herself another glass. Didn't drink it. Just watched the rosé swirl like liquid blush.
Her phone buzzed.
It was an unknown Number: You're being watched.
She stared at the screen. Then deleted the message.
No one watched her without her knowing.
The soft knock came next.
Not Cam. He never knocked soft.
"Come in," she said.
One of the girls, Honey, peeked in. Platinum blonde. Baby pink lingerie. Pretty in the fake way that made men pay attention.
"Hey Boss Lady. Got a sec?"
Selene nodded.
Honey walked in, chewing her lip. "There's a guy outside. Says he wants to talk business."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Who is he?"
"Didn't say. Drove up in a black Benz. Said his name's… Marcus?"
Her stomach went cold.
"Tell him to wait. Ten minutes. No less."
Honey nodded and left. Selene stood there, frozen. Marcus. That name hadn't crossed her path in five years.
Not since he'd put a bullet in her brother.
She slipped off her coat and reached beneath the desk. Her hand closed around the Glock taped underneath.
If Marcus was back, it wasn't for a drink.
She entered the back corridor, her heels echoing off the tile as she walked. The hallway was slow, only a flickering on the emergency ex -lean was burned by a red bulb. She pressed her hand to her scanner. The door unlocked.
Marcus stood on the street, bent against the wall like he belonged there. Same gold chain, same wolfish smirk.
He looked older now. But not tired. Just colder.
"Boss Lady," he said, eyes raking her like he still had the right.
"You've got five minutes."
He raised both hands. "Just came to talk."
She kept her gun behind her back. "Then talk."
He shrugged. "Word is, you've been making moves. Got your own distribution now. No middlemen. That true?"
"Don't you want to know."
He smiled "Still got that fire."
Selene took one step forward.
"Say what you came to say, Marcus. Before I decide I'm bored."
His smile dropped. "Javier's losing patience. You're stepping on his turf."
"Turf he abandoned when he sold out."
He flinched. But she saw it.
"You're gonna get hurt, Selene," he said, voice low. "This world's not meant for—"
She cut him off.
"Women?"
He didn't answer.
She leaned in close, lips by his ear.
"Tell Javier I'm not afraid of dying. But I'll make damn sure I take him with me."
Then she stepped back.
He didn't follow her.
She walked away like she hadn't just declared war.
Back in her office, she slid the gun back in place. Her reflection in the mirror looked flawless. Cold. Empty.
Exactly how she needed to be.
Cam stepped in again. "Shipment's clean. Lab says high quality. Better than the last three runs."
"Keep it locked up. Rotate the guards. No repeats."
He nodded. "And the lineup for Friday?"
"Cut Honey. Replace her with June."
Cam blinked. "Honey's your top earner."
"June's hungry. Honey's soft. I don't like soft right now."
He didn't argue.
She sat back down, eyes unfocused.
Her phone buzzed again.
It was the unknown number again: He's already inside.
She stared at the words, her pulse spiking.
Cam hadn't seen anything. Honey didn't mention anyone.
She stood quickly, scanned the room.
Yet Nothing.
She checked the cameras.
Playback looped. Glitched.
Someone was in the system.
Someone had already breached her perimeter.
And she didn't know who.
That night, the club opened as usual.
Lights. Music. Sweat. Skin.
Women lined the booths, screaming for their favorites. Selene watched from her perch above it all, a glass wall separating her from the chaos.
She felt nothing.
Until she saw June stumble onstage.
Not the usual stumble.
A collapse.
She raced down. Pushed through the crowd.
June was on the floor, gasping. Eyes wide, hand clutching her throat.
Selene knelt beside her, heart pounding.
"What did you take?" she snapped.
June's lips moved. But no sound came out.
Her pulse was weak.
Selene grabbed her bag. Pulled out a small vial of adrenaline.
She injected it into June's thigh. Prayed it was enough.
Cam appeared beside her.
"She's been clean all month," he said. "Tested her last week."
Selene looked up.
The lights above the stage flickered. Just once.
Then her phone buzzed again.
It was the unknown number: Told you. Already inside.
Her blood ran cold.
She stood slowly. Eyes scanning the floor. The walls. The booths.
Whoever it was—they weren't coming for her drugs.
They were coming for her heart.
And she didn't know who she'd given it to.
Not yet.
But he was watching.
Waiting.
And she'd already let him too close.