1. Elena

Funerals are supposedto be rainy, cold, and gloomy.

Yet, the Nevada sun beats brutally against my black dress as I watch them lower my father into the ground. He wasn't supposed to leave me so soon.

I sniffle, and my brother Anthony nudges my arm. His words from earlier ringing through my head. With pàpa gone, people are going to want to take our family down. We can't show any weakness, Elena. Not even you.

Not even me, because I was Pàpa's exception for everything. He wasn't soft towards anyone, except for me. He didn't break his rules for anyone, except for me. He would never break tradition for anyone, except for me.

Anthony always hated how differently we were raised. I was the light of my pàpa's life, and Anthony's purpose was always to take over the family business. Our father was hard on him, never showing Anthony how much he actually loved him. But he openly loved me, allowing me a lot of flexibility, considering I'm both an Omega and his only daughter.

He could have married me off. Any of the families in the country or internationally would happily trade me for an alliance. Yet, he didn't. He let me go to the hospital for my heats to be sedated, to give me time, to give me a choice. My designation was just something I had to deal with, not who I was in his eyes. He always let me choose. And now he's gone. And the feeling of having a choice has died with him.

"Go sit in the fucking car if you can't pull yourself together," Anthony angrily whispers in my ear, and it makes me cry even harder.

I'm strong, and while my pàpa made a lot of concessions for me, I was still a Don's daughter. I've seen a lot of shit, been through a lot of shit. I wasn't weak, but I still had emotions. Crying wasn't weak, men just can't fathom the concept of being vulnerable.

I swiftly move away from his side, making my way to the black sedan. Logan, my personal bodyguard for the evening, follows close behind me.

"You know he didn't mean it, princess," he says softly.

"Yes, he did," I reply, and Logan looks away. We both know his reassurance was a lie. Anthony means every harsh word he says, we just have to deal with it.

Logan has been loyal to our family since he met Anthony and was brought into the fold a few years ago. It happened quickly, but he swiftly worked up the ranks in the Amante household, even if he finds himself on Omega duty far more often than I'm sure he would like. Though he doesn't complain, he still doesn't make a move like I wish he would.

While my brother has respect for him, Anthony sees Logan as a threat.

Logan is more handsome than Anthony, people like him more, and they respect him without Logan needing to be a completely heartless asshole. Although I'm not even sure if Logan is Italian—actually I'm pretty positive he isn't. An outsider could never take over the family, but that doesn't mean that one couldn't burn it to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Elena," Logan says as we approach the vehicle.

"He's gone, Logan. He's really gone," I croak out.

Logan tugs the door open, and I funnel in, his large Alpha frame crowding in behind me. He tugs me against his chest, and I grab onto the lapels of his jacket, inhaling his rich cedarwood scent.

I sob against his expensive suit as he cradles the back of my head, letting me cry it out. His large hand rubs circles on my back, and he just sits there, not judging me. He doesn't tell me to suck it up or stop crying, he just lets me get out all this angry sadness I can no longer hold in.

He's always there for me. Always my shoulder to cry on, the person I can tell things to. I wish it was more because he wanted me, not because he's paid to look out for me. While the Alpha may touch me, scent mark me, and protect me, he's never crossed that line.

God, do I wish he would.

"What am I going to do?" I ask Logan, resting my head against his chest.

"I'll always take care of you. Always."

"Don't you want more than to just be my bodyguard for the rest of your life?" I ask, pulling away from his body.

Logan uses the pad of his thumbs to help me wipe at my makeup. His bright blue eyes look glossy with his own emotion as he gazes down at me. He's so attractive, just the type of Alpha I'd always dreamed of. It's probably so cliche and Sigmund Freud of me to want someone who was like my father—rough around the edges, but only soft for me, which Logan has always been.

I've seen him have to physically hurt people, seen how angry he can get when my safety is on the line. But when it's just us? I feel cared for and cherished in a way I haven't felt before. I just wish he felt the same. There's no way in hell I'd ever be the first to make a move, and right now, when I'm wrapped in his comfort, I don't understand why I'm not good enough.

"Let's talk more later. Today has been a hard day," Logan suggests, and I stare into his pretty eyes.

"It's not going to be the same without him."

"He was a great man. I'll miss him too."

Logan keeps rubbing my leg, and all I want to do is perch on his lap and sit there for hours while I wallow in misery. The worst part is, even if he doesn't feel anything romantic towards me, he would let me. It always boils down to his Alpha instincts and wanting to protect me as an Omega.

"Go out there and show that prick how strong you really are," he encourages, and it makes me smile.

"You probably shouldn't call the new boss a prick."

"You wouldn't tell on me, would you, princess?"

I love it when he jokes with me, and the fact that we have secrets with one another. Logan knows everything about me. On the other hand, I have to pry details about his past from him, but he'll give me a crumb every now and then.

"Your secrets are always safe with me."

He looks at me adoringly, and maybe it's years of him being at my side or wanting comfort during this time, but I cup his jaw and stare right back. All it would take for me to give in would be for him to lean forward and place his lips against mine—I'd fold for him immediately.

He grabs my wrist and moves my hand from his face. Of course, he does. Because I'm not supposed to be with someone like him, I'm supposed to be with someone in the life, someone considered suitable by my family.

I'm used to this life, surrounded by powerful men. I can't imagine anything different. But who I love should still be on my terms. I refuse to be married off to the first pack who wants an alliance with my family. My life is my own and no one else"s.

"We can talk about this later, okay?"

I look away and swallow, nodding my head.

"Do you want to go back to the service?" he asks, and I nod my head.

My hands run over my face to make sure I don't look a mess, and Logan gives me a nod. The soft expression he gave me earlier is gone as his hard shell returns.

Of course, Logan would never cross the line of being anything more than a protector. It would be disrespectful to my family if he didn't ask my father's—brother's—permission first. Not that it would be granted, why let me run away with a footsoldier when my Omega status can do so much more for the family?

He opens the door to the car, holding out an arm and helping me out of the vehicle as we head toward the proceedings once again.

"You're brave and strong. Hold your head high and let everyone here know you're still an Amante," Logan whispers, his hand grazing my lower back before walking away to stand by my brother.

I don't read into the small touch, but maybe I should. My bodyguard glances back at me with a fierce protectiveness in his eyes. Maybe I should tell him I'm attracted to him and have a serious crush? If he doesn't reciprocate, they can take him off my detail so I don't have to constantly scent him and stare at his pretty face.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling uncomfortable standing on my own. The ceremony is over, but multiple people are standing around and speaking to one another. I'm not sure where I fit in now.

I was usually at my father's side, his grand achievement, the daughter he loved to show off.

Now, I'm the sister of the newly appointed Don, who, without a question, views me as a problem to be dealt with. I've had moments where I felt lonely before; being a part of this family has always been a lonely existence. My options for friends have always been limited, but right now, I feel completely lost.

Who am I if I'm not Don Amante's daughter?

I'm so lost in my own spiral that I hardly notice someone approaching me. She doesn't face me when she speaks but stands at my side. She has on a simple black A-line dress and a black hat with dark netting covering her face.

She lights a cigarette, and I tilt my head to appraise her. It's my father's "friend", Carmen. Apparently, once you hit a certain age, boyfriend and girlfriend become terms that are no longer used. I suppose they didn't truly have a relationship, either. My pàpa bought her things, and she kept him happy. Which I always approved of. My pàpa was a shell of a man after my mother passed away. I don't know the true nature of his and Carmen's relationship, but the fact that she's here shows that she cared for him to some degree.

She opens her clutch while holding her cigarette between two fingers and pulls out a single black card. It almost looks like a metallic playing card. It's black and lined with red foil, and she hands it to me.

"If you find yourself in need of a new home," she says calmly.

I take it, and she elbows me in the arm, a subtle way of telling me to hide it and to keep my mouth shut.

"Thank you," I reply softly, not even having time to really read anything on the card.

"I loved your pàpa in the only way I could ever love someone. He expected to live quite longer, you know. He never anticipated Anthony would take over while you were still unbonded," Carmen says, and I nod.

I never expected it either.

It's not even like my father died because he was shot by a rival or got sent to prison. His heart simply gave out—a heart attack—something none of us saw coming; that's what ripped him away from me.

"Being a woman in their world, especially an Omega, these men may make you feel like you don't hold the power. But I promise you, sweet girl, you hold all the power within you. Never feel guilty for using your power to get what you want," she encourages, raising the cigarette to her lips and walking away, alone, out of the cemetery.

My brother spots me from where he's speaking to his consigliere before walking in my direction. Anthony and I don't look that much alike. He took after our pápa with his dark hair and eyes and designating as an Alpha, just as my pàpa was. While I look like our mother did, blonde, bright blue eyes, and an Omega. Beyond our appearance, despite being family, there isn't a closeness between us. If anything, it feels like we're worlds apart. I'm not sure if I have our pàpa, or ourselves, to blame, but I know I'm regretting the distance between us at this moment.

Pàpa was my shield, the person who kept me safe. The way Anthony is treating me only proves that I only have myself to rely on moving forward.

"Let's go," he demands, grabbing my arm and ushering me towards the sedan so that the funeral procession can begin.

The wake is being held at our home, and at least I'll have somewhere to hide if—God forbid—I feel a wink of fucking emotion over the passing of our father.

Logan and Niccolo join us in the same sedan, and we sit in silence. My brother is on his phone while I just try to make myself as small as possible, waiting to be released from the overwhelming Alpha scents in the vehicle.

I like Logan's scent, but my brother smells like bitter herbal tea, and Niccolo smells like coffee beans. Their three scents combined are enough to make me want to plug my nose. Logan's hand twitches next to mine, and I wonder if he knows how much I'm struggling to be in this car right now. I want to scream.

"What are my meetings for tomorrow?" Anthony asks casually.

I tighten my lips and look out the window, trying to hold back from crying again. He doesn't care that Pàpa's dead, he only cares that he's in charge of the family now. It's what he always wanted. Even if he holds resentment for not having control of his life, he's always wanted to be in charge.

"Lunch at the Wynn with Seamus," Niccolo replies and clicks through his phone. "Then dinner with Natasha."

I roll my eyes and pray that he can't see it in the window's reflection. Natasha is the Beta daughter of the other major Italian family in Vegas, the Barbieri family. It's clear that Anthony is only entertaining this relationship with her because he wants to merge the families and have complete control. Then, he only has the Irish and Russians to deal with.

My father has already told him it would be a poor idea, that the Barbieri family probably wants the same thing, to combine our houses and take control. But Anthony, being who he is, didn't agree.

To be honest, it serves him right, having to spend the rest of his life with someone like Natasha if he goes down that road. She's spoiled, demanding, and there's no way my brother would be her only lover.

Part of me wants to ask why he didn't invite her to the wake, but I keep my mouth shut. It's not worth a fight right now, and I don't need another callous person who didn't give a shit about my pàpa around me right now.

The driver opens the gate to our home, and the procession follows us up the long driveway. After we all park, the driver opens the back door and my brother, Niccolo, and Logan step out. Logan notably does not help me out of the vehicle with my brother around.

Our home is large, well-secured, and fairly modern. It's tucked away higher up the mountains for security reasons, but it's still close enough to old and new Vegas to run operations out of.

The wake is catered, and there are beautiful flowers everywhere. My father would have fucking hated it.

Without him here, I realize that no one pays attention to me, and I decide to go to the one place where I can really feel like I'm with him. His office.

It still smells like his Toscanello cigars, and the whiskey glass on his desk is still half full. I run my fingers along the spines of the books on his bookcase, engraving this scent in my memory forever. I'm sure Anthony is going to change everything about this room as soon as he possibly can.

It's the only room in the house that truly feels like Pàpa, with the old Italian furniture and the custom artwork his sister, Cara, painted before she passed. Maybe Anthony will let me keep those. They were one of my father's most prized possessions. I round his desk, touching the sterling silver frame that houses a picture of him and me on the day I graduated from surgical tech school. I was the only Omega in the program, and I had a bodyguard accompany me to every class, but it was still a serious accomplishment. I enrolled knowing that I'd never actually work in a real hospital, but mob doctors have a serious issue finding help that they can trust. I've learned a lot working under Dr.Conti the last few years, and it's all because my pàpa believed in me. I don't know many daughters in the life who have a secondary education or get to actually help in the family business.

There are no photos of Anthony, and it sinks in deeper that his hatred of me is valid. But it wasn't my fault.

There's nothing to be done now.

Loud footsteps ricochet down the hall, and I'm not sure why my first instinct is to hide, but I do. Crawling on the floor, my knees protest as I shift my body under the desk. I cover my mouth with my hands, and I'm glad I hid when the office door opens and shuts.

I'd know Anthony's voice anywhere.

"She'd be perfect for your sons. We can unite our families, and solidify the partnership my father was creating," Anthony says.

I expect a voice to reply, but there isn't one. He must be on the phone.

"Thank you for your condolences." There's a pause until Anthony speaks again. "You understand that Elena is the only Omega within the families, and she has never gone through a heat with a pack."

My heart sinks, and I will myself to breathe evenly while making sure my scent doesn't permeate through my deodorizers. The last thing I need is for him to know I'm here and listening to the whole conversation. I fucking knew this was going to happen, that Anthony would take the first opportunity he could to sell me off. But to talk to a stranger about my heats is disgusting. I feel like property, no better than livestock. It sinks in that I mean nothing to him.

"We can arrange a meeting with your sons. If all goes well, she can immediately go to live with you on your estate."

Another long pause as my heart feels like it's being ripped out of my chest and stomped on by my brother.

"Of course, as I promised. I'm not my father, and I'm just doing what should have been done years ago. I'm sure that this alliance will be beneficial to all parties involved."

My heart thunders in my ears and my vision darkens around the edges of my sight as I try to not have a panic attack, or crawl out from under this desk to tear my brother apart. Not that I could; Anthony is very different from my pàpa, I don't think he would second guess raising a hand to me.

My only value to him is as a bargaining chip. I expected this, but it still doesn't make it hurt any less. What could I have done differently? Is there any universe where Anthony and I are truly siblings, where he doesn't hate me?

It doesn't matter, because in this one he wants to sell me off for his own gain. I refuse to be used. This is my body, my life. This should be my decision. My father always told me I had a choice. I suppose maybe that's the issue—Anthony was never going to let me make that choice. He was born and bred to take over the empire. I hate that I can still have empathy for him when he has absolutely none for me.

Anthony ends the call but doesn't leave the room. I pray that he doesn't round the desk and attempt to sit, only to find me hiding here. The clank of crystal against wood makes me jolt, but fortunately, I don't make a noise as he sighs and leaves the room.

I stay under the table, not getting up as tears begin to flow down my face. I mourn my pàpa, the life I had, and the future that's being ripped away from me. I pull my purse into my lap, gathering some tissues to clean myself up with, when my fingers graze the sharp metallic card Carmen handed to me.

I pull it out and flip it over to read the opposite side.

The name and phone number are written in bright red foil: Travis McConell, General Manager, 702-683-9831. The address is right on the boulevard, and I shake my head, tapping the card against my forehead before pulling out my phone to Google the address.

The website is fancy, and the description goes on about how it's a luxurious club for members only, or by invitation of current members. It's called the High Roller. There are no pictures of women on the screen, but there is a promise that they have the most beautiful Omegas in the country working at the facility.

It's a sex club?

No, it's a high end fucking brothel. This is Carmen's suggestion for me? This is where she thinks I'd be better off instead of beside my brother, or being shipped off to some pack who won't even love me.

I've seen how arranged marriages work in this lifestyle, they're sad and lifeless. I don't want that for myself. I don't want to be confined in a nest and used for breeding purposes alone. Many of these men aren't faithful, and I can't even think about some of the abuse that happens behind closed doors. I'm not against staying in the life—it's all I know, after all—but it should be my choice. Who I decide to bond and spend the rest of my life with shouldn't be in the hands of a man who barely knows me, let alone dislikes me.

I'm not a prude, not by any means. But am I seriously considering going to work at a club where I might have to do God knows what over being married off to some strange pack?

I absolutely am.

I'd rather enjoy myself, and make money while getting off than ever be used as a bargaining chip. I'm Matteo Amante's daughter, and I think it's about time I learn what that truly means.