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I stumbled back, hand grasping the bed’s glazed wooden poster for support as the video continued. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong. It really did sound like I’d masterminded everything. It sounded like I was in love with Nikolai. It sounded like I’d planned everything with Vic and Lucia. It sounded like I’d planned to have the needle placed in the hotel room. My stomach dropped, feeling sick. Nikolai pressed another finger to the screen, making the picture and sound go black.
“It’s amazing what technology can do these days.”
“You wouldn’t,” I said, even knowing he would. I just couldn’t process what was happening. I spun away, feet padding across ancient, shined hardwood. I went past the beautiful, one-of-a-kind furniture in gold and cerulean, going straight to the window.
Nikolai was at my back. “I think you know I would.”
“But that’s not true. You twisted my words. It’s all a fucking lie.”
“Do you think Beast will believe that?” Nikolai asked. Breathing labored, I focused on my nails digging into the ivory paint on the sill. Did I think he would believe me when all evidence pointed to the contrary?
No. I didn’t. Not when the trust between us was already so tenuous. I would find a way to eventually tell him who Nikolai really was, but first I had to get Nikolai’s fucking phone or figure out a way to convince Anteros without any doubt.
“I trust you will do what I asked,” Nikolai said to my back. I didn’t respond, but I didn’t need to. He’d won this round. When I heard the snick of the door closing, I wanted to scream, but instead I scythed my nails tighter into the sill until paint curled up where my nails bit the edges.
The night sky was made a blank canvas by the blinding city lights. The air was crisp and the smell dug into my chest, tearing open the parts I desperately tried to keep shut. I still agonized over the way I’d left Anteros, wondering if what I was doing was correct. Sometimes I hated my
self more than I ever hated him. It was a hate I rarely acknowledged, but nevertheless felt every day. I hated myself for leaving him, felt myself wishing I were his slave. When that happened, new hate flowed all over again—hate at myself for giving in, for letting him into my heart, and for wanting to keep him there.
Do you know what I want from you, Frankie?
I thought I had, thought I’d finally figured out the big, bad Beast, then he’d responded in a way I never saw coming.
Love.
I lifted the necklace, feeling the hard edges as I got lost in the snow-dusted city. Each night I ruminated over his response. I wondered if his love was just a trick, a mind game. After he climbed through Gabriella’s window, I was no more certain. Were we Romeo and Juliet? Or was I Ophelia, destined to go mad wondering?
I looked over the tops of brightly lit skyscrapers, beyond to where I knew he was. My mind told me a Beast couldn’t love. My heart, though…I exhaled, letting the necklace fall from my grasp. My heart was going to get me killed.
Three
A week had passed since Anteros crawled through Frankie’s window and his blood boiled for her. As much as he’d itched to tear apart the city until he got to her, he’d had to wait, had to find the perfect moment and meeting spot. That night, he finally had.
Pulling open his desk drawer, he grabbed the burner phone with Frankie’s number and quickly texted.
Tonight. Meet me at this address.
Just as he sent the location, the door burst open and with it, the lively sounds of laughter and saxophone flowed like a wave crashing over the pier. Anteros put the phone back as Nikolai came through the door, a piece of paper in his hand.
“I had to take down some flyers off the wall outside,” he explained. In the dim light, the flyer was still bright and bold, black letters stood out against the red paper. Colorful dots of lights from the club flared across the lettering.
Slay the Beast, Save the Prince.
Anteros stood up and walked to Nikolai, ripping the flyer from his hands. The prince? The fucking prince?
“They’re all gone. I saved only this one,” Nikolai continued. “I figured you would want to know before anyone else.” Like Anteros had with Lucio, Nikolai was rising through the ranks. Soon he would move beyond slave and become a soldier. Anyone who’d said Anteros should have slain the boy was wrong. Nikolai was proving to be the most loyal of his followers, even beyond the Wolves at times.
“You were right.” Anteros walked back to his desk and set the flyer down, smoothed it over the wood, and leaned against the front of the desk, arms folded. The door was still open, powerful jazz curling in the air.
“I gotta say, sending Dubois in a box was pretty fuckin’ baller.” Pretty Boy entered the room, pushing past Nikolai and knocking him slightly off his feet. Little O and Crazy A followed, though Crazy A hung in the corner. “I would have killed to see Lucia’s face,” he continued, dropping to the couch.
“Me too,” Crazy A said, eyes flashing to Anteros before resting on the polished floor. Since the move with Dubois, Crazy A had been somewhat mollified.
“The needle tested positive for acetylcholine,” Pretty Boy said. “Took so long because apparently only one fucking test can find it. The lab guy was ready to give up. We incentivized him.”
“With knives,” Little O added.
“It’s deadly,” Pretty Boy continued. “But we were expecting that. Still no leads on who helped the slave put it there.” Anteros had been pretty certain it was going to be fatal. As much as he wanted to know who’d helped Frankie, he was more curious as to why Frankie hadn’t attempted to use it on him. He hadn’t even been aware of its existence until they’d searched the room.
