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Invitation

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Chapter 12: Invitation (Dante's POV)

After coming home that night, I needed a distraction, something that could take my mind off of Anastasia and all the thoughts of her that drove me mad. 

I had forgotten what it was like to have the mere thoughts of someone affect me like this, and it certainly wasn't something I missed. I had no intention of reliving my torture, but fate had other plans. 

With no other distraction worthy of my time, even after coming home, I continued to work on the case. I searched through all the evidence we had gathered so far over and over again, hoping something would stand out and provide a solid lead. 

Our priority was to find Monica Coleman, the gallery owner. Anastasia and I already butt heads and couldn't determine if she was more likely to be a suspect and an accomplice or another victim. 

Both of our instincts always lead us in opposite directions, and when we used to work together, it was advantageous because we would both be willing to explore each other's theories, but now it was all about proving the other person wrong. 

Arrogance and ego wouldn't get us anywhere. Not that I was one to talk; more than half the time, I was practically overflowing with them. It was past midnight, and I ended the night exactly where I had started it, with no further clues and not one answer to a question. 

Releasing a breath, I stood up and moved to go to my bedroom, but just as I did, my phone rang with an unknown number flashing on the screen. I answered, "Hello?" Mere silence greeted me in return. Pulling my phone away, I glanced at the screen in confusion, and doubtfully, I put the phone to my ear again, waiting to hear a response. 

Despite the silence, I could faintly hear the sound of steady breathing. Before I could press for an answer, someone scoffed, letting out a dry, dark chuckle, and then hung up instantly. My phone pinged with a text immediately after from the same number, and the message read very precise words. 

Monica Coleman. Hotel Allure. Room 322. 

Dread pooled in the deepest pits of my stomach as I realized once again just how dangerous the person we were dealing with could be. "Fuck," I cursed, grabbing my car keys and phone, rushing down the stairs and out of my apartment, getting in the elevator. 

On the way down, I tried Anastasia's number once and then again when she didn't answer. "Goddamn it," I mumbled, running out into the parking lot and getting in my car, speeding out, and heading straight for her apartment building. 

Instinctively, I knew something was wrong, and my very first thought was that perhaps Anastasia had been right. But if she was right and if Monica Coleman really was just another victim, then this might have been our final chance to get to her. Or... perhaps we were already too late. 

If that call and that message were from our culprit, as I suspected, then it was highly likely that we would walk into that room to a sight we were unprepared for, a gnarly and gruesome scene just like the gallery. Or if she was an accomplice, maybe her partner had outed her. On the way to Anastasia's apartment, I tried her phone repeatedly. 

I swear to God, I must have called her at least a dozen times by the time I covered the short ten-minute drive from my place to hers. 

Leaving my car out front, not caring about whose way I was in, I practically ran inside the building and got on the elevator, going straight up to her penthouse. It didn't hit me until I was at her front door that... something could have happened to her too. I knew just how much she despised me, but I would never expect her not to answer my calls at a time like this, especially when we were together on a case so crucial and complex. 

I rang her doorbell once, then twice, and then a few more times, desperately hoping she would answer. She didn't. My fingers twitched and hovered over the digital number lock, wondering if I should test the combination I knew and barge in or not. 

Fuck, what if something happened to her? I don't think I could survive it...

Just when I was about to, I heard the elevator open behind me. Her steps slowed, then she halted altogether, leash still in hand. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

My chest practically collapsed with relief the moment my eyes landed on her. 

Fuck. Thank God.

I stepped toward her but was immediately stopped by the vicious Dobberman growling at her feet. "New puppy?" I asked. 

She stared at me with a mix of disbelief and confusion etched on her face. 

"I got a call," I clarified, "possibly from our culprit. Then a message reading, 'Monica Coleman. Hotel Allure. Room 322.'" 

Realization settled across her features. "Shit," she cursed, rushing past me to unlock the door and quickly unhooking the leash, tossing it inside and letting the dog in, closing the door behind him and turning back to me. "Why didn't you go straight to the hotel? You're wasting time!" she scolded, getting back on the elevator. 

I slipped in beside her. "I called you," I said sharply, "you weren't answering." 

"I left my phone in the apartment," she mumbled behind her palms, dragging her hands down her face in annoyance. "Why did you come here?" she groaned, facing me. "Do you have any idea how much time we could be losing because of this?" 

I couldn't help but scoff. "Really, Ms Vitalio? I thought I taught you better than that. No matter what the situation may be, we never go to an unknown location alone. Not knowing who sent me the tip and with no guarantee, I could be walking into a death trap if I went alone." 

"And now what? We both could be walking into the same death trap together?" 

"No," I exhaled, "now we'll call for backup on the way there. In case you forgot, we're partners. I couldn't leave you behind, could I? You would have my head on a platter if I did," I said, shaking my head. "If you would have picked up my fucking calls, we wouldn't be having this problem." 

"I told you I left my phone behind," she huffed. "Next time, I'll just give you a heads-up, hmm? I'll tell you about every little thing I'm about to do just in case you call," she bit out sarcastically. 

"It's my fault now, is it? I didn't know if you weren't answering on purpose or if you didn't have your phone. I thought you either deleted my number or something happened to—" I cut myself off sharply the second I realized what I was about to spew out. 

Her eyes drifted to mine. Her gaze softened for a second, only for a second, and before I could even blink, it was gone, replaced by her rigid and fierce gaze once again. "I can take care of myself," she said as the elevator stopped. 

"I'm aware," I breathed out as the doors slid open. Leading the way, both of us slipped into my car, and I drove out, tossing my phone in her lap. "Call Marshall," I instructed, "tell him to send backup." 

After a beat, she asked, "Still the same password, huh?" 

I glanced at her briefly. "Is that what's important right now?" 

"I'm already calling." Marshall took a while, but he finally answered, and Anastasia told him everything on the phone, demanding backup at the hotel. 

Enough agents had already arrived for backup by the time we reached, and most of us rushed to Room 322 while a few agents remained downstairs, searching the lobby and blocking the exits. Some of us questioned hotel staff, others went to question some guests. 

The air was charged with adrenaline, and Anastasia was so engrossed in it that I had to physically stop her from breaking into the room. My hand clasped hers as I pulled her back in place. "You're not armed," I reminded her. "Neither am I. We'll stay back." 

"But what if—" 

"Don't argue," I said sternly, squeezing her hand in warning. "We'll stay back." I gestured for one of the agents with us to proceed. When no one answered the door upon knocking, it was forced down by two agents. "Wait," I told Anastasia again when she moved toward the door. 

I was very aware of every inch of her palm and the way it fit in mine, of the way her soft skin brushed against the calluses on my palm, even the way her fingers twitched slightly in fear and anticipation. I should have let go before she noticed. 

"All clear," came a voice from inside the room. 

Anastasia raced forward, her hand slipping out of mine. I followed behind her, clenching the same hand into a fist before relaxing it again. 

Fuck, I hate what she does to me. 

The entire room had been ransacked, things thrown around, and lamps broken. A woman's belongings, I could only assume they were Monica's, were still scattered around the room, her suitcase included. 

"What the hell happened here?" Anastasia mumbled. 

My eyes drifted to the blood-red envelope, secured with a gold seal, sitting on the nightstand. Brushing past Anastasia, I picked it up and tore it open, a defeated sigh escaping me as I scanned the words. "You've got to be fucking kidding," I exhaled, running a frustrated hand through my hair. 

"What? What is it?" she asked. I turned the invitation to show her. Her brows twitched up. "An... invitation?" 

"The Revival. It's a gallery down on Park Avenue. It's been there for years but shut down recently for renovation," I informed her. "It's just a few minutes from the first crime scene." 

She paused for a minute. "You don't think it'll happen again this soon, do you?"

"The chances are high," I admitted. 

She shook her head slowly, "No, no, no. Even if we treat it as a serial killer, the cooling period can't be this short. It's only been three days." 

"Maybe three days was all they needed to get their next victim," I mumbled softly. 

"How could it be planned so quickly?" 

I scanned the room again. "It was already planned..." The dread pooling in my stomach grew tenfold for entirely different reasons. Maybe this was more fucked up than we had perceived it to be and far more dangerous than we knew. 

"We have to go," she said, "tomorrow night, to The Revival. We have to go." 

"For now, we have to get out of here. Let the agents investigate," I said firmly. 

"But we can't just—" 

"We have to go, Ms Vitalio," I said more sternly this time, taking her hand in mine yet again. "It is highly likely that we're being watched right now, and if it's not safe here for you and me, then we will not stay. So do as I say. You're coming with me." Holding on tightly, I pulled her out of there with me, and we left. 

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Chapter 12

Even though a lot happened in this chapter, it was kind of a filler, so just WAIT till the next one. It's going to be so good

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