𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞
I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner.
Francesca "Frank" Monroe. One of the most successful criminal defense attorneys in the history of Illinois. The woman everyon...
"You can go a long way with a smile. You can go a lot farther with a smile and a gun. You can get further with a kind word and a gun, than you can with just a kind word."
- Al Capone
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I stormed out of Conor's mansion, my blood fucking boiling and my chest feeling like it was being ripped apart.
Sliding into my car, I gripped the wheel so hard my hands shook. The engine roared as I peeled out of the driveway, the dark streets blurring past like some twisted fever dream.
My father's voice echoed in my head like a curse I couldn't escape: "Family is everything, son. You always forgive your family and stand by your family. When the world turns against you, you'll always have your family."
What a load of shit. My family-my Uncle, my own goddamn flesh and blood-had been playing me for years. Running a coke empire behind my father's back and getting him killed in the process. And now I was supposed to stand by that? Yeah, fuck that noise.
I was too caught up in my own spiraling thoughts to notice the black G-Wagon blocking the road until it was too late. My foot slammed the brake pedal, tires screeching as my car skidded to a stop.
Two figures lay sprawled in the middle of the road. One of them clutched the other like his life depended on it.
I was out of the car before I even realized what I was doing. The closer I got, the more the scene snapped into gut-wrenching clarity.
Noah. He was on his knees, tears streaking his face, cradling Frankie against his chest. Blood was everywhere-on the asphalt, on his clothes, pooling around the bodies of half a dozen dead men scattered nearby. Empty bullet casings glinted under the streetlights.
My stomach twisted as I stumbled closer. "Frankie..." The word barely made it past the lump in my throat.
Then I saw her face.
Bruised. Bloodied. Too fucking still.
My chest caved in, breath locking in my lungs.
Noah looked up at me, his eyes hollow, like a man whose soul had been ripped clean out of him. He tried to speak, but all that came out was this broken, shuddering gasp.
I dropped to my knees, hands shaking so bad I could barely reach for her. I needed to touch her, to feel her fucking heartbeat, to know she wasn't-
No.
No, no, no.
Her skin was ice cold.
Something inside me snapped. My vision blurred, rage and terror crashing into me so fucking hard I thought I might black out. She couldn't be gone. Not Frankie. Not her. She was the only thing keeping my miserable existence from spiraling into complete goddamn darkness.
Panic lit a fire under me. I grabbed for her, trying to find where the fuck she was hurt, but Noah wouldn't let go. His grip was a vice, like he'd rather die than let her go. He just sat there, rocking her, whispering this broken, haunted fucking mantra over and over again.
