Anteros and I stepped out the front door of the warehouse onto the docks. It was daylight, changing the place from fire and shadows to ice and shine. It was almost two months ago exactly I was sitting on a bench in Gramercy Park, planning to take down the Beast. I remember thinking how fucking crazy the plan was, how it wasn’t going to work. Now I was with the Beast, with an even crazier plan, hoping to take down someone even worse.

But I wasn’t scared.

I was thrilled.

With Anteros’s hand at the small of my back, even though the plan was insane and probably suicide, I felt safe.

It took a few seconds for the guards stationed at the door to realize what had happened. One had been playing a game on his phone and at first he only glanced at us. He looked, went back to his game, then did a double take. Jumping to his feet, he knocked his friend in the arm while adjusting the gun over his shoulder.

“Holy shit,” he said, pointing his semiautomatic at us. “That’s…” He gulped and turned to the other one. “That’s the Beast.”

“And that’s the fucking princess,” the other said. Eyes wide and guns still pointed, they didn’t say anything else. It was like they didn’t know what to do with us. Slowly Anteros removed his hand from my back and put both up. I followed.

“I think you want to call some reinforcements,” Anteros offered. Hands still up, he gestured behind them to where more soldiers mingled. As if snapping out of a trance, they quickly sprang into action.

“Help!” they called. “Help!” Anteros turned his head, a small smile curving his lips meant only for me.

* * *

Black sacks were tossed over our heads, our weapons were confiscated, and we were thrown into a van. We had no idea where we were going, but that was okay. We didn’t need to know. We’d expected that.

So far it was all going according to plan.

Assuming they took us to either Lucia or Nikolai or—and this was a big hope—both, we wouldn’t have to fight our way in. They’d have led us directly to them. I wished I could see where we were going, though. The sacks were made of some kind of felt and my breath was hot and muggy.

The van came to an abrupt stop and I almost fell forward, but someone grabbed me by the shoulder. We were shoved from the car and they ripped off the bags. Bright morning light blinded me and it took me a few seconds to adjust. When I did, emotions flooded my chest.

The penthouse.

Where it all started. I wasn’t sure why they’d even bothered with the bags, but I didn’t care. I breathed it in. The first time had been like a fairytale with the bright lights for Christmas and the brilliant snow. When that illusion had been ripped away, it was like losing oxygen. The lack of snow these past months made it worse. Before it had blanketed everything ugly, and now it was all bitter, numbing ice without any of the beauty of snow.

I looked over to Anteros, who also studied the building. I finally understood what he’d been trying to tell me. We didn’t need to be a fairytale. Fairytales were make believe. This was reality and though it was ugly, it was magnificent.

A soldier pushed me and I stumbled my way through the front door. Anteros growled, but only I heard it. We all piled into the elevator.

My throat clogged when they opened. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Pristine walls.

Home.

But Lucia and Nikolai were there, and I was instantly angry. How dare they be in my home? I was shoved again, stumbling over the threshold. Anteros’s hand briefly touched mine and I knew it was on purpose, knew he wanted me to know he was with me. I glanced at him, saw the rage on his face matching my own. We had to get our shit under control.

With one look at the soldiers, Lucia had them going back the way they’d come. The elevators dinged and then they were gone. It was just Lucia, Nikolai, Anteros, and me.

“Granddaughter,” Lucia said, nodding at me.

“Mother,” I hissed. Fuck. I was already blowing it. I needed to be sweet. Anteros had told me she had one weakness: me. Our plan hinged on me being nice, but seeing her next to the chair Anteros had read in after I’d thrown the apple in the fire thrust me back to the beginning.

Hate. Love. Disgust. Need.

I felt everything like it was the first time, emotions swirling like I was spinning too fast on a merry-go-round. This was our sacred ground and they were unearthing bones without care.

It made my spirit restless.

Angry.

Her eyes grew huge and Nikolai whipped his head from Anteros to her to me. Before I could think, Lucia came and grabbed me, tugging me down the hallway. I threw my head over my shoulder, locking eyes with Anteros, trying to steady myself in his bluegreen depths. There was fear in my throat but this was what we’d wanted—to separate them. I just hadn’t thought it would happen so quickly.

I’d thought I would have time to prepare, thought we’d get thrown to the floor or they would say something stupid like in the movies—you know, when the bad guys go over their evil plan and shit? Instead it was less than five seconds and I was being torn from Anteros, his stare locked on mine while he and Nikolai got smaller and smaller. Then Lucia shoved me into a bedroom and shut the door.

Blinking, I shifted focus. It was the room Anteros had made up for me. It hadn’t changed at all in the months I’d been away. Still clean. Still feminine. Still perfect. My chest squeezed, memories and emotions coming back in a whirling rush. I wondered if Lucia knew its importance; I wouldn’t have put it past her.

I could faintly hear Nikolai and Anteros—not the words, just his deep, even cadence melting through the door. Anteros didn’t sound bothered in the least, but that didn’t assuage my fears. He could have a gun in his mouth and he would be calm.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Lucia asked, gripping my arm and shoving me against the door.

“No,” I spat.

Her crystal blue eyes slimmed. “You were never taught any manners.”

“Must be the lack of parental influence,” I snapped. “Or maybe it’s because my parents were fucking demented Flowers in the Attic rejects.” Fuck. I rubbed a hand to my forehead. I was getting off course. I couldn’t show her how angry I really was. I needed to make her think I was on her side, but I was just so fucking mad. I couldn’t contain myself.

It had been so much easier when Anteros and I were discussing this in candlelight, so much easier to say, yes I could pretend to like Lucia until the right moment.

I was ready to apologize when she yelled, “Cazzo!” and stepped back, giving me space and putting her free hand to her head. “It’s not my fault you weren’t a boy and Lucio wanted nothing to do with us ever again!”

Shock filled my system, blood turning hot and cold like a badly heated shower. I almost laughed—all of this had been because I wasn’t a boy?

All this time, wanting her to be the grandmother I’d always wanted—not even realizing that she should have been the mother I needed—had been punishment for my second X chromosome?

My knees felt weak and I leaned against the door, focused all my energy on staying standing. It was always the same story. First Papa used me as a punching bag for his inner demons, now Lucia because I represented what she never got—her love, her empire. I wanted family but this wasn’t family. The family I wanted came with unconditional love. I was sick of being used as an effigy for other people’s demons.

My rational brain told me to stick to the plan. I needed Lucia close to me, but my rational brain was drowning under a tsunami of emotions I’d kept at bay for months—years.

“If you hated me so much then why didn’t you just kill me when I was a baby?” I screamed.

“I don’t hate you!” Lucia reeled as if I’d actually hit her and I wanted to scream even louder. Her words hurt, not mine. “I love you!”

* * *

A beat passed between us and I did my best to stay stoic. Muffled voices drifted into the room and I reminded myself of the reason I was doing this. Lucia was dead to me. Her love was nothing but poker chips. I pulled out the knife she’d stuck in my heart, getting back to the task at hand.

“You were going to ship me off to be a sex slave,” I said, coming off the door. “Not exactly winning mother-of-the-year awards.”

“I wanted us to work together, to take the throne I was always meant to have, but you just had to have him.” She flung her arm out in a violent thrust toward the door at my back. “A few years at The Institute and you never would have questioned my authority again.” I wanted to scream at her—she was going to make me a sex slave as punishment?—but I kept my tongue tied. I no longer wanted to walk along the sick, twisted pathways of Lucia’s mind.

“When my parents discovered Lucio and I together in the basement as children, they sent me to The Institute for a year and sent Lucio over to America.” Based on my existence, I was going to assume that the punishment didn’t really land. I wanted to be sarcastic and biting, but I held my tongue.

Lucia was pretty much impenetrable, Anteros had said. Except for one thing.

Her daughter.

Me.

I was the one person she could never kill, the one thing she could never hide or let go, because she had hope we would be a family—I knew a little bit about that. I needed to exploit her weakness, and so far, I was doing a pretty fucking terrible job. I swallowed all of my pride until it settled like stale bread in my stomach then I placed my hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It felt so wrong, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and I knew it was working. “I’m sorry, I just want to know the truth.” I focused on keeping my face sympathetic, my hand reassuring and not the claw I wanted to dig into her skin.

“I already told you most of it,” she said. “The rest is unimportant.”

I scoffed. “Are you kidding me? How do you expect me to stay with you if you won’t tell me the truth about where I came from?” At least it wasn’t so hard to act now because I did want to know. All of my anger at her lies and manipulation came bubbling to the surface, and I just redirected it in the right direction. Lucia said nothing, instead walking over to the vintage dresser, trailing a finger along the surface. I was even more angry, wanting to rip her finger off as I remembered the night of the dinner party when Anteros had thrown me on that very dresser.

“You can’t tell me lies and expect me to just follow you blindly,” I said, swallowing as I tried to sound steady. “I’m not a soldier, Lucia, I’m your daughter.” I stressed the familial word in hopes it would sway her to my side, even though it practically charred my tongue. She paused, red manicured nail pointed.

“When I was young, I had you,” she began. She folded her arms and faced the French windows I’d looked out so many times before. Some moments passed and I began to wonder if she would ever finish.

“Lucio wanted to kill you when he discovered you were not a boy,” she continued. “It was too much risk for him now that you weren’t going to offer him anything ‘substantial.’ I wouldn’t have it. I had no choice but to hide you, and I hoped to raise you without any knowledge of the Family.”

“You were the woman in the rumor,” I thought aloud. “You’re Isabella.”

“A lie is always more believable if it has some grain of truth, bambina.” She turned back to face me, a smile on her face that said she was way too fucking proud of herself. I wanted to yell that I wasn’t just some lie that she could fuck around with. I wasn’t a pawn on a chessboard. That was my life she was talking about. Instead I bit the soft, fleshy bit of skin inside my cheek until my pain clouded the rage.

“Why didn’t you run away with me?” I hoped the strain in my voice wasn’t noticeable.

“I wish that had been possible, but I was watched twenty-four seven by the Family.” She sighed, looking away as if losing herself in a memory. “I met your guardian when I was at The Institute and later hired her to look after you. She was supposed to provide you a good, stable life in America. She knew the circumstances of your birth. She knew the Pavoni Family. She had two choices: watch you or be sold to some man. I provided her enough money to care for you for years. I couldn’t keep track of you because I was under surveillance. I assumed she would care for you, but then she met Antonio Notte.”

I widened my eyes. “What does Pa—” I nearly said Papa but then thought better of it, afraid Lucia would think I still harbored sentiment for my old life. “What does Antonio have to do with it?” Lucia shook her head like I was foolish for asking then turned from the window and walked back to me.

“When Antonio discovered the truth of your birth father he set up a meet between Lucio, your guardian, and you. It was all a ruse to blackmail Lucio with photos of you and him together. Of course that didn’t work, but discovering I’d kept you alive made him…angry.” She touched her cheek as if recalling the memory. “When I confirmed it, I thought I would lose you for good.” Lucia placed her hand on my cheek and I dug my fingernails into my palm, fighting the urge to jerk my head away. I looked to the right of her head, close so she would think I was still making eye contact, but far away enough that I could stomach her touch. It was still early in the morning and as the winter sun slowly rose, it illuminated her perfect ringlets like pieces of molten silver.

She continued. “I didn’t hear anything for almost two months. I was put on lockdown and I assumed you’d been killed.”

“What happened?”

“Sofia De Luca,” she responded simply.

“What?” How the fuck did Sofia fit into this?

“Have you heard the story of Sofia De Luca?” I nodded. “Well, then you know how it ends. The only reason you’re alive, bambina, is because of Sofia De Luca, because Lucio’s sons Emilio and Alessio aren’t.” My confusion must have showed because she elaborated. “By the time you were revealed to Lucio, years had passed since the end of the First Blood War. Lucio had no heirs, no wife, no sons—nothing. You were it, and even though you were nothing but a girl, you were all he had.”

The air in the room was too thick, taking up too much space in my lungs.

I had to sit down.

I walked over to the bed and put my head in my hands, struggling with the weight of the revelation. It was like my very existence had cursed Gabby and her entire family—first her mother, then her brother, then her very life. Anteros had told me about the false history, but I never thought about it that way. If Sofia, Emilio, and Alessio had lived, I would have been murdered as a child.

Lucia sat next to me, her weight dipping the bed. “Lucio created the rumor and the rest is history.” She placed a hand on my cheek again. “You should have had a very different life. You should have been a princess, but Lucio couldn’t see past his desire for a prince. I tried to give you a normal life, but your guardian fell in love with a man who liked to hit women.”

“What?” I stood from the bed so quickly I nearly tripped over the plush white rug at my feet. “Are you saying Papa killed my—” I nearly said mother, but I stopped myself. I had a feeling if I called her my mother, it would destroy whatever I had built with Lucia. The question was a stone in my gut, though. It suddenly made sense, why Papa never liked to talk about it, why the whole fistula thing never made any sense. Mom hadn’t fallen down anything.

When would I stop being so stupid?

“I’m saying that stupid girl fell in love with a hitter. When you fall in love with the wrong people, you pay prices.” She gave me a pointed look.

Taking deep breaths, I turned my attention to anything else in the room. The birdie clock still hanging on the wall. The alarm on the nightstand. The double doors guarding the wardrobe—were there still clothes inside? I had to keep it together. We had a plan. The plan did not involve slapping Lucia in the face.

But how dare she say those things about my mother?

She tilted her head like she could see the itch in my palm.

With a slow, deep inhale, I lied. “I’m tired of the past, of being tied to people who are dead. I just want to be family.”

* * *

Slowly Lucia stood from the bed, grasping my hands. “Tonight we will slay the Beast and finally be a family.”

“How?” I asked, hoping she would spill the details.

Instead she pulled me into a hug and whispered into my ear, “In time.” She held the hug a moment longer than I wanted. My skin crawled, her muggy breath too hot on my ear, her Chanel No. 5 like funeral flowers in my nose. When she released me, I fought the urge to suck in breaths like I’d just been underwater. She walked to the door and held her hand out to me. I had no choice but to grasp it and together we walked back to the foyer.

Right before we arrived, she gripped my arms and said, “Whatever happens out there, remember bambina, I love you. I have always loved you.”

I remembered the words the woman had yelled in the shipping container: someone who loves you doesn’t put you there. I thought Lucia did love me in way, but it wasn’t the way Mama had loved me, and it wasn’t the way Anteros and I loved each other. It was a twisted, ugly emotion she called love because she didn’t know anything else.

I glanced down the hallway, where Nikolai held a gun to Anteros. I bet Anteros’s parents thought they loved him too.

Smiling thinly, I said, “I love you too.” The words tasted like rotten milk on my tongue.

When we got to the foyer, Lucia slapped me across the face, winked at me, and pushed me to my knees next to Anteros.

“You must pretend to be upset,” she whispered.

“I think I can manage,” I said wryly, rubbing my cheek.

If Nikolai heard anything, he didn’t let on. I was pretty sure he was too busy focusing on Anteros, anyway. As Lucia went to stand by the stairs, he bent to Anteros, putting his lips to his ear and gun to temple.

“You slaughtered my family,” he whispered, so low he probably thought only Anteros could hear. I quickly looked forward. “You kept me slave and now I’m going to do what you couldn’t do with Lucio. I’m going to take your fucking crown.”

See, now that’s what I was talking about—finally someone said stupid shit about their master plan.

Nikolai stood up and adjusted his suit, walking to join Lucia. I tried to discreetly lock eyes with Anteros. I wanted him to know that Lucia trusted me. We were actually fucking doing this! Our insane plan was going to work and we were going to get out of this alive. I strained against my periphery, trying to make eye contact, when a voice drenched my veins in ice water.

“Oh, isn’t this a fucking party.”

Slowly Anteros and I both looked up to see the person in the room with us.

It couldn’t be—he was dead—but somehow, insanely, he was. Standing at the top of the stairs, elbows on the railing, watching us with a grin.

Crazy A, alive.