Page 272 of When We Fall: Part Two
“It wasn’t Dmitri,” Enzo said, looking over at me. “It was Jake.”
“Jake? What did he say?” I pressed. We’d been trying for a week to figure out who Rosalie was seeing. I meant when I said I’d kill the fucker once I got a name. I knew it was insane, but fuck. She was my girl.
“Well, two things. One, another warehouse is on fire.” Enzo rubbed his eyes. This was the fourth one in a month. We were both banking on Kurt doing it to fuck with us. In addition to that, a fuck ton of Russian bratva were turning up dead, and it wasn’t us doing it. Rumor had it that they were nailed to various pieces of wood around the city and tacked up on walls and shit.
The Carpenter.
I shivered at the thought of how pissed Kurt—Santino— had to be to be making waves like this.
There wasn’t a soul who could tell me it was anyone else, either. Enzo had made several attempts to talk to him, but his number had changed, and he seemed unreachable.
“Great,” I muttered. “What’s the second thing?”
Enzo looked away from me and back to the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the apartment.
“The man Rosalie was with the night she slashed the tires.”
“Yeah?” I stepped forward, my heart pumping hard.
Enzo shook his head. “I honestly don’t know what to make of it.”
“You’re fucking killing me here. Who is it? It was fucking Anson. I’ll kill that motherfucker—” I paced the room, tugging at my hair, imagining various ways to take him out of this world.
“Cole, it was Klaus Seeley.”
I stopped in my tracks, unsure if I had heard him correctly. “What?”
“Klaus Seeley. That’s who she was with that night.”
My mouth felt like I’d been sucking on a cottonball. There was no fucking way Klaus Seeley was the man she was seeing.
“I don’t believe that for a fucking minute,” I snarled. “She wouldn’t fuck him. He’s, what? Like forty? He’s twice her fucking age. That’s some Matteo bullshit right there. No. She’s not fucking him. I refuse to believe that. He’s a fucking enemy, Enzo. She-She wouldn’t.”
Enzo nodded. “I certainly hope not.”
“Call Anson,” I said, hating the words. “He’d know, right? I mean, she’s close with him, and he’s in bed with Matteo. He’d be able to tell us.”
Enzo shook his head. “No. Let it go.”
“What the fuck do you meanlet it go? That’s our girl! Some piece of shit has his hands on her. His cock inside her, Enzo. How the fuck can you just sit back and saylet it go? What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It means it’s over!” he snapped, his dark eyes flashing as he yelled. “Let it fucking go!”
I backed away from him as E came into the room.
“Fuck you. You promised, motherfucker. You said we’d keep her in the end. This is the fucking end, and she’s not mine. If I have to take matters into my own hands, so be it.” I stormed from the room as E called out, asking what was going on. I didn’t want him to hurt more, so I kept going.
I left the apartment with only one thing on my mind.
Getting answers.
I waitedoutside Anson’s apartment for two days in my car until the prick returned home.
The moment he went inside, I was storming up his stairs. I pounded on his door.
He pulled it open and stared back at me with tired eyes.
“She’s not here. She doesn’t live here. I haven’t seen her. Go away,” he said in a monotone, his fucking shirt off.
