He's her enemy. Her obsession. And the only man who has the power to destroy her.
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My name is Frank Monroe, and I am the most dangerous woman in Chicago. Not because I kill, but because I make it legal. I'm the lawyer the Irish mob calls when...
"If you have the woman you love, what more do you need? Well, besides an alibi for the time of her husband's murder."
- Dark Jar Tin zoo
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"You look fucking perfect."
He said it while I was still soaked in the blood of Luigi's man, my lips stained with it, my breath mingling with his. My fingers, slick and red, rooted in his soft, dirty blond hair as I kissed him like I wanted to own him, to mark him in the same way violence had marked me.
And Hector didn't even flinch or try to pull away. He fucking liked it.
Hector Pierce, what the hell were you doing to me?
I wanted to say I was in love with him, that I knew exactly what that felt like, but the truth was, I wasn't sure I even knew what love really was. Love had never come easy for me. It wasn't the kind of thing I grasped the way other people did—effortless, like breathing. There were people in my life whose presence was vital to keeping me grounded, steady, and a part of me knew I loved them, but my love for them had never been soft. It had never been gentle. It had teeth.
Trusting people, let alone loving them, had never been my strong suit.
And Hector?
He made me question everything.
He'd managed to break through the walls I'd built so carefully over the years, claiming a part of my heart I didn't even know I had left to give.
Did I love him? I didn't know. What I did know was that I would kill for him, die for him, without hesitation. Maybe that was love, or maybe it was something else, something deeper, or more fucked up.
But in the end, it didn't matter.
What mattered was that I trusted him enough to show him the rawest, most unhinged parts of me—the parts I'd never let anyone see. And he didn't turn away. He didn't judge me. He didn't love me any less.
No. He just looked at me—like I was the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen.
That day in Goat's basement, when Hector handed me the dagger and let me take my own revenge on the man who'd shot me—that was the moment I knew. This was a man who understood me, who didn't just protect me, but respected me enough to give me the reins when it counted. It drove me fucking crazy for him in ways I couldn't explain.
Being with Hector felt right. Even with everything else—the danger, his uncle, all the shit standing in our way—I knew deep down, this was where I wanted to be.
I wrapped a towel around my wet hair and stepped out of the shower, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The last few days had been intense, but tonight was different. Tonight was about something good. Hector and I had decided to throw Goat and Layla a wedding, and despite the chaos in our lives, I was excited.
