Anteros went to his bedroom and the shirt she’d worn to sleep was on the floor. He picked it up, pressing it to his face as he slid into a chair. It still smelled like her, just fucking Frankie.
At first he wasn’t planning on following her, just had to know she was safe. The car he’d given her had a GPS tracker installed, and he wanted to be assured she’d made it to her destination. As he opened up the application, though, he realized he wasn’t sure where she would go. She wouldn’t return to Lucia’s—she didn’t have anywhere to go. The application said she was at some gas station on the outskirts of New York, and it was then he remembered he hadn’t given her any money either.
Anteros sat in the chair, staring at the unmoving dot for an hour. Either Frankie had run out of gas, or she was in trouble. Either scenario didn’t bode well for her.
“God fucking dammit,” Anteros said to himself. Fuck her love. He should have kept her in a cage. He’d been so worried about losing her, he hadn’t realized setting her free may have cemented her death. He stared at the motionless dot for another two minutes then stood up without thinking twice. Throwing on a pair of jeans, he went to the garage.
After Frankie took the car, that only left the BMW he always kept in the garage for emergencies. He grabbed a black jacket, threw on some leather gloves, hopped on the bike, and pulled out of the garage. It took him a little over an hour to reach where the app had pinned her. It was a shit hole, the only gas station for miles but the actual station was boarded up, the pumps automatic. Anteros steeled himself for the worst—stations like these were abandoned for a reason.
His car was parked next to the side of the building. Pulling off his helmet, he went to inspect. Blood stained the asphalt, a fucked up breadcrumb trail as he made his way to the McLaren. Red smeared the windows, completely obscuring his view. It was a horror show. He gripped the metal roof, stomach roiling. What had happened to her?
Then he heard a groan.
A male groan.
Looking more closely into the car, he saw the source: missing an eye, barely alive, and looking like a complete waste of life. Anteros grabbed him by the collar and tugged him out.
“What have you done with the girl driving this car?” The man only groaned in response. His eye was a garish, oozing mess—disgusting to see, almost more disgusting to smell. “What have you done with her?” Anteros gripped his collar tighter, shoving him against the car.
“That bitch took my eye,” he mumbled. “Fucking cunt.” Frankie had a darkness inside her, but she wasn’t like him. She didn’t kill without reason…yet. She wouldn’t have taken this man’s eye unless she’d been provoked. Keeping his grip on the hideous man’s collar, he examined him, imagined what could have gone down to provoke Frankie to take an eye. Nothing good came to mind.
“What did you do?” Anteros grated.
“Fucking cunt,” the man responded, groggy. He was out of it, in too much pain. Good. Anteros dropped him to the asphalt. A deep part of Anteros wanted to put a bullet through another eye, but the man was in a delirious amount of pain, and that was an even worse punishment. At this abandoned gas station where probably no one would visit, he would slowly waste away.
Still, as Anteros walked back to his car, he stepped on the man’s neck.
Without a GPS to track, Anteros was completely in the blind. Frankie hadn’t wanted to be followed. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to be free. From him.
Fuck. That.
Anteros planned his next move as he watched the one-eyed asshole roll around on the ground in agony. Frankie had no money, meaning she couldn’t get a plane tick
et. No money also meant no hotel. She wouldn’t go back to Lucia’s. There was really only one place Frankie could go.
Anteros put his helmet back on, straddled the bike, and pulled onto the freeway, headed toward Jersey. He wove in and out of the few cars on the road, going so fast the air cut into the skin at his neck, and arrived at Antonio Notte’s home quickly. When Anteros arrived, he could see the door ajar from the street. It just got worse as he walked up the cracked, sloping steps.
Fresh drops of blood pelted them like raindrops.
When Anteros stepped inside the house, it was hard not to remember the day that had started everything, when that defiant, beautiful girl had given herself to him—but shit, the place was an absolute mess. Bloody footprints covered the floor, too many to count. Pillows were ripped open, their feathery guts blowing with an unseen breeze. Lamps were smashed, glass shattered in all directions. Anteros immediately headed to Frankie’s room. Her pictures had been torn from the wall, ripped into shreds—but the room was free of blood, at least.
He gripped the frame.
What the fuck had happened?
He heard a creaking behind him and expected—no, hoped—it was Frankie. He turned around, hope shattering.
“Levi Luchessi,” Anteros replied. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” Anteros wasn’t sure what Levi had planned for him and really wasn’t in the mood for this shit; he didn’t have fucking time with Frankie possibly injured.
“We found the bodies of the Wolves in the Hudson.” Levi rolled his shoulders, crisp suit wrinkling, and came closer. “I was worried you’d met the same fate. I’ve been searching high and low for you.” Thanks to Frankie, Anteros knew the truth of Levi, but the man clearly had no idea. Anteros folded his arms, listening, learning.
“I’m fine,” Anteros responded. “As you can see.”
“Yes,” Levi said. “I can.” Strained silence fell between them. Neither said anything about the fact that they were both in Frankie’s house, surrounded by chaos and blood. Neither asked why. They just stared into each other’s eyes—Levi’s narrowed, Anteros’s open and betraying nothing. Anteros never gave away what he knew, he wasn’t about to start now.
“Business is good,” Levi said at last, breaking the silence. “I’ve made a new deal with The Institute that they were more than eager to accept.”
“Good,” Anteros clipped. Anteros didn’t have patience for a chess match. He’d come to Antonio’s for a reason. Pushing past Levi, he continued his exploration.