Page 7 of Queen of Spades

“We both know you can survive that shot,” I say, backing down the stairs. “The next one will be a kill shot.” I slam my hand against the button to open the garage door.

“That’s it, princess. You’re abso-fucking-lutely going over my knee before I deliver you. You fucking shot me.” He sounds furious, and that only fuels my need to get the hell out of here.

I bolt down the stairs, out of the garage, and climb into his car.

I spot him staggering down the steps, clutching his side.

What a stubborn asshole.

I turn the car on and shift into reverse. My hands shake, but I pull the lever, moving the seat up so I don’t have to stretch to reach the pedals.

The East Coast hasn’t really done me any favors. Tears prickle in my eyes as I navigate out of the neighborhood. I don’t even know what I’m doing, but I do know if I went back to my brother, that would only be trading one cage for another.

I want a family of my own, and not to have to worry about them being massacred at every turn.

I want a chance to really live.

This is my chance to make a new life.

Sparrow Cavanaugh is officially dead.

Chapter One

Annika

Three Years Later

Climbing out of the parking garage elevator, I toss my crossbody bag over my neck. It’s Friday night, and I got called into work early. That’s never a great sign.

I didn’t even stop for coffee. That’s how panic-stricken Jimmy sounded on the phone. Unlike a lot of the omegas, I don’t live on-site here at the High Roller.

I prefer it that way. Being more accessible to my bosses isn’t my take on a bright idea. Also, it’s hard to make meaningful connections when your entire life is a fabrication. If the remaining Andrettis ever caught up to me, I could put a lot of people at risk. The club security wouldn’t be able to stop them, and people could die.

I learned my lesson last time.

My heart pangs thinking about Eddie and Charles. They died because of me. It’s hard to think about my parents too, but Eddie and Charles are a different kind of hurt. I was delusional when I thought running would free me up to have a family one day. I should have realized the Andrettis would never stop looking for their brother’s murderer.

I shake away those thoughts and nod at the bouncer working the entrance.

The overhead lights lining the front of the club glint against his bald head as he nods.

He pops open the door, and I slide by.

“Thanks.”

“Have a good night,” he growls.

Sometimes I feel like a genuinely awful person. We’ve worked together for too long for me to ask his name now. So, I give a playful smile. “You too.”

The seedy underbelly of Sin City took me when I was at my lowest. A couple years later, and I’ve finally built a solid life for myself.

The fluffy bottom of my skirt flares out as I weave through the people standing just inside. The dance floor is packed with beautiful people, but that’s not unusual.

Elena is in the crush of people, and I briefly consider stopping to see if she’s okay. She’s beautiful and a little skittish, but this place takes some getting used to in general. She’ll definitely be able to make bank once she gets comfortable. She strides toward the bar, so I get on with my business.

I aim for Spades, which is tucked away in the back left corner of the club. To get to it, you have to go through the main casino or through the private VIP entrance in the back. The second level above the casino and Spades—the high-roller room—is lined in reflective glass to give security the ability to see down while the patrons don’t realize they’re being watched. Well, I’m sure some of them do, but the majority don’t care.

To be bumped up to security for Spades, the employee has to put in their time.

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