14. Galena
GALENA
I lias’s brothers weren’t what I expected.
While they were both giants, like he was, they had such opposite personalities that it threw me.
Kostas was a little shorter than Ilias, but wore glasses as he worked behind his computer screen and smiled at me like we were chatting at a bookstore about characters rather than about mobsters.
Vaso, on the other hand, was obviously the jokester of the family, irreverent with laughing eyes that crinkled at the corners and an easy charm that never once edged into discomfort.
He made offhand jokes about their strict Greek grandmother, who used to throw wooden spoons like daggers.
He did it as if he were trying to force a reaction from me.
I guessed that, based on what Ilias had told me, the Greek grandmother story was just that, a story.
Still, it had the desired effect — to make me laugh.
The brothers moved with an unspoken rhythm, glancing at me without hovering or crowding. I appreciated that more than they could know. I didn’t want a wall of eyes on me while I sifted through the faces of men who might’ve destroyed my life.
After a few hours, we eliminated some of the mafias that Kostas had wanted to start with, including one linked to a Commission member.
I was relieved when we got through those men.
I hadn’t said it aloud, but that worry had been twisting in my stomach since yesterday—that maybe someone in this found family of theirs was connected to the worst day of my life.
I had wondered what they would have done if it had been one of their own, but I hadn’t dared to ask.
We still had to go through my brother’s bratva, but they wanted to start with the Italian mafias first, which made sense.
We demolished an entire pan of some gooey casserole Ilias had reheated from the kitchen downstairs—cheese, herbs, and something warm that finally made my stomach unclench. I’d had two Cokes, grateful for the sugar keeping my brain sharp.
And then it happened. I’d been waiting with baited breath for it, and scared the entire time. Torn between hope and something else.
When the next image came on screen, my breath caught, and the taste of soda turned sour on my tongue.
My fingers clenched the edge of the chair, nails digging into the fabric. I leaned forward so quickly that the laptop screen wobbled. Kostas’s hand shot out instinctively to steady it. “I know him,” I whispered. “Stop.” The air shifted.
Ilias was there in a heartbeat, crouching beside me with his hand on my knee, hot and comforting. Kostas muted the music, and Vaso stopped chewing halfway through another piece of pita bread, suddenly very still.
“Galena,” Ilias said slowly. “Take your time. You don’t have to?—”
“No.” My throat burned. “I know him. I saw him. That day in the alley. He was one of them.” The memory crashed through me.
Blood. Screaming. My mother’s hand yanked from mine. I shot to my feet, nausea surging like acid. I backed toward the nearest wall, bracing my hand against it, breath coming too fast, too shallow.
“Hey, hey,” Ilias said quickly. “It’s okay, liakáda . You’re safe. We’re right here with you.”
I wanted to believe him, but my body screamed, run, hide, fight , like it had the night it all went to hell. I shook my head hard, fists clenching. “He was there. He was there and he was smiling . Like it was a show while they punched and kicked. Hurt us.”
Kostas turned the laptop around so I wouldn’t have to see the image again. Vaso silently passed me a cold can of soda from the table and gave me a little nod, like just hold onto something real . “Take a sip. I’ll get you an ice pack for the back of your neck.”
I clutched the can in both hands. Pressed it to my chest. Tried to find oxygen. Three things I could see. The can, Ilias, the table.
Ilias stepped close enough that I could feel his body heat, his large frame just within my reach.
He was practically vibrating, and I could tell he wanted to pull me into his arms. The thing was …
I wanted him to. Or maybe I wanted to pull him toward me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Something told me he could take these feelings away. I felt like I was drowning in them.
“You’re sure?” Kostas asked gently. I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. “We can find him,” he said, not bragging, but confident.
This was where the departure happened between my two lives.
One where I had been the scared girl with nothing but a storage locker, and this new life where I had people in my corner, treating me like I mattered.
I moved my eyes up to Ilias’s. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he didn’t need to.
His eyes spoke volumes. He was already stepping into the fight for me.
I took a few deep breaths as I let myself calm down. I was okay. They were here with me.
We settled back at the table with the laptop closed and a bowl of ice cream when the chimes rang through the house.
Ilias had shown me earlier how you could check who was at the door in every room with a fancy security camera or talk to them on the intercom.
I could see from where I was sitting that a man with a briefcase was standing next to the pair of security guards.
His face tipped up to the camera in a frown.
“Mr. Anthakos, Judge McTiernan for you.”
“Thank you, Spiros.” Ilias depressed one of the buttons on the panel, and the front door buzzed open .
Kostas had already gotten up from the table. “I’ll go get him.”
Butterflies swam in my stomach as I snuck a peek over at Ilias. Was I really going through with this? It seemed like I was.