Page 4 of Queen of Diamonds

There were things I’d claimed back. It had taken such a long time, but I had. At first, I hated what was stolen. I hated the shell I’d become. But in the years since, I’d seen the gift on the other side of that coin.

I’d discovered the things in life I wanted for no one but me.

I’d been raised a seductress, reared like a sheep for sale at a market, no better than livestock. A role that would gain my mafia father the most for his only Omega daughter. But I hadn’t been prepared for what had happened next. No one could have been trained for that, and the Omega who’d stumbled from that nightmare years later was a husk.

I’d been broken down into rubble.

Everything I had now, everything that lifted my spirits or made me smile, was something I’d fought for. And in that was the gift.

Like the moment I realised I could get my nails done, and that was safe. I loved doing them for me, and it had nothing to do with Ace—or anyone else. Seeing the trigger of a gun between long nails was just… sexy, and I liked it. Even if the stupid things broke at inconvenient moments.

I only wished this gift was ready to start dealing out as many highs as it did lows.

When had I fought enough?

I was so tired of being fragile. I wanted normal. Instead, it felt that with every day I regressed. The last few weeks had been the worst. I’d seen threats around every corner, felt like I was being followed each time I left the High Roller. I’d even ordered groceries to my doorstep so I didn’t have to go out.

And the roses?

I saw them everywhere. Petals tumbling in the wind until I blinked to find it was drifting garbage. A bundle of thorns like a bouquet with the flower heads ripped off—but there were some weirdos around here, and they could have been any flowers.

I wanted to be like Leisha, in her fierce claim on her own life. But for me, weakness was the default, and strength was something I had to fight to get a glimpse of.

My fault. All of it.

I was an Omega who’d rejected her own scent matches. I’d thrown away a connection that should have meant happiness and love. I’d given up a pack that wanted to love and protect me.

There was no one left in this world who would truly look out for me—no one but me. And this is what my life looks like now.

Three years of fighting to get on my feet, only to be destroyed by a rose.

2

GLADE

“Rose Royale.” Tallow’s voice snapped me to the present.

“What?” My voice was dry as I spun on him, almost knocking over a row of flutes.

It was the next evening, and I was thoroughly wrecked. I’d been haunted by nightmares and, once more, barely got a wink of sleep. I usually loved when my shift came around—especially on days I worked with Tallow, but today, the goal was to survive to the next caffeine infusion.

Tallow frowned. “Guy at the end wants a Rose Royale, Kir Royale with a?—”

“I know what it is.” We’d done them far too much last Valentine’s.

But I was getting whiplash.

Roses—again?

I stared at the Alpha at the end of the bar. He looked normal enough, I supposed. Neat suit, buzzed hair. There was a tattoo creeping just up above his collar, but that wasn’t unusual. The bar’s mahogany surface reflected the soft, ambient lighting, upon which he was quietly playing a game of solitaire, laying his cards out before him one by one.

He wasn’t looking at me as he waited.

Right.

It meant nothing.

“You don’t want him?” I asked.

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