Stockholm Syndrome (Frerard)

Prologue

(A/N: guys I almost sold this book to a company, requiring me to delete it off Wattpad but it made me too sad so I didn't sign the contract. I've been on here too long and the wattpad community is awesome so I'm keeping it here, you guys have got this to 80K reads which is totally awesome and I'm really glad everyone likes it.
I was also advised to edit it so that Frank and Gerard were a straight couple (Frank was a girl lol), and also had to change their names cause they said it would get more traffic which also felt horrible so. Yikes.
Moral of the story: Stockholm Syndrome lives on.)

Media: McCracken

The phone line was silent, except for the shallow breaths Bert could hear on the other line. "Hello?" He repeated a little louder, but still careful to be quiet as he looked over his shoulder into the empty room, just in case.

"What do you want" A raspy voice echoed back. It seemed restrained, damaged, burnt out by years of smoking and drinking.

"Is this.. Is this Zero?"

"What's it to ya?" The voice mocked, teasing. It was the voice of a killer for sure.

"I uh... I have a request." He breathed, not sure of himself. Bert got fucked over bad, he needed to get his revenge. He was nervous to say the least, to be talking to someone who was capable of killing him at any moment

"Yeah?" He coughed. "Which is?"

Everyone in the drug business knew Franklin. He's been around forever. "Well... I'm sure you know who Frank Iero is..." Bert said slowly, carefully.

"Oh, that old dude? You want him dead?" Bert's question was answered, it was, in fact, Zero. The very best hitman in Jersey. Nobody knew his real name, or anything about him, really.

"Not exactly..." Bert sighed, rubbing his temple with his sweaty palm. "He has a son. He's all he has left."

"Oh," The hitman paused, sounding more interested. "So you want him to suffer.." Zero said darkly.

"Exactly. I'd be willing to pay up to $5000." Bert stated boldly, switching his phone to his other ear and crossing his foot over his knee. He'd kill the kid himself, but he couldn't afford to go to prison. He'd much rather have someone skilled do the work for him.

"Good, good... You got any information about this kid?" He asked, before continuing. "How old is he? Where's he live? What's his name?" The guy asked, and then Bert heard a click which indicated that he was now on speakerphone. Zero was probably gonna write this stuff down.

"I uh, I don't know his age.. He's definitely young, like a teenager maybe. 16? 17?" Bert guessed, chewing his lip, raking his brain for any knowledge on the boy. "His name's Frank aswell, he lives with his dad in their apartment." He told him the adress and sighed. It's happening. "Franklin's never there, in fact I know for sure he's doing a drug trade tonight on the other side of town... Tonight would probably be your best bet." Bert informed him, and the killer hummed in content.

"Okay, kid. To you, Frank Iero is dead."

And then he hung up.