It had been two days since I’d said a lie I couldn’t take back. I never imagined myself as the bad guy. Anteros was always the Beast, the terrible thing that went bump in the night. As I continued to live in this world, though, the lines got blurrier.

If someone betrays me, they die.

I fingered the pendant on my neck, the one I never took off, not even to sleep or shower. Before that phone call, we’d never acknowledged that we were on opposite sides of a war. When he’d asked me about the hotel, I’d had the opportunity to tell him the truth, to tear down the lines and stand in the middle together.

I’d fucking cowered.

Now I sat in the kitchen, reading the same book for the fifteenth time, wishing he would text me. There were no cameras in the kitchen and people rarely came in. When they did, I could always hear them coming, which made it the perfect place to read and stare at the phone.

This was the only place in the entire building that felt remotely normal. The table wasn’t made of expensive wood with intricate carvings. There weren’t mirrors dripping from the ceiling to hide insidious acts. It was far enough away from the club that the music was muffled and almost quiet. It was just a simple kitchen, with a white fridge, and a circular table.

At least, until that day.

With a sigh, I set both the phone and book down and placed my head on the table, feeling the cool paint against my forehead. Lucia only had three books in the entire building: The Count of Monte Cristo, And Then There Were None, and Our Lady of The Flowers—which was the only book I’d never read, but it was in fucking French. I knew that was on purpose. Lucia wasn’t unread, she just didn’t want others to be.

There was no escape from the silence on the other end of the phone. Two days had gone by and Anteros hadn’t spoken to me. Not a text. Nothing. The phone sex we’d had was explosive, world bending. It broke down another wall inside me, flooding my brain and corrupting my body with pleasure, making me a zombie to sensation.

A normal person would think it was wrong to crave the things we said over the phone.

I didn’t want to be normal anymore, but I couldn’t feel the way I did alone. The blank inbox reminded me that just because we’d shared lust, it didn’t change shit. That was all we ever were: lust and lies. I wondered if he knew I was lying. I wondered if it was a test I’d failed.

I felt like a fool again.

I rolled my head to the side and stared out the window above the sink. All the windows were tinted so no one could see inside, but I could see out to the people who didn’t know I was here. Fluffy floral curtains adorned the frame and I wondered what the point was.

“Killing two birds with one stone,” Lucia’s voice drifted through the swinging door. Quickly grabbing And Then There Were None, I stood from the table and was at the door on the other side when I paused. I should have left, should have run anywhere else, but instead I parried into the walk-in pantry. I shut the door quietly as Lucia came into the kitchen.

“I trust there were no complications,” she continued. I could only see a sliver of her back through the crack in the door, silver hair pulled up into a loose chignon, small tendrils falling around her skull. Cream dress, stockings, and shoes—always so put together.

“He was passed out,” Nikolai’s voice carried, and I pressed my eye against the crack to try to see him. I caught a glimpse of his arm, a shiny new watch on his wrist. “It was a tediously simple job. It should put a stop to the flyers, at least.”

“The fifth prong is there for a reason.” Lucia reached out and touched something, but I couldn’t see what. “This particular family has issues understanding that. First the mother, now the son. I truly hope Gabriella does not fall prey as well.” My brow creased, trying to make sense of their conversation. It was so hot in the pantry, with no air flowing and all the leftover heat from the kitchen getting stuck. Sweat prickled my brow and my lower back.

“The seed has been planted,” Nikolai continued. “Levi has given them the false blueprints and they’re planning to head to The Catacombs.”

“When?” Lucia asked. I put my hand to my neck, wiping sweat. I didn’t know who Levi had given false blueprints to or who was planning to come here, but I could take a guess, and the guess was shredding my insides. I listened, drinking the conversation like water.

“Uncertain,” Nikolai replied. Lucia stepped back and then I got a good view of what she was touching—no, petting: Emilio Alessio De Luca’s severed head. Blood dripped on the light blue table I’d only minutes ago been resting my head on. I fell back, unable to control my gasp or movements. Images of the red flyers taped to the door, of Lucia coming undone waving one, and what Sofia had said about the fifth prong tumbled in my mind as I watched from the sweltering pantry. It was disguised as brotherhood, but what it really meant was, Though the De Lucas are the Pavonis’ greatest allies, the Pavonis and the De Lucas can never intermarry for there can be no question about who is the rightful heir. For a brief moment there had been doubt, but Lucia had quickly snuffed it out.

I immediately covered my mouth, but it was too late. I tripped into the wall behind me and boxes of food fell to the floor. I froze as both Nikolai and Lucia turned their heads to the pantry. Lucia whispered something I couldn’t hear and then I heard footsteps, the swish of the door.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as the footfalls got steadily closer to the pantry. Just outside the door, they stopped. The heat was unbearable as I waited for what was to come next. A small bead of sweat dripped down my forehead, but I was too afraid to wipe it away. After waiting an agonizingly long time, Lucia quickly tore open the door. Her eyes traveled the length of me, stopping at the book in my hand.

“Getting a snack?” she asked lightly.

“Something like that,” I responded. The phone was in my back pocket, and if I turned even a little she would see the bulge.

“Why don’t we have one together?” She held out her hand and I had no choice but to take it. Together we walked through the club and up the grand staircase. Fear and adrenaline made everything a blur until we got to the top floor—her floor.

It was my first time in her room and it wasn’t what I expected. It was still huge, but it wasn’t all Palace of Versailles as Lucio’s place had been. It wasn’t even as ornate as mine. The room was decidedly Spartan, with only the bare necessities.

Cookies and milk—fucking cookies and milk—were on a small table. She motioned for me to sit. Stalling for time, I placed my fingers along the wall, feeling the regal textured wallpaper pucker. A gentle, warm breeze from the heater hit my cheeks.

As I took a seat, she said, “You’ve been wanting to know about your family.” I eyed the cookies and milk, wondering if they were poisoned. Lucia sighed and picked up a cookie. It was very thin, crispy. It smelled good, though, like nutmeg. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t had a decent meal since before I’d visited Anteros. Her eyebrows fell into a V at the noise and she motioned to the plate. Reluctantly, I picked one up, but I just put it in my lap.

“When I was very young,” Lucia begun, “I had a child. I never wanted the risk this life brings for my family. My father, the late Lucio Senior, honored my wishes with your mother. Your mother, Isabella, was raised without any knowledge of the Family. Then she had you and things got…sticky.” I frowned, my mother was Valeria, but I didn’t correct her. I had a feeling the mistake was important.

“Are you aware of Sofia De Luca?” she asked.

“Not really,” I lied.

“My daughter, your mother, got pregnant around the time Sofia was enthralling Alessio and Emilio. When Alessio and Emilio killed each other over her, the Pavoni line ended, or so it was thought.” I fought to keep my face blank. I’d read the journal—Sofia hadn’t enthralled anyone.

Lucia took a bite of her cookie and continued. “Lucio was supposed to keep you secret, but he reneged and the rumor got started. That’s all ancient history anyway. My brother has been dealt with.” I thought Lucio was sick, but that was the second time she’d made it sound otherwise.

“And Isabella?” I hedged, testing out the name she’d used. “Isabella was my real mother? The one who died when I was young? Red hair, green eyes?” I wanted to be very specific, to make sure she couldn’t backtrack on the lie.

“Yes,” Lucia said, dipping another thin cookie in a porcelain cup. None of it really made sense. Why would they keep me secret if they wanted to keep the Pavoni line going? I’d seen the photos—why had Papa met with Lucio? But I’d known she was lying from the minute she’d called mom Isabella, so I just held the oily, crumbly cookie and let her talk. Her lies were letting me know more than the truth.

There was something she didn’t want me to know, something about my family that she desperately wanted to keep hidden. She was constructing a whole web of lies around it, and the more she tried to hide it, the more tangled it got.

“I hope this calms some of your questions, and you can rest easy.” She reached out, placing her palm over mine.

I smiled, the stretch hurting my face. “It does.” She showed me out of her room and I made certain to keep my back hidden so she couldn’t see the phone. When she shut the door I stared at the way the faint eggshell-colored sheen caught the light. This was the topmost floor and it was all ivory and gold accents, not even a speck of dust on the crown molding. All the light was natural, spilling in from oversized windows that grew from the floor to the ceiling and gave way to brilliant views of Manhattan.

It was such a stark contrast to the basement, but in a way, it was exactly the same.

* * *

I headed toward my room, but at the last instant, veered into Gabby’s. Earlier that morning I’d snuck down to Papa’s cell; I hated it down there, especially after being imprisoned behind my very own curtain, but I was hoping he could repair some of the light bulbs Lucia kept smashing. Living as a princess in this palace of lies was driving me to madness. It was empty, though, the only sign he’d been there the puddle of piss in the corner.

With Lucia refusing to tell me anything and Papa MIA, I hoped Gabby might give me something. Somehow we were tied together—my family, her mom; I didn’t know how yet, but I was determined to find out. Gabby never liked to talk about it, but she was wrapped up in this shit too.

I pushed the door open gently, calling her name. It was empty. Warm sunlight streamed in through sheer ivory curtains. Feeling defeated, I walked to her bed and sat down. Minutes passed and sunlight swam across the floor in patterns. I wasn’t sure where Gabby was, but her room was without cameras. It was smaller but cozier, and her bed wasn’t as lumpy as mine. The air felt lighter too, but that was probably just in my head.

After a few minutes, I pulled out my phone. The inbox was still empty, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I typed out the words I miss you, but then deleted them just as I finished. I wanted Anteros to miss me first. I wanted to know he missed me as much as I missed him. Two days without so much as a Hey after the words he’d spoken to me, the way he’d made me come—I mean, what the fuck? What was that?

At the same time, it wasn’t fair to want any of that after lying.

I thought about what I’d overheard with Nikolai and Lucia, and I wondered if I should just finally come clean to Anteros. I had no idea what they’d meant, but it had sounded like they were planning something. Whatever it was put a deep weight in my chest.

I started typing again, warning him of something I didn’t fully understand. My hand hovered over the send button just as the door flung open. Gabby rushed into the room and sat on the bed, sobbing. I quickly shoved my phone into my pocket.

“What happened?” I tried to pull her into a hug but she shrugged me off. “Gabby, what—” I was cut off by the telltale click-clack of shoes echoing in the hallway. A few moments later, Lucia was in the doorway.

“Gabriella,” Lucia said sharply and Gabby lifted her head. “It’s time you ended this foolish relationship with that man Levi.” Gabby started bawling again and Lucia came to her feet.

“What the fuck happened?” I asked.

“We wouldn’t want you to end up like your mother.” Lucia put a manicured nail to Gabby’s cheek, gently running it down to her chin. “Such a tragic tale, leaving you motherless because she couldn’t keep her legs together.” I gasped, shocked she’d say such a terrible thing. Gabby hiccupped, wiping snot from her nose.

“How can you even say that?” I blurted.

“We’ll find you a good De Luca husband,” Lucia continued as if I wasn’t there.

“You don’t own us, Lucia,” I said. “We can leave whenever we want. Gabby can date whoever she wants.”

Lucia’s nail at Gabby’s chin was a polished dagger. “You can, but here you’re under my protection. Out there, it’s much less certain.”

“She’s right,” Gabby sighed. “Mother destroyed us. She made the last Pavonis kill each other.”

“She’s not right!” I stood from the bed. “Emilio was a fucking rapist.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say about a deceased Pavoni, about my nephew.” Fuck your nephew, was what I wanted to say, but I’d already said too much. I’d let my emotions get the better of me—again. I bit my tongue as Lucia slowly pulled her finger from Gabby’s chin.

“I’ll find you someone handsome and kind, Gabriella.”

Fucking. Bullshit.

It would be another Giovani.

Lucia unfurled her grip from Gabby, heading for the door. Just before she left, she dug her nails into my arm and whispered, “If you so desperately want to be without me, granddaughter, then perhaps I’ll grant you your wish.” She dropped my arm and left.

When enough minutes had passed that I was certain she was gone, I sat back down with Gabby. “Gabby, what the hell happened?”

“Levi’s advanced in the Family.” Her red-rimmed eyes were trained forward at nothing. “He’s, uh…” She sniffed, swallowing. “He’s—he’s working directly with the Beast to find the mole in precinct 72. He’s in the position Rhys used to have.”

A hushed quiet fell, dead and ugly. There were no words I could use to comfort her because there was no comfort to be had. Levi was working directly with Anteros to find him. There would be no happy ending. The last man in Levi’s position had died.

Gabby was crying and the friend in me said to leave her alone. She’d already dealt with a lot—first Levi then Hurricane Lucia—but Lucia had just reminded me the reason I’d come for Gabby. They told these lies about our lives and expected us to swallow them like cold medicine.

“Gabby, will you tell me the story of your mother?” I hedged.

“Levi said something might be going down here this week,” she mumbled. “He fed the Beast a story about The Catacombs. They don’t know it’s Lucia’s club and I think if it goes well Lucia will let us be together.” She was deflecting but it almost worked. The conversation I’d overheard in the pantry made sense now: they were planning something for Anteros, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I swallowed, possible outcomes working in my mind like a train going off the rails.

Gabby hiccupped and, with a breath, I refocused and placed my hand on her knee. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” She spun away from me and put her head on her pillow. The sun was falling, painting her mussed locks like beams of individual light.

“Mom tempted Alessio and Emilio Pavoni,” she said, voice muffled by the pillow. “They killed each other over her. As recompense, Mom was killed and her newborn child was named Emilio Alessio in remembrance.” I furrowed my brow. None of it made sense. How could Gabby be alive if her mother was killed right after Emilio was born?

“How does that work?”

“What?” She raised her head, looking over her shoulder at me.

“Emilio is how many years older than you? How could you be alive if she was killed when Emilio was a newborn?”

“I—” She stuttered then slammed her mouth shut. Warm brown eyes twitched left and right, working the problem in her head, then her face went flat and she slowly stood from the bed.

“Gabby?” I pressed, voice light.

“Just stop poking into things, Frankie! This has nothing to do with my life. I am happy now. I’m finally happy.” She wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Just let history lie!” Before I could respond she ran from the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that the pictures on the wall rattled.

Gabby wasn’t angry with me, she’d just been force-fed so many lies that truth tasted bitter. Still, her tear-stained face was fresh in my mind, and I hesitated to warn Anteros. I waited until the sun slowly dipped behind the skyscrapers before taking my phone out again.

The Catacombs is a trap.

I hovered over send. If I told Anteros anything, it would be cataclysmic for Levi. For Gabby. Her life had been nothing but pain from birth, thrown around as a pawn for everyone else’s chess match. I’d had a few months of it and I was going insane. That had been her entire life.

With a frustrated groan, I slammed my head back against the mattress. I wasn’t going to send the text that day, but a sharp, barbed thorn poked my heart, telling me I was only postponing the inevitable. Gabby and I couldn’t both have our happily ever afters. Eventually I would have to choose.

* * *

It was almost a week before anything happened and I’d all but forgotten what Gabby had said about The Catacombs. Lucia had been all over me, having me run errands with her, veiled threats looming if I didn’t comply. Her errands consisted of driving to faceless buildings and making me sit in the car for hours while she completed whatever dirty deed she had for the day. So I was momentarily distracted by her and her pointless tasks.

When I went down to the club that day, the place was totally empty. Instead of being alarmed as I should have been, I was relieved. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a box of the cookies I’d had with Lucia. They might have been a symbol of everything I would never have, but they were delicious.

Without darkness, it wasn’t so magical. The lies were stark on the mirrors, smudges visible in the light. I walked by the door to the dungeon and paused, cookie in hand. There was no one guarding it. Worry crept up my spine, but I still didn’t leave, afraid this was another one of Lucia’s tests, afraid if I took the bait, I’d be sent back down to the basement.

I felt like a fucking dog, so I went to a section of the club hidden by mirrors and pulled out my rebellion: the phone.

I miss you.

The black letters blared on the blue screen, but I couldn’t send them. Throughout the week, there’d still been no word from Anteros. I’d gone a month without seeing him, but once we’d met again it was like pulling apart atoms. I wanted to be strong, but he was fire and I was iron. My strength didn’t matter; I would always bend to his command.

I sent the text.

No sooner had I shown my cards, than I heard a loud bang followed by a huge rumbling beneath my feet. The dangling crystals and quicksilver mirrors rattled around me, tinkling like wind chimes. I stilled, wondering what the fuck had just happened. It was possibly construction outside, but my gut said otherwise, and seconds later it was confirmed when soldiers came rushing from all directions.

They came pouring out of the basement and the kitchen, tearing automatic weapons from their shoulders, rushing forward like warriors on an ancient battlefield. I briefly wondered if the sound I’d heard was someone opening up a goddamn wormhole. They knocked into me, uncaring, and I felt like a pinball. Cookies fell from my hand, breaking into pieces on the milkyway floor just as someone gripped my wrist.

“Why are you still here?”

I stared into his hazel eyes, recognizing the color—Levi. What the fuck was happening?

“What do you mean why am I still here?” As far as I knew, I was still the princess prisoner, sucking spare bits of freedom like a dog swallows air from an open car window.

“You should have left with your grandmother this morning.” I reeled, actually threw my head back. No one had said a thing about leaving.

If you so desperately want to be without me, granddaughter, then perhaps I’ll grant you your wish.

I was so afraid to leave, I didn’t realize staying was Lucia’s punishment.

“You need to get out now,” he said. “This is no place for a civilian.”

“Wait—

“Get out now,” he said then disappeared into the chaos just as gunfire broke out.

Shit.

* * *

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I ducked under a table and hid. Dozens of boots tangled together and then bodies started falling to the ground. Lifeless eyes stared back at me. I clapped a hand to my mouth and closed my eyes.

I couldn’t believe Lucia actually wanted me to die, so there had to be a way to get out. Just like with the basement, she only wanted me to see what it would be like without her.

Fucking psychopath.

Thirty minutes passed, maybe forty, before I opened my eyes again. After the first ten minutes, the gunfire died down, but the occasional pop still sounded. It was like after the Fourth of July when one asshole kept firing off fireworks a week after the holiday ended.

By the look and sound of the action, everyone had moved upstairs. I didn’t know how long they would stay there, but once they came back down I’d be caught. It wasn’t the table that had kept me hidden but the chaos of the fight.

It was like counting thunder. Five minutes after I heard the last pop, I slid out from under the table and ran to the front door. Blood and bodies were everywhere and I had to awkwardly run and jump over them to get to the door. I pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck?” I tugged, shaking the handle, but it wouldn’t open. My heartbeat matched the handle’s loud rattling as I realized there was no fucking way it was opening. An ear-ringing pop sounded and I threw my head over my shoulder, expecting soldiers to come flooding down. When a minute passed, I released a breath and looked to my left.

The basement.

I knew for certain soldiers were upstairs, their gunshots and boots a furious thunder. Maybe there were some quietly waiting downstairs, but staying and tugging on a locked door was certainly suicide.

Bodies cluttered the stairs too, thankfully none of them women—I was dreading the idea that Lucia had left them there to be killed. I searched their faces, scared I would see Papa’s staring back, then it hit me—the reason Levi thought I should be gone, the reason Papa was gone, the conversation I’d overheard in the pantry, the one I’d had with Gabby—this was what they’d been planning.

Suddenly I was searching the faces for one in particular, fear burning acid holes in my gut. What had I done? This was entirely my fault. This all could have been avoided if I’d just sent one fucking text.

I didn’t see Anteros or any of his Wolves among the faces, only soldiers littered the stairs—so many that I had to grip the handrail for support as I stepped over their faces. They were all nameless, but their faces stared back, gaping. I would remember them forever.

It was dark at the bottom, the type of darkness you feel like velvet on your skin. I quickly pasted myself against the wall when I heard grunts and banging—there were still people fighting, five of them. As my eyes adjusted to the little light, I realized it was just one person fighting the other four.

The one didn’t bother with weapons, opting to use his hands. As one enemy fell, he grabbed another. Someone came flying at him from the side, screaming and running at full speed with a knife. The man easily sidestepped the assailant, grabbed his neck, and slammed his head into the wall, causing him to fall to the ground in a heap.

Only the one remained, standing above the felled bodies, legs spread, fists at either side. The sudden end of the fight was marked by silky quiet. I studied the shadow of the man, hulking but somehow carnal. I should have been afraid, but my fear was displaced by a yanking deep in my gut. The air was all at once sizzling and heavy, my breath humid, and then it hit me.

Anteros.

The realization, the relief that he was alive, hit me like lightning. Even obscured by shadow my body called to him. I should have been disgusted, but watching Anteros destroy those men twisted me up. It stirred feelings I’d tried to deny when I’d murdered Big O. Alive. Invigorated. Invincible.

Only a shred of light penetrated the darkness, but that light was captivated by Anteros. When he put both hands in his hair and pushed the strands out of his face, it practically lavished his biceps.

I must have sighed because he spun around, instantly on alert. I pressed myself against the wall, fingers splayed. I was nervous he wouldn’t recognize me but more than that, I was thrilled. I throbbed. I ached. He was here and we could finally be fucked up together.

I couldn’t see anything but the massive silhouette of him standing above the piles of bodies. Only the shadow of his head peered at me through the darkness. The seconds he took to decide who I was were agonizing. In those seconds he watched me, though, something changed. Suddenly we weren’t breathing alone; we were sharing one breath.

He closed the distance, pushing me deeper into the wall so I felt every muscle of him and every groove and divot of the stone behind me. His hands came to my waist, ran up my sides, grazing my breasts, too short and quick before he raised my arms and pinned them above my head.

“You need to get out of here,” I whispered. “What are you doing?” It was fucking insane. We were enemies. Everyone was fighting. Even in the darkness we could get caught, but as he pushed my arms against the wall, I didn’t fight it. A smile crept to my face.

I loved it.

His lips hovered above mine and he said, “Taking what’s mine.”