Chapter 3 BLACK EMPIRE
Jasmine
I could feel his eyes on me long before I reached the table.
They followed every movement I made as I set his plate down, heavy with grease and heat, the scent of fried food clinging to my clothes no matter how many times I washed them.
I kept my gaze trained on the golden edge of the plate, on the hand of the wine glass, on anything that wasn’t him. Men like him liked to be seen, liked to feel important, liked the illusion that they were in control.
It wasn’t the first time I had to pretend.
Pretend I was soft.
Pretend I was clueless.
Pretend I was harmless.
Being tender, being quiet, being just a little shy—it was what men like him needed. It kept them comfortable. It kept them spending money. And it kept them coming back to eat here, night after night, leaving tips that were never quite generous enough but still necessary.
When I finally lifted my eyes to meet his gaze, I offered him a small smile—measured, practiced, just enough to seem sincere. His lips curved upward in response, slow and satisfied, like he’d won something.
I turned away before he could say anything, adding a subtle sway to my hips as I walked off. Another performance complete.
By the time my shift ended, my feet ached, my head throbbed, and my chest felt painfully hollow.
Now, I walked down the dark, lonely alley behind the restaurant, my duffle bag hanging loosely from my shoulder. The streetlights flickered above, casting uneven shadows along the cracked pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed before fading into the city’s constant hum.
I had shed more tears than I cared to admit on the walk out.
Memories came uninvited—my first day here, clutching my uniform too tightly, nerves twisting in my stomach. The nights I stayed late, wiping down tables long after my shift ended. The way I always ate alone on breaks, sitting in the corner with my back against the wall.
I would’ve cherished the experience more if I had made friends.
But I wasn’t a social butterfly. I never had been. I spoke when necessary and kept my thoughts to myself. In a place like this, being quiet made you invisible—and sometimes, that was safer.
I sighed as reality crashed down on me like a pile of bricks.
I needed to find a new job.
The thought alone made my stomach twist. This city was overcrowded, loud, and unforgiving. Jobs that paid well were rare, and competition was ruthless. Bills didn’t care about circumstances or bad luck—they came whether you were ready or not.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and kept my eyes on the path ahead as I approached the sharp corner at the end of the alley.
I barely had time to react before a hand landed on my shoulder.
I jerked violently, a gasp tearing from my throat as my heart slammed against my ribs.
“Hey.”
The word was calm, almost gentle, but my pulse was already racing. I spun around, clutching my chest as I stared wide-eyed at the man standing behind me.
Hazel eyes met mine, warm but alert, studying my reaction.
“Sorry if I frightened you, miss…?” he trailed off, clearly waiting for my name.
My mind screamed at me to stay quiet, but the word slipped out before I could stop it.
“Jasmine,” I said, then hurriedly added, “but you can call me Jess.”
Why did I tell him that?
I tried to hide the discomfort painted all over my face, but my body betrayed me—tense shoulders, shallow breaths, fingers curling into fists.
Did this guy follow me?
Was he a kidnapper?
I mentally face-palmed. If he was a kidnapper, he was a good-looking one. Tall, well-dressed, sharp jawline, blazer fitting him like it belonged there.
I wouldn’t mind being kidnapped by him though…
I froze at my own thought, horrified.
“Okay, Jess…” he echoed, his voice thoughtful.
His gaze dropped to my duffle bag, and a slight frown appeared between his brows.
“What’s in the bag?”
I immediately shifted it further behind me, away from his line of sight, my heart pounding louder.
“Oh—uh, nothing much,” I replied too quickly. “Just a few stuff from my old job.”
Why was I telling him this?
“Old job?” he asked, amusement flickering across his face.
“Yeah. Old.” I exhaled slowly. “I got fired today.”
I avoided his gaze, tapping my ballet flats nervously against the hard, uneven sidewalk.
“That’s great,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
My head snapped up, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
His smile vanished instantly. “No—no, that came out wrong,” he rushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant… I wanted to offer you a job. And now that I’ve heard you’ve been fired, it’s just… right timing.”
He looked almost nervous now, fingers fiddling with the edge of his blazer, eyes boring into the sidewalk instead of meeting mine.
Before I could respond, his hand slipped into his blazer pocket. He pulled out a pristine white card and held it out to me.
I hesitated, then took it.
The paper was thick, expensive.
My eyes landed on the bold gold cursive.
BLACK EMPIRE
The words seemed to glow faintly under the streetlight.
Just below it was an address.
“What—” I began, lifting my head.
The alley was empty.
No footsteps.
No movement.
No man with hazel eyes.
He was gone.
I turned slowly, staring back toward the direction I’d come from, my heart pounding louder than before. The alley stretched on, silent and hollow, as if he’d never been there at all.
My gaze dropped back to the card in my hand.
The gold letters gleamed softly.
And for the first time since I’d been fired, something unfamiliar stirred in my chest.
Curiosity.