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.

“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.

“Francesca?” Lucia peered at me, grip tightening on my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is all very overwhelming.” It wasn’t a complete lie, and Lucia herself had said the best lies have a grain of truth. She placed a hand on my back, rubbing it gently, maternally. I saw what I had to do—what she would expect of the daughter she’d built in her mind, the little girl held captive. In a flash, I shrugged her off and stood up off the bed. Taking the clock off the nightstand, I let out a harsh, frustrated-sounding scream and threw it to the ground. It shattered on impact, jagged glass shards splintering across the floor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I lied, pretending I was just some child who couldn’t handle her emotions. I went over and pretended to pick up the pieces, grabbing a jagged piece and hiding it in my fist. “We’re in the room where I was held captive and the monster who kept me here is out there. I’m tired of pretending to love him to survive. I just want to be with you. How much longer do we have to wait to be a family?” I spun around to face her, wiped away invisible tears from my cheek.

The corners of her eyes crinkled and she stood up as well. “I know a thing or two about pretending to love a man to survive, Francesca. I loved Lucio, but the Family insisted I marry others. After the fourth died, they stopped insisting.” She came to me, arms opening up in a hug. “When we’re together, it will just be us.”

This is it. I thought I’d feel more scared or hesitant. There was definitely a small part of me that shook, but it wasn’t from worrying if it was right or wrong, it was because Lucia was a kingpin. She was the head of the snake, and I was about to cut it off.

Her thin, bony fingers grasped my back, pulling me deeper into the embrace. Her creamy pantsuit pressed against the gown she’d forced on my body. Her breath was like swamp air on my neck.

I’d always wanted a real hug. I’d stayed in her hell hoping she would give me this hug and I’d be complete, but her hugs were a lie, her promise of family was a lie, and I was so done with lies. Anteros was family. His arms around me didn’t complete me, they helped me find completion within myself.

This was more than cutting off the head; this was pulling out the roots of a rotted family tree that had been stunting my growth so I could finally blossom.

I gripped Lucia back, holding on to her neck, and said low in her ear, “I’m not Francesca Valeria Notte. I’m not Francesca Valeria Pavoni. I’m just fucking Frankie.” Then I drove the jagged edge into her gut.

* * *

I shoved the glass deeper, gripping her neck tighter, the hairs at the nape curling into my grasp. Lucia made a harsh, swallowing sound, like she was breathing water from the oxygen in the room. She dug into my back and cut my skin. Then she let go and I was the only thing holding her up.

Still in our twisted hug, I fell to my knees with Lucia. I had a brief, fleeting thought: this was the only type of hug Lucia and I should ever have. Bloody. Deathly. A final ending.

I pulled the glass from her stomach, watching the cherry red blood run down my hands. I couldn’t really believe it. I’d done it—I’d killed Lucia.

When I’d told Anteros I needed to be the one to kill Lucia, I’d never really believed I could do it—sort of like dreaming to be a rock star. You could try and try for fame, but once you become famous, you wouldn’t believe it. Our entire plan hinged on hope when our entire relationship had always had none, when my entire life had been devoid of it.

Yet I stared at the cherry red blood seeping onto my hands, forcing myself to acknowledge that for once I had hoped and that hope hadn’t been shattered.

“Francesca…” I looked down. Life was stuttering out of Lucia, a light bulb flickering and about to die. Red stained her creamy ivory suit, and I thought it was fitting that at least she would die wearing the Pavoni colors. She raised her hand off the floor, using all of her strength to get me to bend down to her.

I really didn’t want to do it. I wanted to walk out and leave her—leave everything she represented. She was the old life, a life without hope. Hoping to find family. Hoping to belong. Hoping for safety. Hoping and always ending up shattered. I bent down, though, because even after everything, a small part of me was still curious.

“What?” I spat, putting my head closer to her lips.

“You were my reason for everything, bambina.” She reached her hand to me, bloody from her abdomen. It was sticky and wet against my cheek. I didn’t immediately pull away, struck by her words. When the light faded from her eyes, I sat back.

At the angle I sat, my dress stretched, the seams groaning but not ripping. I was mesmerized by Lucia. Even death couldn’t take her grace. Then I remembered Anteros in the library. Our plan wasn’t finished yet; we still needed hope.

There was a gun gleaming in a holster attached at her waist. It was gold—of course it was gold. It was so small, barely the size of my hand. I didn’t even know they made guns that small. I quickly grabbed it and tucked it into my breast, inside the lingerie she’d also forced me to wear. Standing to my feet, I smoothed my hands over the lines in my dress, trying to see if the gun was visible.

If you really looked, you could see it. It was impossible not to with such a tight, semi-sheer dress, but I hoped again that no one noticed. All we had was hope, after all.

I looked back at Lucia. Red blood had stained almost all of her cream jacket. Even though she was dead, I needed to say the next words. It had to be in the world, in the universe, so the atoms, molecules, fate, Jesus—whatever—knew.

“Reason is just another word for excuse. There is only one person who has ever been family, and he’s in the library prepared to die for me. That’s fucking family.” I finished on an exhale, not even realizing I’d bent over her. The gleam of the Pavoni pendant caught my eye and I quickly snatched it off her dead body. Just as I’d clasped it, the door opened.

Nikolai leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “You’ve just made my job easier,” he laughed then walked to me and grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me out of the room. I nearly tripped over the length of my gown, but steadied myself just in time.

We walked down the shadowy hallway, past huge abstract paintings that had terrified me before I knew the meanings of the furious red and black slashing of paint, before I had felt the essence to my core.

“It’s just like old times,” Nikolai hissed as he dragged me back inside the library. I didn’t say a thing in response, just glanced out of my periphery to see if he had any hint of the gun in my dress—by all indications, he didn’t. It wasn’t like old times, not in the least. Nikolai had played all-knowing before, and that had scared me. It had seemed like he had all the answers, but he was just a little boy trying on his dad’s ties.

“Except this time,” Nikolai said, throwing me to the library floor, “I have the power.”

* * *

I rose to my hands and knees, gun still in place. I wanted to tell Anteros, wanted him to know the plan was working, but he and Crazy A were in the middle of a heated conversation.

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” Crazy A said. “So you might as well shut the fuck up.” I’d only been gone a few minutes, but in that time something had gone down between them. I desperately tried to put the pieces together.

“Think about it, Alcide.” Anteros distanced himself from me and the fireplace, getting closer to Crazy A. “When did all of this start happening?” Crazy A looked from Nikolai to me, gaze frigid and emotionless. That stare used to send shivers down my spine. It used to make me turn away in fear. Now the only reason I turned away was so Crazy A didn’t get suspicious.

I focused on the rug, remembered the night Anteros had taken me on the floor. If I died in this room, it wouldn’t be so terrible. This had been the first place my heart bled for him, I could accept it being the place my body bled for him as well.

“What the fuck is going on?” Nikolai stepped between Anteros and Crazy A, head swiveling between them. Clearly whatever had happened had gone down within the tiny space of time Nikolai went to get me. Crazy A ignored him, shiny black shoes walking closer to me.

“I’m done playing your game,” Crazy A said, still talking to Anteros. “I’d like you to play mine.” Slowly, I looked back up, inhaling sharply. I knew our hope would run out eventually, and now it had, just inches shy of the barrel of his gun.

“Nikolai is the one you have issues with,” Anteros said easily.

“Wait what?” Nikolai looked from Anteros to Crazy A, putting it all together. “Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s turning us against each other, trying to save his fucking princess. This is all bullshit.”

Anteros laughed, folding his arms. “Nikolai is not your ally, Alcide, he’s the leak. He has been working with Lucia and wants to take over—”

“You were a slave just like me,” Nikolai interrupted. “You took the throne, just like me.”

“He’s poisoned us against each other,” Anteros continued, ignoring Nikolai. “He helped her escape and orchestrated this entire ordeal. He made you believe I love this…” Anteros finally turned to me, but it was only to scowl. “This thing. He made me believe you were the leak.”

What the fuck? I tried to get Anteros’s attention. What was he doing? Was it some kind of plan? We hadn’t discussed it beforehand and he wasn’t giving me any signals.

Trust him. I had to trust him. There was screaming in my head and the oxygen was thin, but after everything we’d gone through, I had to trust him. Whatever he was doing, it had to be for a reason. Even though the words he spoke felt like knives, I had to trust him.

“That’s not fucking true,” Nikolai said, looking from Crazy A to Anteros. With the gun still on me, eyes dark and frigid on Anteros, Crazy A didn’t acknowledge Nikolai as he reached into the holster at his waistband and grabbed a knife.

The knife—the one confiscated from Anteros’s boot when we’d turned ourselves in. The one I’d used kill Big O, carve Anteros, and then Anteros had used carve me. Seeing Crazy A hold it filled me with irrational rage.

Crazy A tossed Anteros the knife. “Prove it.”

* * *

Anteros caught the knife with ease. He turned it in his hand, steel catching the light. I was still trying to wrap my head around everything, disbelieving that so much had happened since I’d been gone—but then, in the minutes I’d been gone, I’d become a murderer. No doubt about that. It wasn’t an accident like with Big O and Gabby. It wasn’t self-defense like at the gas station. I was a murderer.

Anteros continued to study the blade, and I thought he might be second-guessing what Crazy A had told him to do. After all, he wouldn’t stab me, right? Seconds later, Crazy A echoed my thoughts.

“Change your mind?” he laughed, a sound like antifreeze for the soul. Anteros looked at me. It was only a split second, barely even a glance, and I couldn’t decipher anything from it.

I wanted to let him know it didn’t have to be this way anymore. I had a weapon. We had leverage now. I was covered in blood—my mother’s blood. I’d cut the ties to my family once and for all, and I wanted to stand with Anteros.

My chest pounded as he got closer. I opened and closed my palms, focusing on the way the beads from my dress dug into my knees. Whatever Anteros was doing, I had to trust it.

“Are you serious?” Nikolai’s incredulous whine cut in, but I wasn’t focusing on him. I was locked on the way Anteros took slow, even steps, as if counting each one. “You’re really going to forget everything he’s done for her? You’re going to forget that he tried to kill y—” Crazy A turned and shot the ground where Nikolai was standing, only millimeters from his foot, cutting him off. Nikolai jumped back and yelled, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“You’re just figuring that out?” Crazy A didn’t spare him a glance, voice even and steady as he put the gun back to my temple. I wanted to scream that I had a gun, I just didn’t know how without drawing attention and getting us both killed right away.

After what felt like an eternity, Anteros reached me and roughly pulled me off the rug. I wasn’t brought into an embrace; he didn’t even make eye contact with me. He appeared every bit the callous, calculating monster I’d met at the beginning.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t stab me, but Crazy A was going to shoot me. If I could just tell him about the gun… Filled with madness, I reached for him.

“Anteros I—”

Crazy A shot the ceiling above us one, two, three times. Plaster rained down on our heads. I flinched like a coward. The time had come—I was going to die. After everything, after killing Lucia and finally getting together with Anteros, it would all be for nothing.

I just wanted Anteros to look at me, so I could share this last moment with him.

“I don’t give a shit about her,” he said. Gruff, hoarse—razed was how I would have described Anteros’s voice. Nothing would grow there.

And then he stabbed me.

Pain. Blinding pain as the blade cut through my flesh and dove into my side. My hands reached out, overlapping with his as he plunged into me. It wasn’t to stop him, but to desperately reach for any kind of connection, something to let me know this was just part of the plan. At last Anteros looked at me—no, in my direction, giving me nothing to tether myself to in my final moments.

He pulled the knife out and I fell to the ground.