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“She wasn’t even your mother!” I screamed at her back. I was desperate; it was like she was slipping away before my eyes. She slowly turned around to look at me.
“You need to stop,” Gabby said through slow, even breaths, like she was trying to contain herself. “What you’re saying is blasphemy.” I staggered, but then I remembered what Sofia had said about those who believed the Family as religion. I dropped my shoulders in defeat.
I couldn’t win.
“You’re going to die out there, Frankie,” Gabby said as I turned to leave.
I looked at the black door to the club. “You’re going to die in there.”
I ran to the church. After I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe anymore, I grabbed the phone and sat in the pews, debating if I should text Anteros. I remembered how I’d given him the letter, and I prayed he still had it. It was my only hope for truth with Papa gone.
I didn’t even miss Papa. The emotions I had for him, the grief, was all begot from the guilt I had over knowing I should feel something. Instead I stared at the text I wanted to send, Lucia’s last words playing over and over on a loop.
Consider yourself an enemy. Any hope you had for family will be eviscerated.
Warm tears spilled past my lids, carving fresh trails over the drying ones. The months with Lucia had been an absolute nightmare and now I’d lost everything. My tether to Frankie Notte. My tether to Francesca Pavoni. I stared at the only tether I had left.
We’d never been the type to share emotions, to talk, as he’d said. Even the night before when he’d shared with me, I’d fucking lied, but now I needed him desperately. Needed to be held and told it was going to be okay. With a sigh, I sat back in the pews and stared at the sky peeking through the slats in the roof.
The sky was a clear, brilliant blue so rare in the winter. The tops of skyscrapers crisscrossed like iron clouds. Air whispered on my fresh cut as I stared up at the sky long enough for wisps of real clouds to curl between the buildings like snakes.
My head pounded with a headache from crying, but something else as well—a portent. I sat forward, elbows on my knees, and rubbed my temples, trying to ease the pain and stop worrying about how I was now going to be sick without a bed to be sick in.
Taking a deep breath, I focused once more on the text. It was either send it and hope what Anteros and I had was more than lust and lies, or sit in an empty church God had long since left.
I need you right now. Please come back to our place.
I sent the words, feeling all at once empowered and terrified. Maybe if Anteros arrived, we could read the letter and discover the truth of me together. The doors behind me burst open only seconds later and my first thought was, Damn that was fast, but of course it was too fast—unless Anteros was secretly The Flash or something.
He wasn’t.
In fact, it was the last person I wanted to see. I would have preferred the zombie reincarnation of Arlo.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped, not bothering to stand up. I was still so tired, aching everywhere. I hadn’t really slept the night with Anteros, and to go from that to Lucia fucking murdering Papa, well, my body needed a break. It appeared I wasn’t going to get one.
Nikolai slowly walked up the pews and I wanted to yell at him that this was my and Anteros’s secret place. It was not for him to desecrate.
Nikolai had started dressing differently the past week, wearing the type of suits Anteros had shed, but oilier. The fabric clung to him, a slate gray jacket and trousers with white shirt and blue tie. His wasn’t a three-piece suit; it was double-breasted. On Anteros, suits had been sexy, powerful, intimidating. On Nikolai, it made me want to check for my wallet.
“You need to go back to Lucia’s,” he said when he reached me. He placed his hand on the wooden pew and the watch I’d caught a glimpse of in the pantry practically jumped out at me. I didn’t know the brand, but it shined like money.
“You need to go fuck yourself,” I mumbled. A tick quirked his jaw as his hand curled over the pew, menace dripping like sweat.
“Just because you’ve gone off the deep end and left Lucia, doesn’t mean our deal is off.”
“It was never a deal, it was you blackmailing me,” I corrected, and then it was my turn to glare.
He stood up and adjusted his suit, regaining composure. “Either way, you wouldn’t want Anteros to discover what you’ve been doing, how you tried to kill him, how you masterminded everything.” I was so furious, I didn’t bother correcting him. He knew he was lying. “You accepted my help once,” he pointed out, folding his arms. “We could work well together if you stopped being so stubborn.”
“I was naive,” I counterpointed. “I had no idea what I was doing.” You still don’t, my brain threw in.
“So I’m the bad guy because I didn’t want to stay a slave my entire life?” he yelled. I nearly jumped. I’d never seen Nikolai yell. His control broke, hands falling to his sides in fists, green eyes alight with fire like a field set ablaze. “He murdered my entire family, you stupid bitch. Slaughtered my siblings.” I wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. It took me a moment to regain my footing.
“You’re the bad guy because you think you’re better than him,” I said at last. “You’re the bad guy because you act like being a slave makes you righteous. You don’t just want your freedom, you want power, and you don’t care who or what you destroy to get it.”
He laughed. “You’ve just described the man you so desperately love.” I was actually stunned speechless, but Nikolai didn’t notice. He powered on. “If you examined the truth, you’d see the only reason I’m the bad guy is because I’m o
n the opposite side of your lover.”
