Page 87 of Frank's Felon
“Yes. In fact, I’ll prove it. You still want Frank? You can have him. For a month. Then, if he’s alive, he returns here.” Damien rose from his chair and towered over Sloan. “As for Delilah, if you want her you’ll have to find her yourself. I won’t do your dirty work for you, even at the cost of this treaty. I was hoping—still am hoping—that you see enough value in this treaty to want to move forward. I’ve done all I can do at this point, Agent Sloan. Delilah Matthews is gone. You want Frank, take him, but don’t ever try to threaten or hold anything or anyone over this pack and my allies ever again.”
Sloan turned to Frank. “You’d come with me still? Cooperate?”
For the first time in a long time, Frank had faith in Damien. He still didn’t know how much of this Damien had planned, or what his end game was precisely, but if it meant Delilah was gone, safe from Sloan, Frank would go along with anything Damien wanted.
“If my alpha orders it, yes.”
Sloan’s eyes moved from Frank to Damien. “Mr. Black, I need to speak with my people. I’ll return by end of the week.” He faced Frank again. “As for you, Mr. Connelly, I may take you up on that offer. I’ll let you know.”
Sloan left with Jace following him out the door to ensure the agent went straight to the gate.
“Everyone except Frank, clear out,” Damien ordered, his tone harsh and unforgiving.
As Blade and Hayden left, reality was sinking in. Delilah was gone. Frank was relieved she hadn’t gone with Sloan, and it appeared the treaty would go forward, which is what she wanted, but already he missed her. As for going into service for Sloan, Frank really didn’t care at this point. It was just a job. If serving under Sloan helped the pack, then so be it. He wouldn’t give the agent any trouble unless the man continued to pursue Delilah.
“I meant it when I said I’d go in her place,” Frank said. He was still standing by the wall.
Damien released a deep breath and headed for the kitchen. He grabbed two beers, popped off the caps, and headed back to the table where he set one down and then sank into a chair with the other. He motioned to the beer for Frank.
They hadn’t sat and talked as friends in a long time. This was odd, considering everything that had happened lately.
Promise me, Frank. Delilah’s words struck him at that moment. She knew. . . His Delilah had planned on leaving all along, but she had kept him in the dark. Why?
Because she didn’t want him to go with her. The truth hurt. A lot.
“She left without me,” Frank said as he righted one of the other chairs, took the beer and sat down. He held the cold bottle against his head. The cool glass felt good, but Frank had no desire to drink.
“She did,” Damien said. “But Sloan doesn’t have her. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And no. I wanted her. I guess I wanted too much. I’m happy she’s free, but it. . . Hell, I don’t want to think about any of this.” His Delilah had exited his life as unexpectedly as she had entered it.
“Then tell me why Hayden says we need to talk. Why you attacked me. Not Sloan, but me. I’ve lost your trust at some point, Frank, and I think it was long before Delilah arrived here. Help me understand what’s going on with you. I can’t doubt my head guard. Whether Sloan takes you or not is irrelevant. If I can’t trust you, and you can’t trust me, then we endanger the entire pack. And I can’t, I won’t, allow that.”
Promise me you’ll speak with Damien. Say what you need to say, but stop punishing yourself.
“You left me in there, Damien. Five fucking long years.”
Damien’s hand sifted through his hair as he shook his head. “I tried, Frank. I know it doesn’t mean as much since I failed, but I really did try. Every lawyer I went to turned me down or ran off with the money. The WSSO knew you were there. Hell, they planned it. They were using you as bait to get to us, to break us, as much as to break you. They could have easily thrown you in on murder charges, but they needed you in a lower security prison. You and the others certainly left enough bodies behind when you and Takara escaped, but anything as severe as a murder charge would have brought too much attention to their own activities. So, they threw you in with general population on grand theft auto.
“Takara wrote letters, and Hayden had our shifters mailing them from different towns, but I’m guessing they stopped the mail from getting through at the prison itself. We had no one on the inside. No connections, no way of getting anyone in. Maybe if we’d had Kate back then to hack into personnel files, it would have been a different story. While Takara tried to maintain contact, Callen, Blade, Hayden, and I worked on a prison break. Blade even made it into the prison, did you know that?”
He hadn’t. He hadn’t known any of this. He had thought they’d forgotten about him. Except for the few letters he had received. Seven in five years. He had truly thought they hadn’t cared.
“Blade said he caught your scent, but couldn’t get eyes on you, let alone reach you. But the intel he brought back was invaluable. This was a year into your sentence. Progress was slow, but at least we were making progress. Three months later, we attempted to get you out.”
Frank recalled just after his first year anniversary in prison that the prisoners had heard shots. Lockdown was fast, brutal even as several prisoners were trampled. Overzealous guards beat and scrambled to get everyone to their cell. He had never heard from the other prisoners or guards of an attempted jailbreak. But they had definitely heard gun shots that night. They’d assumed a prisoner had gotten hold of a gun, or a guard had gone a little crazy, maybe been drunk.
“Despite all our planning, everything that could go wrong did. After the fact, we suspected that we had a leak somewhere. Never did figure it out. Now, looking back, I’d wager it was Ian or Rinn. I was shot twice. Harris and Rick were killed.”
“Harris? Rick? I was told they were killed by hunters.”
“That’s what we told the pack. Only a handful knew what happened.”
“Why hide this from me?”
“I know you, Frank. You’d feel responsible. The same attitude that landed you in that prison would make you feel responsible for their deaths. I didn’t want you to carry that burden, blame yourself. Their deaths, and our failure to get you out, were on me, no one else.”
Frank took a swig of his beer. This was a lot to take in, and so far from what he had expected Damien to say. Frank didn’t know what to make of it, or how he felt. He really wished Delilah was here. The world made sense with her around. Now, everything was just a massive heap of confusion.
