Queen of Diamonds

Chapter 1

Black coffee was a shot of adrenaline to sleepless veins.

The first sip was as bitter as it was necessary as I peered down through the broad breakroom window. Below me was an opulent club with the spotlights that lit up a dance stage.

I was a bartender at the High Roller where rich patrons came to watch Omegas dance—Omegas with a thousand times more confidence than me. But that didn’t stop me from admiring them from my little table in the breakroom that overlooked the floor.

The building was nothing to scoff at. It was cavernous, with lavish velvet drapes lining the walls, and gleaming fixtures that cast golden pools on the kingdom below. The floor was busy with wealthy guests of all kinds who were milling at bars and casino tables, but in the centre was a massive stage, and Jade drew the eyes of the whole room as she began to dance.

This place was more than just a job to me; the High Roller was my home. Literally—since I lived in suite four beneath the club—but there was far more to it than that. The people here were the only family I had.

Tallow, the other bartender tonight, was covering for me—which delighted him, since one of his favourite packs was here, and lavishing him with all the attention he absolutely didn’t need.

He could keep the tips.

I needed caffeine.

I always settled here to watch the floor on my breaks, not just to admire the dancers, but I was proud of what they had claimed.

Something I never would.

The Omegas here were all breathtaking. With every movement it was as if I watched them reclaim something from this world—and so many of the women who worked here deserved that.

I couldn’t catch her scent from here, but by the state of the Alphas in the firing line (who were leaning forward and practically drooling on their shirts), she was wielding it with as much skill as her dance. That’s what the Omegas here were like: world-stoppingly beautiful and able to command a room full of Alphas with such authority that packs might step out of this club and be shocked to find there were other Omegas left on the planet.

But that wasn’t the part that made me envious—not that I would ever admit to that; it wasn’t a good look. I loved everyone who worked here, even if some of them kept their distance. I wasn’t good at showing people I liked them, never had been. I’d been trained to walk and talk like a mafia princess, as lonely as she was deadly. It was a protection I couldn’t shake, but sometimes that put people off.

But Jade… I could see it in her eyes. In her smile that lit in the brief seconds that the music lulled. I think she loved dancing as much as the Alphas loved to watch. I was so fucking proud of what she’d done for herself here. I knew, because she was a talk-out-loud kind, and would chat my ear off at the bar without the slightest concern that I’d never quite figured out how to act like friends were supposed to.

But that was the true secret to how she drew every eye—the reason it could never be me, no matter how long the club left the offer on the table. No matter if I sometimes came back to the room below after the doors shut. Even if I sat on the edge of the stage in the dark, staring up at vacant lights, empty casino tables, and shadows of huge drapes.

I would never have the confidence the others had.

“So. How did the date go?”

I contained my wince as a drink was set at the table beside me, ripping me ungracefully from my self-pity. I think it was the years of dancing that gave Leisha the uncanny ability to sneak up on people with such ease.

Shit.

“Date,” I said with a side eye, “Is a strong word.”

Her dirty blond hair was loose, long enough to frame both her pretty face and generous cleavage. She was unbelievable on the stage and she had a presence that made me think she was a female Alpha in another life. I might struggle to get close to people, but from the first time Leisha had smiled at me, I felt like she was the older sister I’d never had. It was impossible not to trust her.

She sipped on her drink, waiting quietly.

“It went well,” I lied, glancing down at my nails. They were mismatched, one painted with a muted lilac I had on hand instead of the silver I’d got at the salon. I’d patched it after it had snapped last night.

I’d arrived early to the restaurant.

The bustle of servers and fellow diners was nothing but white noise as I stared at the Alpha dressed in a smart suit three tables down. I hadn’t realised how hard I was clutching my handbag until a nail snapped against it.

I shook it off, focusing instead on the Alpha waiting for me—Kent Warner.

Except, when I’d walked up to the table, I’d panicked and hurried on by, dropping into this seat instead, grateful it wasn’t a reservations only kind of place.

What if he wanted to come home with me?

I mean, he would. He’d been told I was looking for a decent meal and a hookup. But he didn’t know what I looked like—I’d asked Leisha to keep that part quiet.

I was done up my best, my makeup was pristine, nails were salon-fresh, and my usual studded earrings were in. ‘Omega goddess’ was the term Leisha had used when she’d finished adjusting my dress straps. The scars on my upper back ached beneath this thin silk, but the fabric covered them well.

Would he think I was hot, though?

Did I want him to?

“You’re beautiful, Glade. You haunt the dreams of every Alpha here.” I heard the ghost of a whisper as if he were next to me. The voice was Ace’s, curdling with nightmares in the blink of an eye.

Still, I was staring at Kent from afar, fingers digging into my purse for dear life.

All I had to do was approach him.

Leisha had set me up well. Her texts were clear. She’d told him I was a sexy Omega bartender not looking for commitment, and that my resting bitch face wasn’t real. Couldn’t ask for a better wing-woman.

“Kent was charming,” I said, taking another sip of my horrible coffee. “And just as pretty as you promised.”

I’d had this whole plan in my head for the date, like I was sixteen again, and my stomach turned at the idea of a kiss.

We would eat, there would be small talk. It didn’t have to come up that I was a mafia princess sold for an alliance the moment I’d turned eighteen. That I had left three scent matches who’d loved me on their knees, staring down the barrel of rejection and exile. Or that—after everything—I’d fled two years later, and now I was on the run from one of the most powerful men in the state. That there was a trail of destruction in my wake, a wreckage that haunted me every second I couldn’t keep it away.

Instead, I could lie and be whoever I wanted: as confident as Jade, as sweet as Elena, or as cunning as Annika.

I’d planned to tell him mundane, normal stuff—like how I liked sweet potato fries over truffle fries, and maybe we’d discuss hobbies—like I had any normal ones, cold night sweats driving me to kickboxing in my living room didn’t sound quite as simple as ‘I enjoy crime TV’.

And after, maybe we would go to his place. If I did, I could leave at any moment I needed to. Only he was an Alpha. The apartment would smell like him.

His territory…

And when he touched me, maybe he would have had enough drinks not to notice how broken I was? The touch of an Alpha was like a hot iron for me, making me shiver, and turning my brain foggy with a need I was afraid of. For years my hormones were worn thin, tortured and twisted so far beyond what was natural it left me vulnerable. It’s why I stayed alone, though I wish I could blame it on only that. It wasn’t like I’d dated betas, either.

So, naturally, I’d chickened out, yet the plan was still spiralling in my head again as I clutched my coffee mug. Like telling myself this lie would make it easier to tell Leisha.

What would have happened next, though?

Well, next, I’d put on an oversized night robe, we’d watch Netflix all night, and he’d cuddle me.

Like… we’d actually watch Netflix, and nothing else would happen.

Okay.

I knew that last part was stupid.

Somehow, after ages in that restaurant, I’d found the courage to stand from my chair, knowing I had to try to make this work.

It would be fun.

One piece of myself at a time, I’d clawed back, and this was next. Why shouldn’t I enjoy a nice dinner and the knot of a sweet Alpha? Well… not too sweet. Gentle was a taunt, silk laced with poison designed to make me suffer.

I shoved the thought away. Ace’s games would never leave. They were the last thing I had never faced. But tonight, I’d rid myself of him forever.

Only, as I’d stood, Kent shifted, reaching down and setting something long and slender on the table.

A wrapped rose.

The gesture was common, romantic, and innocent. But a thousand games flooded back. A thousand nightmares, and that alone was enough to send me fleeing.

I’d spent the next twenty minutes in the restaurant bathroom retching up stomach acid.

“Decent in bed,” I told Leisha with a grin. “Well—he kept up.”

Leisha’s eyes slid to me for only the briefest flicker, as if trying to work out what was happening.

That meant she knew.

Of course she knew. I’d never replied. I’d switched my phone off and ran. Kent was from one of her (many) social circles, and the Omega she’d set him up with last night had bailed with no warning.

Still, without flinching, Leisha took another sip of her drink. “Ex-military,” she said. “Was told he had stamina.”

My smile widened as she played along.

“Kept me busy until the morning,” I said.

I’d fled the date to do the only thing that made me feel better.

The recoil of the shot struck me to the bones. Goosebumps rose across my body. The gun range wasn’t well insulated, and I hadn’t changed. The brush of the black dress Leisha had helped me choose was cool against my skin.

I shifted my gun again toward the forehead of a faceless poster.

Never faceless.

Not to me.

Dorian, the beta who ran the range, never asked me to leave and never said a word when I slipped by him at one a.m., two hours after it should have closed.

At home, I stood at the foot of my bed, hugging myself, broken nail tapping anxiously at my waist as I stared at my pillows in the dim room.

Paranoid.

“Roses are normal,” I chided. “Get a grip.”

Still, I knew if I lay my head down on those pillows, they would swallow me into the late hours of the morning, trapping me in nightmares I couldn’t escape.

I’d turned the late night news on and began drills I’d long committed to memory on the heavy punching bag that hung from the ceiling in my room. Sweat glistened across my skin in the morning light before I’d dared pass to my blaring TV, feeling safe that no broadcast had whispered the name of the Brotherhood in the area.

“You were right,” I said, watching the club below as the music finally came to an end. “A night like that was exactly what I needed.” I wasn’t expecting the burn in my eyes as those words struggled out of my mouth. I shoved the tears back, horrified. I was at work.

I couldn’t cry at fucking work.

But maybe… maybe that date was exactly what I needed.

What if Kent really had been nice? What if we’d spent the night together, and I’d panicked when I reached for the hem of my dress, and he had been okay cuddling me in my oversized bathrobe while we watched Netflix?

I was fooling myself about all of this.

I was a shell.

A lonely, broken coward.

Three years, and Ace was still stealing from me with every breath I took.

I sat beside Leisha for a while in silence. She was watching the floor below with a half smile on her lips, she was the mother hen to all the girls here.

When my break was over, I took the last sip of my coffee with a sigh. Two hours of sleep wasn’t enough for a night as busy as tonight, and I was fully committed to never trying that date debacle again.

I didn’t need an Alpha. I didn’t even want one.

Not Kent, anyway.

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.