Chapter 4

Jasmine's POV

I stared at the uniform in my hands, feeling my stomach drop.

The top was practically obscene—a deep V that would show everything if I so much as leaned forward. The shorts were worse, cut so high they'd ride up with every step. This wasn't a uniform. This was an invitation.

"Frank, this is too much," I started.

"You don't get to have opinions, Jasmine." Frank's voice was sharp. "You know how many shifts you've missed this month? Three. I only keep you around because your sales numbers are decent. If you want to keep this job, put on the damn uniform and get to work."

My throat tightened. Those three shifts—I'd taken Lily to the emergency room twice, and once to see Elijah when her fever wouldn't break. But Frank didn't care about that. Nobody did.

I was a rogue. No pack would take me in, no respectable establishment would hire me. The Borderlands were the only place where people like me could survive, and even here, we had no leverage. No rights. No voice.

"Yes, sir," I said quietly.

I followed Marta and the other girls into the cramped changing room. The space immediately filled with excited chatter.

"Did you see the cut on this?" One of the regulars—a she-wolf named Cara—was already stripping down, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'm pulling this neckline down even further. If the Alpha King notices me..."

"I heard he's gorgeous," another girl chimed in. "And ruthless. The kind of Alpha who knows exactly what he wants."

"Imagine spending a night with him." Cara laughed, adjusting her top to expose as much cleavage as possible. "That's worth more than a year of tips."

I changed in silence, trying to make the uniform as modest as possible. It was a losing battle.

My mind kept drifting. Six years since I'd last felt anything for anyone. Since Dominic, there had been no one. Elijah was kind, gentle, everything a woman should want—but I felt nothing. The space where my heart used to be had sealed itself shut the night I rejected my mate.

"Look at Miss High-and-Mighty over there." Cara's voice cut through my thoughts. "Too good to be excited like the rest of us?"

I ignored her.

"I'm talking to you, Jasmine." She stepped closer. "You always act so pure, like you're better than us. But you work here just like we do. The only difference is we're honest about it."

"I'm not judging anyone," I said evenly. "We're all just trying to survive."

"Right. Survive." Cara's smile was mean. "Is that what you call flirting with every drunk who walks in here? At least we're upfront about what we're selling."

Before I could respond, Frank's voice boomed from outside. "Girls! VIPs are here! Get your asses to the Diamond Room. Now!"

The others rushed out in a flurry of perfume and nervous giggles. I hung back, taking a breath.

Then I walked out.

The hallway leading to the Diamond Room felt longer than usual. I could hear voices inside—deep, masculine, the kind of laughter that came with power and money.

I pushed open the door.

The room was exactly what I expected. Smoke hung in the air despite the ventilation. Expensive bottles lined the table. Men in tailored suits lounged on leather sofas, their attention divided between conversation and the girls who were already circling like sharks.

But none of that registered.

Because the moment I stepped inside, my eyes found him.

He sat on the center sofa, one arm draped casually along the back, legs spread in a way that commanded space. His suit was dark and perfectly cut, the kind of tailoring that whispered wealth. His face—

Every cell in my body went cold.

I knew those eyes. I knew the exact shade of amber, the way they darkened when he was angry, the way they'd once looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Dominic.

Even from across the room, his presence was crushing.

"—of course, we're honored to host you," one of the local pack leaders was saying, practically groveling. "The Borderlands have needed strong leadership for years. Your reputation precedes you. Alpha Dominic."

My breath caught.

No.

No, it couldn't be—

The boy I'd rejected six years ago. The boy who'd fought for scraps and bled in underground rings just to afford a bouquet of flowers.

And now he was the Alpha King.

"They say you cleaned out three rogue territories in under a month," another Alpha chimed in. "Vampires too. Ruthless efficiency."

"I do what's necessary." He took a sip of whiskey, and the movement was so familiar it made my chest ache.

The other girls were already moving in, touching arms, leaning close, offering drinks. He ignored all of them.

His gaze never left me.

"You." His voice cut through the noise. Everyone went quiet. "Come here."

I couldn't move. My legs felt like lead.

"Your Majesty has excellent taste," Cara purred, shooting me a venomous look. "But Jasmine's a bit... reserved. I'd be happy to—"

"I said her." The command in his voice left no room for argument.

I forced myself to walk forward. Each step felt like moving through water. When I reached the sofa, I couldn't look at him directly.

"Your Majesty," I managed.

He leaned back, studying me like I was something mildly interesting. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a card.

My card.

The one I'd drunkenly given him in the car last night.

"You told me to come find you," he said. His voice was conversational, almost pleasant. But his eyes were ice. "So here I am."

Someone laughed. The sound felt very far away.

I was drowning. The past and present were colliding, and I couldn't breathe.

"Well?" His eyebrow arched. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"