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“I don’t give two shits about your assurances,” he said. I searched for Anteros in the chaos, and at last his bluegreen eyes met mine. Hard but even, steady yet penetrating, he tethered me.
“I don’t give a shit about bloodlines,” Crazy A spat. “I don’t give a shit about the throne. I never. Fucking. Did. This whore could be the Buddhist reincarnation of the original Lucio Pavoni. I don’t fucking care. This has been about one thing from the very beginning.” I closed my eyes, trying not to freak out at the metal against my flesh.
“You’re going to learn the truth of him,” he said, grinding the metal into my temple so hard it would leave a bruise. I opened my eyes and found Anteros again, the fireplace behind him made a glowing red halo. “And you’re going to see him for the ugly he is.”
Crazy A thought I didn’t know. He thought I had no idea what had happened between him and Anteros and thought finding out would make me hate him.
I knew everything.
I loved him still.
“This isn’t just about your vendetta, Alcide,” Lucia said, irritation lacing her words.
“No, bitch.” Crazy A removed the gun from me and aimed it at Lucia. “That’s all this is about.” They were fracturing. Each wanted us, but for entirely different reasons. I saw the crack and just needed to stick the wedge in it, but not now. If we did it too soon, we’d all end up collateral damage.
Silently, I let them break apart on their own.
“Think carefully about what you’re doing,” Lucia said evenly, voice a menacing whisper. “Let me talk to my daughter and then you can have your turn. This is a partnership, and we all have reasons for being here.” His glare zeroed back on me. Each heartbeat passed like an hour. Then Crazy A lifted his gun with growl, wiped his forehead, and pointed at the door.
“You have fifteen minutes, then I’m coming after you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nikolai exclaimed.
“You shut the fuck up slave boy,” Crazy A said. “You never had any poker chips in this game.” Nikolai’s fingers whitened on the trigger and for a moment I thought it was going to end right there, but he pulled away and walked to the other side of the library.
Lucia dragged me out and I wished I could have looked at Anteros one last time, but that would have blown my chances. There was a crack in their foundation, and I was too close to making it crumble.
“Is this where he kept you?” Lucia asked, taking a seat on my bed. It was the third time she’d brought me back here, and I had no doubt in my mind she knew what this room meant to me. It was a test. Lucia was poking at my trust, trying to find holes. She patted the seat next to her and, not wanting to give her any reason to doubt me, I sat down.
“Yes,” I replied. My thighs touched hers and the heat of her arm made the hairs on mine rise. It was awkward, my blood itched pretending not to hate her, but I had to play this part. I had hope again. When Crazy A had first appeared, my glassy hope had fractured, spider webs forming on the surface. Now I saw how weak their alliance was, and I hoped again.
I heard a noise down the hall but the door was closed so I couldn’t decipher what it was. My head shot up and I stared at the wood, blood pumping. I hated being separate from Anteros, hated that our plans were little more than “hope for the best.”
Back at the warehouse, I’d insisted we wait and be better prepared. I’d remember what he said to me forever, word for word, etched into my brain matter. He said it so calmly, kissing my neck as the candlelight died.
The longer we wait, the better prepared they get. We can’t afford for them to amass more followers and more supplies. Sometimes in battle the worst plans are the best.
“I won’t keep them alive, you know,” Lucia said, misinterpreting my silence for concern about Crazy A and Nikolai. I was sure they were all thinking the same about each other. There was no way they all ended up happy.
I pulled my eyes from the painted white door, back to her. I wished I hadn’t. The necklace she’d stolen glinted against her collarbone. She must have felt it was hers—whatever emotion existed in her charred heart beat for it—but it didn’t belong with her. It never had. It belonged to Anteros, and now with me. With a smile she pulled my hand to her lap, stroking the skin.
It was all so homey.
A scene I would have written in my dreams.
“It will just be me and you, Francesca Valeria.” She called me by my full name and my stomach roiled. “Did you know I named you after my mother? She was the original matriarch, but I gave you your own name. Francesca Valeria Pavoni. Men are always naming their children after themselves, so arrogant,
never allowing them to be themselves.” She rolled her eyes. “You, bambina, you were going to be your own person, the Pavoni Princess.”
It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. She’d mapped out my entire life, but somehow that was less arrogant?
“Nikolai and Alcide were a necessary means to the end,” she continued. “I have no fantasies that we will work together. That foolish boy Nikolai thinks he’s using me.” She laughed. “I know all about his ‘revenge plans,’ and Alcide…” She closed her eyes with a grimace. “Disgusting.” I was truly stunned. She’d slept with her fucking brother and she had the audacity to say Crazy A was the disgusting one?
“I agree,” I lied, the words breaking my teeth, the smile too tight on my skin. I tasted the lie, oozing and black and acrid. Though lies had quickly become my armor in this world, I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to them.
As she traced the veins on my palm, I searched for something I could use against her. Part A was getting Lucia to trust me, getting her to invite me into her lair. Part B was burning it down.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, remembering Anteros’s story. I wasn’t sure I could bash it over her head enough to kill her, but then I remembered the second part of the story: he’d broken the record and used the jagged edge as a weapon.
