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She was stunning, but Anteros wished he could rip it off. She tugged at the fabric as she walked into the foyer, an uncomfortable crease on her brow. It was no coincidence she was in the Pavoni colors, just like he was sure it was no coincidence they were both dressed to the nines.
Instead of making Frankie get to her knees with Anteros, Nikolai walked over and grasped Anteros by the collar of his tuxedo jacket.
“Up,” Nikolai barked. Anteros exhaled through his nostrils, swallowing his rage as he stood. When Anteros was at his full height, Nikolai’s arm had to reach to hold him. Wordlessly, he shoved Anteros toward
the library. Frankie gave him a furtive glance over her shoulder as Crazy A pushed her in the same direction. Her hair was still wet from the shower, like dark chocolate melting down her back. Her wide eyes were the only hint that she was afraid. She’d kept her cool even through Crazy A’s reappearance, strong and formidable. A queen.
Anteros had no idea what was going to happen, but he tilted his chin at her anyway, trying to reassure her. She returned his nod with an icy resoluteness befitting a warrior and turned around just as they entered the library. His love and respect for her grew even more; she would never stop surprising him.
Nikolai paused just outside the library, fingers biting at his collar.
“I’m going to kill her in your favorite place,” Nikolai hissed, too low for anyone else to hear. “You’re going to watch her bleed out all over your fine rugs. If I had it my way, I’d keep you alive long enough that you went mad stewing on the memories of her dead body next to your books.” Then he shoved Anteros inside the library before walking past.
They all had a different plan, a different motive. Crazy A and Nikolai both wanted revenge, but of a different kind. Lucia wanted her daughter. They had come together to get it, but Anteros was pretty fucking sure each thought they were going to be the one to get out alive.
He finally saw a way to fracture them, and through that crack, a light.
The library was exactly like he remembered, even the fireplace was glowing. The memories of finding Frankie curled up reading on the wingback chair twisted as Lucia stood next to it, fingers resting on the back. Crazy A standing on the very rug where he’d tasted her, gun pointed at her, was fucking wrong—like seeing sky the color of blood.
Instead of joining the other two, Nikolai climbed up the winding stairs toward the tops of the bookshelves. With only one arm to keep from falling, he leaned off the edge and threw books to the floor. One by one they fell with a thud. Eyes narrowed, Anteros watched Nikolai skip down the stairs. Making sure to maintain eye contact, the boy picked up a book and threw it into the fire. Then another. As each book burned, Anteros’s rage grew with the flames.
Anteros could feel Frankie watching his reaction, though not the way Nikolai was. Concern and worry practically poured from her skin, but he couldn’t let himself feel anything other than fury.
“That’s enough, Nikolai,” Lucia said as the boy tossed a first edition Shakespeare into the flames. “You’ve had your fun.” With one last gleeful look at Anteros, Nikolai dropped a book into the fire and stood by the stairs.
Crazy A eyed Anteros and Frankie. “Now the real fun can start.”
Twenty-Two
I’m definitely going to die tonight.
I had no idea why they’d dressed us up like dolls, but I knew the reason couldn’t be good. Nikolai had watched me the entire time, even when I was fucking showering. Lucia was no comfort. When I’d argued, she’d slapped me. Now Crazy A eyed me, a vicious smile curving his lips. The real fun would start now, he’d said.
The fire was hot and itchy at my open back because Nikolai had used priceless books to feed the flame. If I hadn’t hated him already, I absolutely loathed him now. I surreptitiously glanced at Anteros, stoic even as his books burned. I hated what this had turned into. I wanted to hold him, to comfort him, and to destroy the assholes in front of us. He was always my savior, but I couldn’t even save his fucking books.
“You both should feel very proud,” Lucia said, and I refocused on her. “It takes a lot for a Pavoni to agree to work with a Sokolov, especially if he was just a slave.” Nikolai bristled but Lucia powered on. “And it takes something truly special for me to work with a fag.” I gasped. I probably should have tried to remain more stoic, but I couldn’t help it. Where did she get off saying that? Arms folded, gun pointed lazily at me, Crazy A didn’t seem bothered. I didn’t want to defend Crazy A—I mean, he was aiming a gun at me—but still.
“I think I’ve had just about all the buildup I can stomach,” Nikolai said. “Are we going to do this or what?” His green gaze zeroed in on me and he lifted his gun.
“Put your fucking gun down,” Crazy A snapped. “I’m not finished with her.”
“Let’s just fucking kill her.” Nikolai moved from his position by the stairs to place his gun inches from my skull.
“If anyone is killing that cunt, it’s me,” Crazy A continued. I officially had two guns aimed at me, two people arguing about which got to kill me. My heart hammered so fast I could hear it in my skull. I tried to make eye contact with Anteros, but he watched Crazy A, jaw clenched so hard I saw the muscles quirk.
“Stop!” Lucia yelled, placing her body in front of their guns. “It isn’t time yet. We made a deal, and I still have unfinished business with my granddaughter.” She grabbed my wrist and attempted to drag me out of the library.
The plan was working! I couldn’t believe it.
Lucia was saving me.
She was trusting me.
Nerves twisted my gut as I realized the next step meant killing her. I looked again to Anteros as Lucia pulled me from the library, fearful of what would happen to him and wanting the reassurance of his look, but then Crazy A stepped in the doorway, cutting off our exit. He pointed the gun at both of us.
“I think you’ve had enough mother-daughter time for the night.”
“Get out of my way, Alcide,” Lucia said, glowering at him. “I assure you I will bring her back.” In response, Crazy A pressed the gun to my temple.
