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“No,” Anteros replied. “He tells the truth.” Anteros was done pretending. The day would most likely end in death, and he wouldn’t go to his grave a liar. Frankie had betrayed him; she didn’t love him, but dammit, he’d loved her.
Crazy A laughed. “At least you’re not pretending anymore.”
“Fuck this,” Pretty Boy said, hastily unsheathing his gun and aiming it at Frankie. “This is bullshit. No chick is worth more than us, than the Wolves, than what we’ve been through.” Pretty Boy’s grip was unsteady because he was unsteady. He didn’t even look at Frankie, creased brow and worried gaze stuck on Anteros.
“Wait—” Frankie started, but Pretty Boy fired and her word broke in a scream. The bullet knocked her free from Crazy A and she fell backward into the water, cry disappearing in a splash.
Without hesitation, Anteros shot Pretty Boy. There was only a second for Little O to realize what that meant. His mouth parted in shock as Pretty Boy fell into the water then he whipped around to Anteros. Little O fumbled awkwardly with the trigger then fired.
The bullet cut through the cold air and at the last minute, Anteros parried to the left, discharging his Glock. Little O’s bullet clipped Anteros below his rib just as Anteros hit the Wolf clean in the chest. Anteros fired another shot, then another.
Little O’s gun fell to the pier with a thud.
He stumbled back, hitting the water just seconds after Pretty Boy, their deaths marked by a one-two successive splash. Anteros’s head pounded with adrenaline, his blood vibrated. A years-long alliance had been annihilated in an instant. They were gone before they could even process what had happened. There wasn’t even a spot of their blood on the pier to demarcate the moment when the Beast had chosen the princess.
“You’re a fool,” Crazy A said and Anteros quickly turned to face the next threat. Crazy A already had his gun on Anteros. Holding his side with one hand, Anteros raised his own with the other. This was what it would have always come down to, Anteros realized. That day years ago, Anteros had torn an irreconcilable hole. Their brotherhood had only masked the blood thirst, the need to avenge. It would have always ended with the both of them at each other’s guns.
“At least I admitted my weakness,” Crazy A continued. “You’re in love with her and you won’t admit it to yourself. You’re fucking crippled.”
“I know I love her,” Anteros said as blood wept between the cracks in his fingers. “I’ve loved her since the day she demanded I take her instead of her father. I knew I would rather destroy everything than harm her when you insisted I kill her. I don’t just love her, Alcide, she is my ruination and my salvation.” The declaration poured from him like the blood seeping from his side. He couldn’t stop the words but for the first time, he didn’t want to.
Crazy A’s eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. His gun lowered slightly and Anteros took the brief second pause to gain the advantage.
He fired.
The bullet pierced Crazy A and he fell backward into the water, joining the others in their watery grave.
But not Frankie, Anteros thought grimly as he sprinted to the river.
Determined to bring Frankie back with him, Anteros threw his arms wide above him, clapped his hands together, and fell into the river in a swan dive. The tips of his fingers broke the icy surface then the rest of his body followed.
At first the water was like thousands of razors slicing his skin, but numbness quickly settled—a relief for his injured side, at least. As Anteros dove deeper, the bodies of Little O and Pretty Boy drifted lifelessly next to him, their blood swirling like ribbons in the inky water.
Anteros swam harder against the current, ignoring their surprised faces. They’d had no idea what was coming, had been loyal to the end, and that had cost them their lives.
It was just a flicker of light in the deep water, but she grew clearer and unmistakable: Frankie. The smooth, lovely curves of her face caught the light of the fading sun. Eyes closed, lashes dusted her cheekbones. Her arms rose lifelessly above her like she was reaching up after him. She was falling deeper and faster, and he didn’t have much breath left in him.
Anteros kicked faster, reaching his hand out until his shoulder hyperextended and the muscles of his back and arm groaned in protest. Finally, he grasped her wrist. He tugged them back up through the slogging water while invisible tendrils tried to drag them back down.
His lungs demanded breath, face tight with the need for air, but all he could think about was saving Frankie. Light glimmered across the surface, dancing like pixies, taunting him, a flicker he could see but couldn’t breach. The walls of his brain were closing in on him, desperate for oxygen.
At last, Anteros broke the surface, sucking in air as he dragged Frankie to the pier. With one arm wrapped around her waist, he lifted them. Her wet hair fell over his arm as they dangled. His bicep flexed painfully and his fingers threatened to give way but with a final breath, he pulled them up. Lying on his back, Anteros focused on the few stars that broke through the cloudy gray night, waiting until his blurry vision cleared. Then, with another heavy breath, he rolled over to examine her.
Jesus.
What had he done?
What the fuck had he done?
Her lips were blue, eyes closed. Blood seeped from the bullet wound in her arm like a watercolor left in the rain. Hovering, he touched her neck, checking for a pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there. Still, he had to get the water from her lungs.
Tilting her neck back, he put his lips to her frosty blue ones and breathed into her lungs. He started compressions and even though her lack of response made him want to go hard and fast, he remained steady. Seconds felt like decades, dread coiled in his gut, but then she miraculously sat up. With violent coughs, Frankie expelled water from her mouth. Their eyes locked.
Without thought, Anteros crushed his lips against hers, kissing her so fiercely and so hard that it pierced the numbness. He was still infuriated by her betrayal, but killing Frankie only served to destroy him further.
He was fucked.
Twelve
