“I told her she should open an Italian dessert bar or perhaps work with kids. I know her and Leo got along really well, so I thought she would be good at it.” He wanders back to his coffee.

“Of course she should. She should do both!” I say like it all makes perfect sense, although I need to rub my chest due to the twist in my heart at the thought of her with other kids and not Leo. “Why is she talking to you about this?” I ask, eyeing him. I feel like the two of them are getting too comfortable with each other. Nico jerks back at my comment.

“Why do you think?”

“Explain,” I grit out to him, not liking his tone and not sure I want to hear what he is about to say.

“She cries herself to sleep every night. Does that make you feel better? Yes, she laughs at the TV shows and cooks YOUR favorite meals, but she's not okay. What did you think would happen when you left her in the hospital after ripping her heart out when she just woke up from major surgery? What the hell do want from her?” Nico says, exasperated, and I clench my hands by my sides, the urge to punch him running rampant through me.

Nico looks at me like I am stupid and crazy, and I am both, I know I am, but she lied to me. Although the more I think about it, the less upset I become because worry for her, my love for her, tries to take over.

“She will be awake soon,” Nico says, taking a sip of his coffee, reminding me I need to leave.

I nod. “Call me with anything,” I tell him with a nod.

“Sure thing, boss.” I begin to walk away and out the door.

I need to get my shit together. I need to find and kill Dominic and then I can sort out what to do with Little Red.

Because even though I miss her, I am still not sure if I can trust her.

36

Annie

Raising my arms above my head, I stretch my body slowly as the soft light of the morning peeks through my curtains. I lay quietly for a moment, having a small amount of peace, and then open my eyes and begin to yawn. But then I immediately gasp.

Sitting up quickly, I rub my eyes to ensure I am not seeing things. The wooden chair sits in my room just like it does every night, but resting on the small table next to it is a glass. A whiskey glass.

He was here.