Chapter 31 - Annie
THIRTY-ONE
Annie
By the time I hang up the phone with Izzy, entire wars have been waged, empires have fallen, someone has been stabbed twenty-three times, and I have risen from the ashes and the carnage.
Old Annie? She made a brief appearance—sat at the bar, scoped out someone with decent bone structure and a black credit card, planned to fuck around just enough to get blackout and a free ride home. But she was vanquished somewhere between the lobby and the Amtrak kiosk.
By Sister Annie.
Now, Sister Annie tried to reclaim control, starting slowly, forcing me to lose the dude from the bar, buy my own damn train ticket and sit my ass on the train without getting up except to use the bathroom.
She wanted me to slither back into my hole and be devastatingly crushed that I couldn’t even make it the full year of her that I promised myself.
Short by a few days and a big dick. She wanted me to go back to Rock Bottom, in my parents’ basement, where I could safely remain leashed and caged.
But after sitting on that train, watching Miami slide backwards and behind me?
Only one bitch made it out alive.
Just me.
Annie Li, Chaos Bringer. Screaming and triumphant and feral. I rose from the motherfucking ashes.
Because I was fucking right.
I did the right fucking thing. I trusted myself. I did it all myself—the sum of all my experiences led to that moment right there.
I saved my sister’s ass. This time, though, the self-sacrifice was right. I was my sister’s keeper in an appropriate way.
I kicked Tom in the nuts.
I finally put my parents in their place.
I enjoy a brief, deeply satisfying fantasy of wearing my heaviest boots and stomping on some heads. Old Annie, Sister Annie. Tom. Elodie. My parents.
And one more.
Because I did one thing wrong.
I thought I could just give away my trust and my security to anyone else. Like maybe it was okay to depend on someone else, for once.
Like maybe Nicholas “Nico” Giannuzzi was different.
And I was so very, very wrong.
So it’s back to basics. Me against the world. I polish my claws. Reinforce the steel plating. Harden the fuck up.
I text Izzy. When I get back to the city, I’m moving into your place until I find an apartment, I tell her.
Duh, she replies back.
I left some stuff in my hotel room in my dramatic exit. Will you bring it back to the city for me? I’ll call the front desk.
Duh.
I pull up my contacts. Block.
I pull out my laptop. I email my boss. The manuscript will be ready in a week.
I pull up a contact. Chef@. I hover my cursor above the button next to it.
Block.