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But he was my father, even if he wasn’t my real one, he was the only one I’d ever had. He’d tethered me to my old life and now that tether was gone.
Fury at my situation, at Lucia, was so white hot it boiled my blood and singed my skin. With one final hug, I dropped him and ran after her.
When I got out of the basement, the club had been emptied. Not even one straggling drunk dude or hollow princess remained. An empty club meant bad shit, but I couldn’t process that.
On a sateen couch surrounded by dangling mirrors, Lucia read a fucking magazine. With her nude heels crossed elegantly over one leg as she licked a finger to flip the page, she reminded me of someone at a luncheon, not someone who’d just committed murder. She hadn’t even changed her fucking blazer. I could still see the blood on her buttons.
I ran up to her and tore the magazine from her grasp, throwing it to the floor. She slowly uncrossed her legs, a fucking smile on her face.
“Hello, Frankie,” she said. “Something on your mind?” My eyes bulged from their sockets and I grabbed her shoulder, ripping her from the couch. She stumbled, one foot falling out of a shoe, red backside exposed. When she turned to me, her easy countenance was gone, now uneven and angry.
Good.
“That man down there was not your father, you foolish, impetuous child!” Her voice raised a notch higher than the usual chilly, melodic tone. She was undone, eyes no longer stone, suddenly twitching. One finger tapped in quick succession on her wrist.
“He might not have been biological, but he was real to me.” There were tears in my eyes and I felt so fucking icky. I’d never thought I would be defending Papa. He hadn’t been a good person. He’d beat me, abused me, abandoned me, but somehow I found myself on team Papa. I hated that.
“Don’t forget whose side you’re on,” she hissed.
“I won’t.” I wanted a fight. I wanted to hit her and for us to tumble on the ground, but that wasn’t her style, and I should have realized that. I was so woefully unprepared for what was coming for me. Lucia took a breath, regained her composure, and smiled.
Her eyes flicked to my shirt. In all the commotion, I’d forgotten I was still wearing the bloody tank. With no hesitation, her hands came to the collar and ripped apart the thin fabric. Her knuckles whitened as she tore it open, fabric stretching under red fingernails until my chest was bare, A visible.
I wasn’t wearing a bra, so I was naked. Maybe I should have been embarrassed, I definitely should have been afraid, but I wasn’t either. I was invigorated. This was the most real exchange Lucia and I’d had since she’d picked me up in that silver town car. I waited for her to do something—slap me, hit me, something.
Instead her eyes flicked to the necklace I still wore. I had half a second to register her movement before her long, elegant fingers clasped it and ripped it from my neck.
That necklace had become as essential as veins. Through the distance, through the war, it kept me tied. I hadn’t realized it was my lifeline to Anteros until she tore it from my neck and held it in her hand, taunting me. Tears clogged my throat.
My eyes flitted around the room, searching for anything to tether me, to give me hope. Instead I spotted Nikolai in the corner, watching—of course he was watching. I turned back to Lucia. The necklace dangled from her palm, glittering in the light. She raised a brow, daring me to try to take it back. I sucked my lips between my mouth, holding back tears.
I wanted to tear it back—my heart ached for it—but soldiers had gathered, hands on their holsters. I held up the stretched fabric of my shirt and headed to the door I’d come through less than an hour before.
“If you leave this time, you won’t be welcomed back,” she said to my back. “Once you walk out, consider yourself an enemy, Francesca. Any hope you had for family will be eviscerated.”
I kept walking.
I rammed the door open with my shoulder and ran into the street. My eyes were blurry with tears and after being in the club, outside was too bright and yellow, like putting a flashlight up to your eyelids. I didn’t see Gabby was in my path a
nd we collided, both of us almost falling to the ground.
“Frankie?” Gabby placed two steadying hands on me. In all the chaos, I’d forgotten her. I couldn’t leave her, couldn’t let her go back into the viper’s pit.
“Gabby, come with me,” I beseeched. “I’m leaving Lucia. Come with me.” Even though I had no idea what I was planning, it was better than being with Lucia—I knew that much.
“I can’t do that,” she said, dropping her hands from my arms. I didn’t have much time before Lucia and her men came after me, but I had to convince Gabby. With one hand, I pressed my stretched shirt to my chest so it didn’t fall down; with the other, I grasped her shoulder.
“Gabby, everything she says is a lie,” I said. “You can’t stay with her. Your mother wasn’t responsible for the death of the Pavoni brothers, your father was. He told Alessio about Emilio raping your mother, hoping to incite violence.” Except for the biting wind that nearly ripped away layers of my flesh, you could almost forget it was winter—the sun was that bright. I had to squint my eyes to see Gabby.
Her face twisted and she knocked my hand off, backing farther away from me. “Stop, Frankie. You know Lucia apologized for trying to keep me from Levi? She promoted him. She’s working to try to find his mother.”
“His mother is dead!” I threw my hands in the air and my shirt fell, so I quickly grasped it again. My fingers were red and growing numb, so I fumbled with the material. “This is not just about me anymore. It involves you too, Gabby. How could you exist if you believe the story they tell you? How?”
“That’s not important.” It was my turn to back away as I took Gabby in. She was wearing a fucking cream pantsuit. The only thing that hinted at Gabby still being Gabby was the pink streak in her hair.
“Take your head out of the fucking sand. There’s something wrong with all of this.” I waved my hand up, gesturing at the building we stood in front of. “They’ve spun a giant lie made of mirrors around our lives, hoping we didn’t stop to look past our reflections. It’s finally starting to shatter.”
She scrunched her face and said, “Frankie, we finally have a home. Why are you trying to ruin it?” I was speechless. A home? If this was a home, then the witch from Hansel and Gretel should sue for libel. Gabby gave me a sad, practically pitying look and walked toward the club.
