The Red Queen's Spectacular Rise After Betrayal

Gisele woke up in a motel room that smelled of stale cigarettes. The earpiece was still in her ear. She had listened to them all night. The planning. The lies. Evander's weak protests that were always silenced by Daneen's manipulation.

If she shows up, Daneen had said around 2 AM, security has orders. Shoot to kill? No, just break her legs so she can't walk the carpet.

No violence, Evander had snapped. Just keep her out.

Gisele sat up. Keep her out.

She checked the gala website. Tickets were sold out. The guest list was locked. Her name was undoubtedly on the blacklist.

She needed a way in. A way that Evander couldn't block.

She opened her wallet. Hidden behind her driver's license was a black metal card. It had no name, just a series of numbers and an embossed symbol of a double-headed eagle.

Five years ago, when Evander had been in a car accident and needed a specialized surgery, she had sought out funding from a high-risk private equity firm. A man there had saved Evander financially when the insurance failed, but he had asked for a favor in return. A favor she had never redeemed.

She dialed the number.

It rang once.

Yes? The voice was calm, professional, yet carried an undertone of immense power.

It's Gisele Mueller.

Silence. Then, the voice returned. "Ms. Mueller. You finally called."

I need a ticket to the Mathews Gala tonight.

That is a fortress, Ms. Mueller. The price has gone up.

I don't care about the price, Gisele said. Get me in. And I need a dress. Something that screams war.

A low chuckle resonated through the phone. 7:00 PM. Alley behind the motel. Look for the Bentley.

Gisele hung up. Her hands were shaking. She had just made a deal with the devil to kill a demon.

At 7:00 PM, the Bentley rolled into the alley. The window slid down. A gloved hand passed out a garment bag and a heavy cream envelope.

Gisele opened the envelope. A VIP invitation. Name: Ms. Vengeance.

She opened the bag. The dress was red. Not just red-it was the color of fresh arterial blood. It was silk, backless, with a slit that went up to her hip.

She put it on. It fit like a second skin. It was armor.

She looked in the mirror. The short hair. The red dress. The cold eyes. Gisele Mueller was dead. This was someone else.

At the gala, the atmosphere was tense. Xavier was sweating, checking his headset. Perimeter secure, Mr. Mathews. No sign of her.

Evander stood at the entrance, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked pale. Daneen was beside him, glowing in a white gown that Gisele had designed for a bride. Stolen.

The Bentley pulled up to the curb. It ignored the valet line and stopped right on the red carpet.

The door opened.

A red stiletto hit the pavement.