Page 90 of Queen of Diamonds

He leaned against the frame of the door, frighteningly familiar, from his pale face and ice-blue eyes to his memorable motions. Like the way he carefully picked a stray piece of midnight hair from his vision as he examined me.

Ace would never fit in with normal people. He moved, talked, and acted differently, as if social conventions didn’t apply, or were perhaps never learned in the first place.

It made him unnerving to be around, even after you’d learned to translate his strange mannerisms. His intimacy with silence, I hated most, because it never had a translation. It could as easily indicate dissatisfaction as it could apathy, and there was never a clue. Not until he spoke, and then he chose words carefully, so you knew in a second if you’d made a mistake.

And by then, it was far too late.

What my nightmares had forgotten was the way every fight and flight instinct misfired when I was in his presence, right down to the heart of what made me an Omega. The predator before me was a member of his designation like no one I’d ever met. An Alpha with ice-cold instincts that set me on edge with every movement he made. There were things in this world that he wanted, claimed, and never forgot, and there was nothing more frightening than knowing I was one of them.

It was why, even with years between us, I’d still been a stranger to a full night’s sleep.

I fought to steady my expression as he drank in the sight of me from the doorway, one thumb caught casually in his pocket as if he were examining wall decor at a dinner party. I noticed a piece of red fabric tucked over his arm and felt a faint sense of foreboding.

Finally, he stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

I glanced at it, but even if it wasn’t locked, he would have men outside, waiting to catch me if I ran. He took a seat on the armchair, a loose smile on his face as he crossed his legs, eyes expectant.

“I’ve been so bored.”

I bit my tongue on the thousand questions I needed to ask.

No nightmare could have concocted the situation I was in, because my nightmares would never have accounted for my mates bringing me into their home.

What had happened to them?

I shoved the terror and question away, knowing I needed to wait.

I held the silence, meeting his eyes in challenge. I needed more from him before I asked.

“Three years was far longer than I’d imagined you’d be gone.”

I took a steadying breath. “How long did you imagine?” I asked, needing to know where he was at.

Was he here to talk, or to torture me?

“Weeks, perhaps,” he replied. “I underestimated you.”

A very slight offer of vulnerability, no matter how insincere, but he was at his most unhinged when at his most prideful, so I dared push that. “I would have thought losing me in the first place would make that difficult.”

His underestimation was the only reason I’d managed to escape.

When he’d made me the promise that he would hunt me until the end of time—the final game—it had left me hopeless. It was in the wake of my hopelessness that my chance had appeared. I hadn’t realised quite how intently he watched me, not until it waned. He believed I had broken, and I think, perhaps, I was. Just not completely.

Ace tilted his head. “If your escape had been entirely unexpected, then yes.”

I stared at him, a lump caught in my throat.

What?

“You were getting dull. I thought it was low risk, giving you a chance at freedom, and then, when I got you back, it would all be better.” He spoke flatly, as if stating the obvious.

He’d... done it on purpose?

He could be lying to save face, but it was a dangerous assumption to make.

My mind flashed back to the day I’d escaped. Rex Sterling, a member of his pack who lived in another state, messed up a cartel deal. Ace had left in a rage to fix it.

I’d become familiar with the few guards remaining with me, including one I’d long since learned had a hidden cocaine stash for particularly long shifts. Ace didn’t let me nest, but that didn’t stop me entirely. My nest had been the tiny space beneath my dresser where I collected a dozen different items that might help me escape—or survive. From it, I’d pulled the small bag of laced cocaine I’d slipped from a bad stash when Ace had taken me to a drug meeting that went south. It was easy to swap the drugs. With fewer guards than he’d ever left me with before—and one collapsed, I’d escaped.

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