Roses For Little Swan

The Theft

She didn't know why she kept the notes.

She had three now. Folded small, in her sock drawer, under socks.

"You fight like you have wings, Little Swan. - D"

"You preen when you're nervous, Little Swan. You tuck your hair behind your ear three times. I counted. - D"

"Good girl for staying. - D"

She told herself she kept them for the police. Evidence. That was a lie.

She kept them because part of her wanted to know what he would write next.

Odette woke up the next morning at 6 am. She didn't find a rose on her pillow this time. She checked. She checked the floor by the door. Nothing.

For a second she felt relief. Then she felt something else she didn't want to name. Disappointment.

"Stop it," she said out loud to her empty room. "He is a stalker."

She got ready for college. She had class at 8 am. English Lit. She was good at it, GPA 3.8, but she was failing attendance because of double shifts.

She wore jeans and a big sweater that hid her thin waist and curves. She didn't want anyone looking. She wore her fine hair in a ponytail.

She checked her door. Two locks. She left. She double-checked.

She didn't see the black truck across the street start its engine after she left.

At City College, she sat in the back. Professor Miller was talking about symbolism. Roses, of all things.

"Roses represent love, but also pain," Miller said. "Because of thorns."

Odette stared at her notebook and didn't write.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Unknown: You wore a sweater today. Hiding. Don't hide, Little Swan. I like your curves.

Her hands went cold. She looked around the lecture hall. Big room, 60 students. Windows. Anyone could see in.

She typed fast: STOP TEXTING ME

Unknown: No.

She turned her phone off.

After class, she had to go to Marty's for her lunch shift. She was short on rent. $890 due in 6 days now. Her loan app sent another warning.

She worked. Nora was there.

"Did he text again?" Nora asked, seeing her face.

Odette nodded. "He knew what I wore to class. He knew I hid."

Nora's face got serious. "Odette, that's not normal. Is that truck following you to school?"

"I think so," Odette whispered. "I think he put cameras somewhere. How else would he know about my apartment?"

"Check your apartment," Nora said. "Like, really check."

"I will tonight," Odette said.

She didn't get to.

Because that night she had a bar shift at Rhodes Custom again. She needed the $80.

She walked in at 5:55 pm. The bar was already busy. Thursday night was busy.

Wolf Blackwood was at the door. VP. He nodded at her. "Odette."

"Hi," she said, small.

"Prez isn't here yet," Wolf said, like he knew she would ask.

"I didn't ask," she said fast, face red.

Wolf smiled a little.

She tied her apron, went to work. Tables. Beers. Wings.

At 8:30 pm, the door opened and the air changed again.

Damien Rhodes walked in. 6'4", muscular, cut, dark eyes, scar on his lip. He had Ford Brooks with him, Treasurer, glasses, laptop.

He didn't look at her right away. He sat in his booth, back to the wall, looking over the whole bar. He opened a beer.

Odette tried to stay away from booth six. She served other tables.

But Ford waved her over. "Waitress. Service."

She had to go.

She walked over, tray in hand, not looking at Damien.

"What do you need?" she asked Ford.

Ford smiled, not unkindly. "Two beers. And my Prez needs his usual."

"I don't know his usual," she said.

Damien looked up at her then. Dark eyes. Sharp lips.

"You," he said, quiet.

Odette's face went hot. "I'm not on the menu."

Ford choked on a laugh. Damien didn't laugh. He stared.

"Beer. Just beer," Damien said.

She went to get the beers. Her hands were shaking.

When she came back, Damien's leather cut was hanging on the back of the booth. He never took it off. But tonight he did because it was hot in the bar.

She set the beers down.

"Your cut," she said, looking at it. "It'll get stolen if you leave it there."

"No one touches what's mine," he said, looking at her, not the cut.

"Someone could," she said, stubborn.

"Let them try," he said.

She rolled her eyes, sunshine stubborn. She picked up his cut to hang it on the hook, to be nice, so it wouldn't get stolen.

It was heavy. Leather, patches, smelled like him - smoke and leather and something clean.

Something fell out of the inside pocket.

Small, black, plastic. A flash drive.

It hit the floor with a little tap.

She picked it up. It had a small symbol on it, the same as the bar sign, a skull with wings.

"What's this?" she asked.

Ford froze. Damien's eyes went to the flash drive in her hand. His face changed, just for a second, hard.

"Give it here," Damien said, voice low.

"It's yours? It fell from your cut," she said.

"Give it to me, Little Swan," he said.

She held it out. Then stopped.

She thought about her $47,820 debt. She thought about the loan due in 6 days. She thought about how bikers always have money. How this drive might have something she could sell. Or maybe it was just music.

She didn't know it was the black ledger. The club's black business, drugs, trafficking routes, money laundering names, all kept by Ethan Jones, Secretary.

She just saw a small drive that might be worth $100 to someone.

She made a stupid, brave, sunshine mistake.

She slipped it into her apron pocket fast.

"I... I dropped it, sorry, here," she said, pretending to hand it back, but pocketed the real one and handed him an old tip drive she had in her apron, black too, similar.

Damien took it, didn't look. He put it in his cut pocket.

"Good girl," he said.

Odette's heart beat so loud she thought he could hear it.

She walked away fast to the kitchen, apron pocket heavy.

In the kitchen, she took the drive out, looked at it. Small, black, symbol.

She put it in her sock, inside her shoe, hiding it.

She finished her shift shaking. Every time Damien looked at her, she thought he knew.

At midnight, she left fast, didn't say bye.

She walked home fast, keys between her fingers, drive in her shoe hurting her foot.

She didn't see Damien watch her leave, dark eyes narrowed, hand in his cut pocket, feeling the drive she gave back, realizing it was not his. It was a cheap tip drive, not his ledger drive with the skull symbol etched deep.

He pulled it out, looked. Fake.

His jaw locked.

"Wolf," he said.

Wolf came over.

"She took it," Damien said, holding the fake drive.

Wolf looked. "The ledger?"

Damien nodded once. Ethan Jones's face went white across the bar.

"Ethan," Damien called.

Ethan ran over. Secretary, keeps records. "Prez?"

"Where's the ledger copy?" Damien asked.

Ethan patted his pockets, panicked. "I gave it to you yesterday for backup, in your cut, you said you'd..."

Damien held up the fake drive. "She took it. Odette."

Silence at the booth.

"Do you want me to get it back?" Steel Smith asked, standing.

"No," Damien said. "I will get it. No one touches her."

He stood, grabbed his cut, left.

Odette was home, door locked, two locks, window locked, checking the teddy bear now because Nora said to check.

She took the drive from her shoe, put it on the desk, looked at it.

She plugged it into her old laptop, crack on the screen.

A folder opened. One file: LEDGER_2024-2026.xlsx

She clicked.

Numbers. Names. Lots of money. $2M, $5M, routes, cities, girls? She saw words she didn't understand. Ford Brooks's name next to numbers. Drake Weston. Poppy Carter's name once. Trafficking?

"What is this?" she whispered.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown: You stole from me, Little Swan. That was not a tip drive.

She froze. Stared at her phone, at the laptop with the ledger open.

Unknown: Open your door. Now.

She looked at the door. Two locks locked.

She didn't open it.

Knock. Three slow knocks on her door.

She screamed, small.

"Odette. Open up," a voice said outside. Low, quiet, scarred-lip voice. Damien.

How did he get into the building? The front lock was broken, yes, but how did he know she was home?

"Go away!" she yelled, brave but voice shaking. "Leave me alone! I will call the police!"

"You stole club property," Damien said through the door, calm. "That's not waitress stuff, Little Swan. That's Torture and Die stuff. Open the door and I will be nice."

Torture and Die. She had heard Wolf say that once, laughing.

She grabbed the laptop, closed it, hugged the drive to her chest, curvy body shaking, thin-waisted, fine hair falling.

"I thought it was a tip! I didn't know!" she said through the door.

"I know," he said. "You think $100 will pay off $47,820?"

He knew her debt amount exactly. How?

She didn't open it.

He knocked again, softer. "Odette. If I wanted to break the door, I would. You know that. Open it."

She knew.

She unlocked it, hands shaking, one lock, two locks.

She opened it one inch.

Damien stood there, 6'4", filling the doorway, cut on, dark eyes black, handsome and scary.

He looked down at her, at the drive in her hand clutched to her chest, at her big sweater and jeans, bare feet, long lashes wet with tears she didn't know were there.

"You stole from me," he said again, but softer now.

"I didn't know what it was," she whispered. "I just... I need money. Loan's due in 6 days. I thought I could sell it."

He stepped inside without asking. She stepped back. He closed the door behind him, locked it.

He was in her tiny apartment. Too big for it.

He looked around once. Mattress on the floor, white cover, wobbly table, loan papers, teddy bear with one eye. Camera in the teddy bear, watching him watch her.

"How much do you need?" he asked.

"What?" she said.

"How much to clear the loans?" he said.

"$47,820," she whispered, confused. "Why?"

He took the drive from her hand, fingers brushing hers. She flinched.

He put the drive in his pocket.

"That drive is worth more than your life and mine together," he said. "If a rival club got it, we all die. You understand?"

She nodded, scared now, really scared.

"But you didn't sell it yet. You kept it. Good girl," he said.

He looked at her loan papers on the table.

"I have an offer," he said. "You returned the drive. I'll give you a deal. Fake-date me for 3 months. Contract. $200,000. Clears your loans. Pays tuition. You live under my roof, separate bedrooms, strict rules. You want rules, Little Swan? I'll give you rules."

Odette stared. "Fake-date you? Why?"

"My mother, Estelle Rhodes, is forcing me to marry heiress Poppy Carter. I need a girlfriend to make her stop. You need money. Simple," he said.

"Why me?" she asked. Same question she asked the teddy bear last night.

"Because you fight for a stranger with a gun to your face," he said. "Because you are the only pure thing in this filthy city. Because I want you."

He said the last part quietly.

"I'm not... I'm not for sale," she said, stubborn, sunshine resistant.

"You're not for sale. You're for rent. 3 months," he said, grumpy.

She hated him. Hated Damien at first, as your arc said.

"No," she said.

He nodded once, like he expected it. He walked to the door, unlocked it.

"Okay. You have a 7-day loan default. 6 days now. My offer stands for 24 hours. You know where to find me, Little Swan," he said.

He left. Left the door open.

She stood shaking, holding empty hands.

On her desk, a new white rose, thorns, left while she was looking at him - she didn't see when he placed it.

Note: "You steal like you have wings too, Little Swan. But you steal from me and you stay. - D"

She picked up the rose, threw it at the door where he left.

But she didn't throw the note. She put it with the other three. Four notes now.

That night, Damien sat in his truck, watching the teddy bear camera feed, watching her stare at the loan portal, $47,820 due, crying, holding the drive that was no longer there, holding his note.

He typed: "24 hours, Little Swan. Then you are mine anyway."

Her phone lit up in the feed. She read it, threw the phone on the bed.

He smiled, scar pulling.