Crown Of Blood And Lies

Chapter 1: The Break In

{ Avina }

There is a dark estate that sits behind stone walls. Inside is a tempest that rules and defies all.

Be afraid...Obey...and bow to the Blood King.

The alarm shrieked through my bedroom at 6:00 AM—not my usual wake-up call, but the piercing wail of the shop's security system cutting through the darkness was like a blade.

I bolted upright, heart already hammering. For a moment my sleepy mind couldn't tell if it was real or not, still distracted by the dream I was having. As the shriek continued though, reality kicked in, causing me to fumble for my phone on the nightstand. The screen's harsh light burned my eyes as I squinted at the notification:

MOTION DETECTED - FRONT ENTRANCE

GLASS BREAK SENSOR TRIGGERED

Someone was in my shop.

"Shit." The word tore from my throat as I threw off the covers and lunged for my clothes. My parents' voices drifted from down the hall—groggy, confused questions I didn't have time to answer. I yanked on jeans, grabbed the first shirt my hands found, shoved my feet into boots without bothering to tie them.

"Avina? What's happening?" My mother appeared in the doorway, her omega instincts already sensing danger.

"The shop. Someone broke in." I snatched my keys from the dresser, my jacket from the chair. "I'm going."

"Wait, don't be ra—"

"No time." I was already moving, taking the stairs two at a time. My father's voice joined my mother's behind me, both calling for me to stop, to wait, to be careful. But the shop was everything.

And someone was violating it.

The night air hit me like a slap as I burst through the front door. My car sat in the driveway, and I was behind the wheel before my conscious mind caught up with my body. Engine roaring to life. Headlights cutting through the darkness. Gravel spraying as I peeled out onto the empty road.

The streets were dead at this hour—no traffic, no witnesses, just me and the predawn darkness and the fury burning in my chest. My hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles ache. The speedometer climbed. Thirty. Forty. Fifty on roads meant for forty-five.

Who the hell breaks into a shop in Blood King territory?

Someone desperate. Someone stupid. Someone who thought a woman running a modest store would be an easy target.

They were about to learn otherwise.

My brother's voice echoed in my memory—Jace, teaching me to assess threats, to think tactically even when adrenaline screamed at me to just react.

"Never go in blind, Vi. Always know what you're walking into. Always have an exit."

I forced myself to breathe. To think. The security system had motion sensors and glass-break detectors, but no cameras—we couldn't afford the upgrade. So I had no idea what I was driving into. One person? Multiple? Armed? Just some desperate refugee looking for food, or something worse?

The war had shattered so many lives. Turned the western territories into a nightmare under Klaus the Blood Viper's brutal rule. The territorial split had severed trade routes, destroyed the farmland that used to feed us, and left the eastern territories scrambling for resources. People were starving. Desperate. And desperate people did desperate things.

But this shop—this shop was ours. My parents had scraped together everything they had to build it, two omegas defying a system designed to keep them at the bottom. They'd rescued me as an abandoned infant, raised me despite barely being able to feed themselves and their biological son, let alone a newborn with no blood claim to their protection. They'd given me everything.

I wasn't letting anyone take it.

The capital's streets blurred past. Empty storefronts. Darkened windows. The occasional stray slinking through shadows. In the distance, barely visible against the night sky, the royal estate loomed—iron gates and stone walls and secrets where our king lived. Klaus' rival...the Blood King. That inexplicable pull tugged at my chest even now, even with fury and fear flooding my system. My instincts stirred restlessly beneath my skin, responding to something I couldn't name.

I shoved the feeling down. Not now. Not when someone was tearing apart everything my family had built.

The shop came into view three blocks out. My headlights caught the damage immediately—the front window, shattered. Glass glittering on the sidewalk like scattered diamonds. The door hung open.

My foot slammed the brake. The car screeched to a halt half a block away, and I killed the engine, plunging myself into silence broken only by my ragged breathing and the thundering of my pulse in my ears.

Assess. Think. Don't be stupid.

I scanned the street. No other vehicles. No movement I could see. The shop's interior was dark—whoever had broken in either hadn't turned on the lights or had already left.

My phone buzzed.

Mom: Please be careful. Please wait for help.

I typed back quickly: I'm fine. Assessing now.

Then I slipped out of the car, easing the door shut as quietly as possible. My boots crunched on broken glass as I approached. The damage was worse up close—the entire front window blown in, display items scattered across the floor inside. Produce bins overturned. The register... I couldn't see the register from here.

My claws slid free instinctively, a partial shift I'd learned to control. Not a full transformation—I couldn't manage that yet—but enough to defend myself if needed. My senses heightened, picking up scents on the night air.

Blood. Sweat. Fear.

And something else. Something that made the hair on my arms and back of my neck stand up straight.

Rogue.

The scent was unmistakable—the sour, unwashed smell of someone who'd been living rough, mixed with the acrid tang of desperation and violence. Not just a hungry refugee. Someone dangerous.

I crept closer to the broken window, staying low, using the door frame for cover. Jace's training kicked in automatically: check corners, watch for movement, listen for breathing. The shop was small enough that I could see most of the interior from here. Scattered goods. The register—thank the Goddess—still closed, though someone had clearly tried to pry it open.

And there, near the back, a figure.

Hunched over. Rifling through the storage area where I kept the day-old bread and extra supplies. Male, from the build. Tall. Wearing torn, filthy clothes that might have been decent once. His movements were jerky, frantic—the movements of someone high on adrenaline or something worse.

He hadn't noticed me yet.

My mind raced through options. Call for help? The Ashmere Elite enforced the law, no violence inside the capital, but they wouldn't exactly rush to help omega-run shops. Especially when dawn was now just starting to peek over the horizon. By the time anyone arrived, this bastard could clean out everything we had.

Confront him? Risky. I had Jace's training, but he was bigger, possibly armed, definitely desperate enough to break into a shop at 6 AM. Not to mention he most likely could fully transform which I couldn't.

But this was my shop. My parents' legacy. The one thing we had that was ours.

The decision crystallized in my chest, sharp and certain.

I wasn't running. I wasn't hiding. And I sure as hell wasn't letting some rogue destroy what my family had built.

I straightened, stepping through the broken doorway. Glass crunched under my boots—loud in the silence. The figure's head snapped up, and I got my first clear look at him.

Gaunt face. Hollow eyes. Scars crisscrossing his exposed forearms. His hand lashed out—my stomach dropped as I caught him picking something up—a knife. Not a large one, but enough to do damage.

"Shop's closed," I said, keeping my voice level despite the adrenaline screaming through my veins. My claws caught the faint light from the street, and I let him see them. Let him see that I wasn't some helpless omega he could intimidate.

His eyes widened. Then narrowed. "You're alone."

"Am I?" I tilted my head. "Security system's already alerted the Ashmere. They'll be here any minute."

A lie. But a convincing one, judging by the way his grip tightened on the knife.

"I just need food," he said, but his stance was aggressive, coiled. "Just let me take what I need and I'll go."

"You broke my window. Ruined my displays. Tried to rob my register." My voice hardened. "You're not taking anything."

"I'm not asking, girl." He took a step forward.

I let the alpha dominance I usually kept buried rise to the surface, flooding the space between us with unmistakable authority. His step faltered. Confusion flickered across his face—an omega-run shop, but alpha power radiating from the woman in front of him.

"Neither am I," I said softly. Dangerously. "Leave. Now. Before this gets worse for you."

For a heartbeat, we stood frozen. Him calculating whether he could take me. Me calculating whether I could stop him without getting stabbed. Outside, the sun began to light up the world now with each passing minute.

Then—movement outside. Voices. The rogue's head whipped toward the broken window, and I saw my opening. I lunged.

Not to attack—to position myself between him and the door. Cutting off his escape route. Forcing him to make a choice: fight an alpha female, or find another way out.

He chose the latter. With a snarl, he bolted toward the back of the shop, toward the storage room and the rear exit I knew was locked. I heard him slam into it, curse, then the sound of splintering wood as he kicked it open.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the streets.

I stood there, claws still extended, every muscle coiled and ready. The adrenaline wouldn't fade. My hands shook. But the shop—damaged, violated, but still standing—was secure.