Page 73 of Queen of Diamonds

Thistle was Ace’s scent match.

I knew her. She was… a sister, in a way, a haunted mirror of myself, but her reflection had cracked long ago.

A sister who’d never had what I had, because while I had scent matches to fight for, hers had been from hell itself.

“Something like that,” I replied quietly. “He was more interested in her when she arrived.”

That was the truth. For a short time, she’d ripped the spotlight from me. I remember being relieved because Ace had a new fixation. Except she’d broken so quickly. Ace became bored, and he’d returned. I’d been left hollow at my own anger—that she couldn’t have lasted longer, when I still fought.

What a vile thing to be angry about.

There had been times when I’d tried to comfort her—slipping into her rooms at night when I could get away with it. I would find her trapped in her own nightmares, and I would burrow beneath the covers at her side and hold her hand. Sometimes, she would drag me close, clinging to me like the last raft at sea, but I never knew if it helped or not. Her scent would sometimes seem more shattered by the time I left.

“I lasted a year with her there,” I said with a shrug. The story helped me cover the truth they couldn’t know.

It had been a year that Thistle had been there before I got away.

In that time, she’d broken in every way.

I’d seen her kill on his command—guards, friends, and even her own blood. In heats, she begged for him. I knew, because he made me watch so I could see what I could have if I would only cave.

Ace had a pack, if for no other reason than politics and control. His pack mates were two Alphas across different Brotherhood factions in other states. None outranked him, so they would visit for her heat, yet were banned from touching her until she’d asked for him first.

I’d hated seeing that more than anything else. Seeing her become nothing before him. Seeing her give up that last piece no one else should own as she begged for the man who’d destroyed her.

And she’d taught me a lesson more valuable than anything else: when bored, Ace became more cruel and creative than ever. Breaking for him was far from the end. And in that, Thistle had given me the greatest gift, even if she’d never meant to.

I met Knight’s eyes, seeing disgust in them.

Right.

I was playing callous cheating bitch. It was important, since I had to stop them getting attached, and the story was working itself out so easily in Knight’s head. Still, I didn’t glance up at Kyan, at my side. He’d been quiet, hand hovering near my arm, as if he wanted to comfort me.

I forced a smile to my face. “I’m not big on sharing.”

Zed snorted.

“Do you miss it?” I asked.

“What?”

“The Brotherhood.” I was more curious about that than I would admit. How many times had Ace bragged to me that I knew him better than even his brother did? That he’d worn a mask for years, for Zed, even for his father—leaving me to take the fall with such ease when I had rejected them.

As sick as Ace was, I was grateful for that part. If Zed, Knight, or Kyan had suspected anything else, they might have come for me.

And if they had, they would have died.

But was there a forgotten future Zed had lost when he’d been exiled? A vision he’d had for the gang he’d once been destined to run.

There was a pause, and the look on his face told me he was trying to figure out why I was asking him about that. Eventually, he shrugged. “At first.”

Knight glanced at me. “From what we heard, Ace turned it into?—”

“Something my dad would be proud of,” Zed put in. I could see the bitterness on his face.

“You would have done things differently?” I asked.

Zed shrugged, making a non-committal sound.

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