Beauty, a Hate Story the End

“Fuck. You.”

He laughed again. “There are no bad guys in this world, Frankie, only winners.”

I stood up, getting angry. “I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m telling him everything.”

“You act like the needle is all you’ve done. You’ve been helping me take down Beast since you arrived at the penthouse, and now that you’re with Lucia, I was able to plant a bomb in his car, was able to trap them at The Catacombs.” There’s a difference between being a pawn and actively taking someone down, but in the end, he was right. I hadn’t told Anteros about the leak, and when he’d specifically asked me, I’d lied. Somehow I’d crossed the line beyond blackmail and had started actively betraying him.

I wanted to scream at Nikolai that I’d already planned to tell Anteros everything, even if it meant he hated me forever, but I didn’t know Nikolai’s endgame. A gun bulged against his jacket, and I knew he could easily kill me.

I ground my teeth and asked, “What’s your point?”

“I have no choice but to give you all the credit. I was stuck in that penthouse hellhole for years looking for a way to break him. Then one day you showed up and everything fell into place like serendipity. You really are the reason for everything, and thanks to you carving your fucking initial into his chest, he trusts me more than anyone.” I was about to argue. That at least, I was going to argue. That brand was for us and I wasn’t going to let Nikolai worm his way into it, but I was interrupted.

I was too busy focusing on Nikolai.

Too busy trying to argue because with each word Nikolai spoke, I knew he was right. I should have just told Anteros. My stupid fear of losing him had not just jeopardized us more, but had hurt him. While I was busy arguing to save my world, I didn’t realize it had already collapsed.

“Well…” All the breath left my body at the voice. I spun around, turning to see Anteros standing in the middle of the aisle. “This is interesting.”

“Anteros,” I gasped. My head swiveled from Nikolai to Anteros. How much had he heard? How the fuck did I even explain this? Anteros’s face told me everything. It was beyond ice, beyond stone, just a black void that sucked me into the nothingness. I wanted to reach my arms out to pull everything he was sucking out back in, but at the same time…

I deserved it.

“You said you needed me,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me—wouldn’t look at me. His brow glistened in a way that broke me because it said he’d run fast after he got my text. My heart shattered into a billion pieces.

He’d come. He’d come back for me and said our love was everything, and I’d proven that we were nothing more than lust and lies.

I only had myself to blame.

Eleven

Anteros only heard the last part of Frankie and Nikolai’s conversation, but it was enough. She’d colluded in everything—the needle, the bomb, fucking trapping him at The Catacombs. At first he didn’t believe it, but Frankie’s response was etched into his skull.

What’s your point?

“This isn’t—it’s not—just let me explain!” Frankie gripped the pew until her knuckles whitened and the pads of her fingers welled with blood.

“So Nikolai isn’t a traitor with my…” Anteros trailed off, voice low and rumbling, hardly more than a growl. He wished he could contain the emotion in it, but he was so fucking weak. What did he call her? She was his heart, but he couldn’t say that. Not after what she’d done.

She still wore his fucking shirt, but now it was stretched so he had to see the lie on her chest. That had been his breaking point. The only reason Frankie had even fucking carved her initial was so he would trust Nikolai. Everything between them had been a complete fucking lie, a ruse.

Anteros ground his jaw, focusing on the bite of pain the pressure made. He was a complete fucking idiot. He’d known their love would destroy them, he’d just assumed they would be together for the destruction.

“No! Nikolai is a fuckhead but I’m—” She broke off, words ending in a sob. She swayed where she stood and grasped the pew for support. Worry flooded him but was evaporated by anger just as quickly. Why the fuck did he still care?

“I was coming to be with you.” She walked to him and attempted to grab his shirt but he acted like she was contaminated. He thrust her off and she stumbled back, nearly falling over. Concern knotted his chest again—why couldn’t she stand?

“I was going to tell you everything,” she continued.

He laughed acidly. “You’ve really played your part well.”

“There are no parts,” she beseeched. “It’s just us. It’s me.”

“Congratulations on exposing me.” His words were caustic, corroding the very air. “You’re the first.”

“I didn’t…that’s not what…I…” Taking a breath, she jutted a hand out and steadied herself on the pew. “We’re at war!” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “What did you think would happen?”

He laughed and nodded slowly, devoid of any emotion. This was his fault anyway. He never should have trusted her. Love had never been part of his life, he shouldn’t have assumed it ever could be.