And his Wolves wouldn’t go for that.
No one would.
It was pretty much insanity to insist on such treatment.
As he was trying to work out what to do, she wound her arms around his neck. She made a small noise, almost a sigh, and nuzzled farther into his shoulder. Her hat had fallen off in the car, so her hair fell in a brunette cascade down his shoulder. Everything else was forgotten then. He stared at the way she looked against him in the elevator doors until they opened, splitting the image to reveal his penthouse.
He carried her to his bedroom, putting her to bed with her clothes still on, and then shut the door quietly behind him. With his fist on the doorknob, he stared at the wood a moment, thoughts still on the woman behind him. Shaking his head, he released the knob and walked to his office. Once seated behind his desk, he pressed the call button for Nikolai. The boy arrived within a minute.
“What do you have for me?” Anteros asked at once. Nikolai lightly shut the door behind him.
“The Notte residence is abandoned, Boss,” Nikolai replied, not needing further clarification. “By the state of the food in the refrigerator, it appears Notte has been gone for at least a week.” The lines in Anteros’s forehead deepened at the news. All of the Pavoni Princess talk earlier had made the need for resolution even more important, but Nikolai was simply adding more confusion to the mix.
“Track him down,” Anteros growled.
“Already on it.” Nikolai bowed and walked back out of the office. Anteros tried to work. He pulled out his laptop, attempting to hammer out details for what was to come for Emilio. In the end, his mind was lost, eyes stuck on the window, watching the ceaseless onslaught of snow. He thought of the funeral.
And of Frankie.
With a frustrated groan, Anteros stood up and left his office. It was dark, the house lights off save for the ethereal glow of white nightlights lining the floors. The padding of his feet was the only sound in the whole place. Anteros was nearly to the hallway to his bedroom when he stopped.
There was someone in the shadows, someone who didn’t belong. Someone covered in blood.
Recognition came seconds later and Anteros snapped, “What the fuck, Crazy A?” Stepping out from the shadows, clothes and skin caked in blood, was Crazy A. Blood splattered his face, obscured the lips that didn’t smile. None of the blood appeared to be his.
“The Pavoni Princess rumor originated in The Council,” Crazy A said grimly.
Anteros rubbed a hand to his neck and said, “That’s not exactly news.” The Council had been twisting the rumor for awhile. He was sure they were the ones who started the whole estraneo thing. Truthfully, he hadn’t been sure they’d begun the stuff about Frankie, but it would make sense, and if that was the case, then he could call off Nikolai.
And he wouldn’t have to terminate Frankie.
He exhaled slightly.
Crazy A narrowed his eyes. “They’re behind the attack today.”
“How do you know that?” A second later Anteros surveyed the blood on Crazy A and amended his question. “How much of a shit storm did you create getting that information?”
“The Council isn’t what worries me,” Crazy A replied, eyes still hard and narrow.
Anteros raised a brow. “Oh?”
“You’re looking into the rumor,” Crazy A said. “You got Nikolai looking into the truth of it.”
Anteros narrowed his eyes, matching Crazy A’s fierce glare. “Are you following me?”
Crazy A shrugged. “I gotta wonder why you’re keeping that from us.” It was true Anteros hadn’t informed his Wolves he had Nikolai looking into Frankie. He’d never kept anything from them before, but then again, he was the Boss—he didn’t have to tell them shit.
“It’s nonsense,” Anteros said. “Rumors.”
“You know I never questioned you.” Crazy A paused, looking at the blood on his hands. “Even while you got us jumping through all of these hoops with Emilio and with the fucking government, I didn’t question. I knew you must have some bigger plan, some greater idea that we just couldn’t see yet.”
Anteros folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, waiting for Crazy A to get to the point.
“When we were just soldiers, you were still the Boss. You’re the reason for all of this.” Crazy A gestured to the penthouse. “You are the reason. You killed a hundred men single-handed. You climbed from slave to soldier to Boss. And you brought us with you. ”
“I don’t need a reminder,” Anteros replied. “I was there.” Over the years Anteros had seen a lot of shit with his Wolves, even if their brotherhood had started with blackmail. Little and Big O he’d found stealing from the Family, Pretty Boy had been having an affair with a Councilman’s wife, and Crazy A’s secret was never mentioned. Anteros kept their secrets, in exchange for their support. Pretty Boy had been all too keen, as the Councilman they sent to death was the husband of the wife he was boning. In the end the debt had evolved to something much greater. They became something much greater.
“Maybe you do,” Crazy A said, looking at the caked blood on his fingers. “Do you remember what happened ten years ago? I didn’t question you then. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t.” Anteros narrowed his eyes even more. The two of them never mentioned their history. It wasn’t pretty. It was ugly and fucked up and it had nearly torn them apart. None of the Wolves knew what had happened between Anteros and Crazy A, how Anteros and Crazy A had nearly killed each other.
Crazy A slowly looked up from his hands, capturing Anteros’s stare, hard faced. “I’m questioning you now.”
“You sure about that?” Anteros asked.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Crazy A continued. “That the moment you took her she’d never go to The Institute or anywhere else.” Anteros folded his arms, letting his stony silence be his response.
Crazy A was unperturbed. “I got to wonder if it goes beyond that, if you knew you’d never be able to let her go.”
“Careful.” Anteros was icy, tone grim and foreboding. “You might say something that can’t be unsaid.”
“There’s a girl up in that room. In your room—” Crazy A gestured down the hall “—threatening everything we’ve ever built. She’s a massive complication. Forget the rumor, she distracts you and you can’t see your priorities shifting. I’ve never seen you miss a delivery. Gotta wonder why she’s still breathing, Anteros.” Anteros folded his arms, eyes locked with Crazy A’s in a fierce glare. Crazy A hadn’t used his name in years, since the day that he’d earned the name Beast. Crazy A matched his glare with intensity for a few more beats, then he pushed past him with a shove. He pounded through Anteros’s house as if he hadn’t just broken in, and then he left.
Anteros watched him pull open the front door and slam it shut. He stared at the door for a few beats then glanced down the shadowy hallway he’d been heading toward before Crazy A had interrupted, where Frankie slept soundly in his room.
Thirteen
With the shooting at the funeral, Beast had been so busy that for the past day and a half, I hadn’t seen him. We’d not been together since that moment after the funeral when he’d brushed the debris from my cheek and taken me inside his lair.
I put a hand up to my face as if I could still feel it.
Then there was after when he’d carried me up to the penthouse and to his room. I’d been asleep, but when he’d put me to bed, I’d woken up. In that brief, fleeting moment, I saw him. It wasn’t Beast, it was someone else. What I mean is, I saw a man. There was a tenderness to him. He put me to bed, covered me up. He didn’t touch me inappropriately.
And…fuck.
I didn’t sleep. I waited for him, hoping he would come back, but he never did. I watched the sunrise alone and Nikolai escorted me back to the white room.
My room. Where I’ve been now for nearly two days, alone.
Dumb.
I’m so dumb.
Alone is good.
I shook my head, trying to get
the thoughts out, and reached for Sofia’s journal from beneath the floorboards. That’s what I’d been doing lately when I felt my control slipping, or when I started to feel like I might not entirely hate my situation—I read. I suppressed it. It helped that I had so much reading material. It was how I had escaped my life before. When I was too sick, or too lonely, or when Papa went on one of his tangents, I would read.
There was a massive power in reading. Whenever I used to meet people who didn’t read, I would imagine what wonderful life they led—they’d have to have one. I wouldn’t have survived being sick had I not been able to disappear into different worlds every day.
I sat down in the cozy area I’d made in the blind spot in my room using a pile of pillows and blankets. I would claim they were dirty if the Beast asked what happened to them. It felt like forever since I’d been able to read Sofia’s journal. The last time I’d been with Sofia, someone major in their world had died, but she’d been too busy with Alessio to care.
I opened the book, starting off.
I met Alessio at our spot again today. Oh my it’s so silly, I have my hand to my cheek as I write this, as if I can capture some of the warmth of his hand, as if I can still feel the way he caressed my bruise. But I can still see the fervor in his eyes when he saw the latest from Dario.
I can still hear his words to me.
“I’ll kill him,” he’d promised. His voice was so low, it reminded me of the wolves in the fairytales. Knowing what I know about his temperament, how can I ever tell him that his brother, Emilio, cornered me and pressed his lips against mine? I froze, letting him stick his slimy tongue down my throat. I don’t know what to do.
I write in this journal, hoping my tumultuous emotions will make sense.
How do I tell Alessio that his brother kissed me?
Will he believe me when I say I didn’t want any of it? No matter how many times I write it out, no matter the scenario, it doesn’t end well. Men. Boys. Uncles… I have been called pretty by them my entire life as if a compliment from them is the best currency. Most days I contemplate burning my skin so they don’t look at me.
Now both the Pavoni boys are looking in my direction. This will not end well for me. I know the rules. I’ve been told them since I was young enough to remember. I still remember Mama wagging her finger at me the day I let my tongue slip and confessed my attraction for Alessio.
This kiss is something I need to put inside of me and hope doesn’t resurface.
If Alessio finds out, I know he’ll kill Emilio.
At the sound of footfalls outside my room, I closed the journal. Quickly I stashed it under the loose floorboard and threw the blankets and pillows in the closet. It was a haphazard attempt at hiding but it would have to do. I was pretty sure it was just going to be Nikolai with the tea I’d requested. He’d told me I had three hours until the Beast would be back. Even so, I could never be too sure.
I ran back to the bed and sat on the edge, running a finger through a stray lock. A moment later there was a knock on the door. I released a small sigh of relief, feeling my tense joints relax. The Beast never knocked.
“Come in,” I said, going back to the closet to grab the blankets and pillows. As I was setting back up, he placed the tea on the ground beside me. I picked up a beautiful china cup, inhaling the fragrant, steaming herbs. The liquid was hot on my tongue—just the right temperature for sipping.
When I set it back down on the silver tray, I paused. There was a flyer in the way.
“Wait,” I asked, stopping Nikolai from leaving and picking it up. “What is this?” I turned the thin paper in my hand, reading the bold text: The Pavoni Princess Lives.
Nikolai didn’t turn around when he answered. “The future.”
The Pavoni Princess Lives. I lifted up the cheap colored paper, which felt smooth yet scratchy in my hand, and stared at the big, blocky letters. They demanded my attention, demanded to be read. Believed. My brows wrinkled as I tried to assign meaning to them. Sofia had mentioned something about a Pavoni Princess in the journal, but that didn’t help me understand it any better.
I was still trying to make sense of it when a soft knock sounded on the door. I looked up to see Gabby gently push it open, inching her head through.
“Is this a good time?” she asked. “Nikolai came and got me but I can come back later…” Gabby pushed the door open the rest of the way. She stood in the doorway, fidgeting with her oversized sweater.
“Of course it’s a good time,” I said, setting the flyer back down, still absorbed by it and Nikolai’s mysticism. “Nikolai came and got you?” I asked as Gabby took a seat among the soft blankets in the blind spot of the camera.
“He said you’d probably want to see me.” She pulled in her lip, uncertain. “If that’s not the case, I can go.” My eyes narrowed. I mean I did want to see Gabby, but what business did Nikolai have guessing at my intentions, especially without asking first? Nikolai had shoved the two of us together before Gabby had murdered her husband, too. I looked down at the flyer. Now what was he up to?
“Gabby, what do you know about Nikolai?” I asked. Giving the flyer one last look, I stashed it back under the tea.
“Not much,” she said. “I know of him. He’s been a slave to the Beast since he was a little boy.” Beast had said as much, but he’d phrased it very differently, had made it sound like he’d saved Nikolai’s life.
“So you didn’t know him? You weren’t friends?”
“Frankie…” Her face transformed as if thinking about something powerful. “Frankie, before you, I didn’t know anyone other than Giovani. I don’t know if I would have had the courage to kill him if I hadn’t met you at the park.”
“But that was Nikolai,” I pointed out. “Nikolai brought us together.”
“I suppose…” She didn’t seem very convinced, but I wasn’t letting it go. Something about Nikolai wasn’t right.
“Do you think he wants something?”
“From me?” She was shocked. “What could I possibly offer him?”
“From me then?” I asked. Gabby chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. It was a little while before she spoke again.
“You know everyone said Beast should have killed him?” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “He killed his entire family but saved Nikolai.” I thought back to what Beast had said: I saved him. He’d killed Nikolai’s family but not him. Why?
“That was probably a mercy,” I said.
“I think it would have been mercy to kill him,” Gabby said flatly. I glanced at her. Occasionally she said things like that, things that belied her submissive exterior and gave way to the darkness inside of her—a darkness that living your youth as a virtual sex slave to a man twice your age will beget. “And I think Nikolai would agree with me.”
In the silence that followed, my thoughts drifted. To what Nikolai wanted. To what I would want if someone killed my family and then enslaved me for ten years. I knew immediately: revenge. I just wasn’t sure how Gabby and I fit into his plans.
I exhaled, changing the subject. “Are you going to tell me what really happened with Giovani? I had a cop show up and say some pretty interesting shit to me at the funeral. Beast was right there when he talked to me.” Ever since the funeral, I’d been dying to know what had actually happened after our meeting at the park. At my question, her entire body transformed, glowing bright. It wasn’t really the reaction I’d been expecting when asking her about the murder of her husband.
She got up on her knees, put her hands in her lap, and, almost as if it were a secret, said, “I fell in love.”
“You fell in love?” I asked.
“With Levi, the cop.” A broad smile spread across her cheeks, undeterred by my incredulity. A moment later she added, “Oh, and he helped me cover up Giovani’s death.” She didn’t give me a second to ask about that because immediately she followed with, “Frankie, he’s so wonderful. He’s kind and he’s caring and I just feel so much with
him. I never knew I could feel this way before.”
“You’re in love,” I repeated it as if it would help me understand.
“When Giovani had me arrested, he was the one who booked me,” she explained. “He had the brownest eyes, and even under the fluorescent lights, his hair was the most gorgeous shade of brown. They called him Red Bear, Bear for short, because they’re racist jerks—his mom is Native American—but his name is really Levi. Levi Luchessi. He followed me home and after that…” She kept going on and on, hardly taking a breath. I watched her face change as she told me different parts of the story, going from sadness, to pure bliss, to anger, and back again to bliss. I wasn’t sure what to say. She looked like a girl in high school talking about a crush, not a person describing the man who helped cover up the murder of her husband.
Was it even my place to question? This was the only happiness Gabby had ever known. I wasn’t really the one to judge, anyway. I wasn’t exactly the poster girl for healthy emotions. Maybe they were in love. He’d helped her cover up the murder, after all. If that wasn’t true love, then what was?
“Isn’t he dirty?” The thought popped into my head and out of my mouth. Gabby had been booked at the 72nd precinct, which was the dirtiest, most rotten precinct in New York.
“Clean as a whistle.” Gabby paused. “Except for the whole murder cover-up. He’s undercover,” she explained. “He’s trying to take down the 72nd and the Pavonis.”
“Huh.” I sat back at that revelation: an undercover cop who was actually trying to help us. Suddenly it was like there was a break in all the rocks that had caved in. “So he’s trying to help us?”
“Yep.” Gabby held a pillow to her chest and looked over my head, out to the city.
“So he could get me out of here?” I asked. “Get us out of here?”
“No.” The answer was immediate.
I didn’t understand. “But why?”
“He’s not going to be part of this life,” Gabby said. “Ever.” It was on the tip of my tongue to remind her that she was part of this life, but then I realized how silly that was. Of course Gabby knew that, had agonized over it. I’d been part of this life for less than a month while Gabby had been born into it. There wasn’t a minute that went by that she wasn’t aware of her situation.
Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning Page 22