“Why?”
Finn stares at me, his lids heavy with the alcohol coursing through his veins. He doesn’t answer me, he just stares at me for a long time before speaking.
“You can’t fix me. Women always think they can fix us. So let me save you the trouble. I’m fucked up, mean, and hard to be around. I can’t give you anything.”
I swallow. His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“So you know what we are?” I ask, not knowing if he or Cillian have noticed. Alphas have a far better sense of smell. Hell, Cillian probably knew the moment we met—they both have to know.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t be what you want me to be, ever.”
I laugh sardonically.
“Then why keep me here? Why lock me away? Why do any of this?”
“You want out of your cage?” he asks calmly, so calmly that I’m scared something in him is about to switch.
He pulls out his wallet, digging out all the cash he has before pulling out the keys to his car.
“Take it,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing them into my hands. “You don’t want to be here? You want to fucking start a life with some Alphas who can take you away from this fucked up world? Then go.”
I hold the keys to his car and the couple thousand dollars in my hand.
“I’m sure you can find some poor bastard to make you a new ID. Just fucking go.”
“This isn’t a trick?” I ask, the heaviness of his keys feeling like a lead weight.
“It’s not a trick. Just fucking leave, Elena. Go.”
“You won’t come looking for me?”
“I can’t promise what the others will do, so you better hurry the fuck up,” he sighs, resting his head on the back of the couchagain, looking absentmindedly at the ceiling. “I can’t fucking go through this again. Just leave,” he whispers.
I debate on grabbing anything, but truthfully, I don’t have much here. All the shit I ordered will be delivered over the next few days.
Finn grabs his phone and opens the security app, and I watch as he disables multiple cameras and locks. “You have three minutes,” he states to the ceiling.
I don’t waste any of them. I don’t even get shoes. My feet just carry me to the garage door that’s off the kitchen. There are eight cars in here, and when I click the unlock button, my jaw drops.
I’m glad I didn’t tell him that I’ve only driven a golf cart before as the lights to the BMW Z4 flash. I adjust the driver’s seat significantly and realize it’s a push start. The engine revs, and I wince, worrying someone might come barreling out here to drag me back into the mansion.
My hands shake as the garage doors open for me. No doubt, Finn’s doing.
I take a deep breath as I lightly touch the gas with my bare foot. It doesn’t go anywhere, and I curse as I put the car in drive. Slowly, I leave the garage and make my way down the driveway.
It feels like my heart is going to beat out of my chest when I make it through the security gates of the neighborhood, and I’m finally on the open road.
Then it hits me that I have no phone and not a single fucking clue of where I’m going. Or what I’m doing, did I really just leave there without a plan? A-fucking-gain?
So I just drive.
I’m not sure if it’s because it was the last place I went in a car or an unconscious need for closure. But I find myself at my father’s cemetery. It’s, of course, closed at this time of night, so I have to park outside of the front gates and climb over them.
It takes me a moment to find his large, over-the-top headstone. I laugh a little when I see it. Matteo Amante was always larger than life, and this marble monstrosity proves that.
There are no flowers on his grave, and I feel guilty over it as I sit down to run my fingers over the indented letters of his name.
“You left a real mess, Pápa.”
