Chapter 3 Ares
ARES
Three Weeks Prior
The Kalamata estate in Greece was my father's favorite place outside of Chicago.
Especially this study, with its imported dark mahogany paneling and bookshelves that climb inward toward the ceiling like praying hands.
Decades of cigar smoke linger in the fabric of the curtains.
The floor-to-ceiling windows face the sea, but today, a storm rolls in—black clouds that match my mood.
Across from me sits Stavros Petrou, head of the Petrou family, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, his expensive watch gliding from side to side as he speaks. He's been talking for ten minutes straight about loyalty and tradition. I've said nothing.
A week ago, my father, Vasilis Kastaris, was gunned down in his own city. Assassinated.
His blood hadn't even dried when I became the don. While I was raised to sacrifice everything for the family—groomed to take over one day—I thought I had years before I actually did.
Now I've inherited a fractured domain, and I have to fix it fast or risk losing the groundwork my father laid.
And I will not let that happen.
My brother Theo sits to my right, nodding to Stavros, but ever since we buried our father yesterday, he's been analyzing everything, mapping out every possible move on the board.
"The port of Nafplio is already being contested," Stavros says, leaning forward. His cologne is too strong. "The Zervas family moved in before your father's body was cold."
I take a sip of whiskey—my father's favorite. I love the burn.
"And you think this concerns me?"
Stavros blinks, taken aback by my dismissive tone.
"With respect, Ares, it should concern you greatly.
Your father built an empire that stretched across the Peloponnese, with strongholds all the way up to Thessaloniki.
Now that he's gone, every small-time operator with a few guns and a grudge is testing the boundaries. "
"Let them test," I say. "They'll learn."
The corners of Stavros's mouth tighten. He expected desperation, for me to grasp at any offer of help now that I've been thrust into power. But desperation is a luxury I discarded at my father's graveside.
"The Petrou family has always been loyal to the Kastaris," he continues. "Your father understood the value of our alliance to keep things in order here in Greece."
Theo shifts in his seat. A warning. We both know Stavros isn't here out of loyalty. The Petrou family is powerful in their own right, but not powerful enough. They need us more than we need them.
"And now you wish to formalize that alliance," I state flatly.
Stavros nods, relief flashing across his face. "Yes. In these uncertain times, we must stand together. Stop the smaller factions from rising up. Stop the Zervas family from trying to take what your father built."
Thunder rolls outside, the first drops of rain spattering against the windows. The storm is here.
I set my glass down. "Three days after my father was murdered, the Zervas family moved on our shipping lanes. Two days after that, the Leventis brothers tried to take our warehouses in Patras."
"Which is exactly why—"
I cut him off. "And the Petrou family did nothing. You waited. Watched. Calculated the odds."
"We were grief-stricken—"
"Bullshit. You were hedging your bets."
Stavros's face hardens. He isn't used to being spoken to this way, especially not by someone he still sees as Vasilis's son rather than the don.
"We're here now," he says firmly. "Offering an alliance that benefits us both."
Theo finally speaks. "An alliance requires trust, Stavros. Trust is earned."
"We've been allies for generations—"
"When it suited you," I correct him. "When it didn't, you stayed out of it."
Stavros exhales through his nose, his patience thinning. "What would you have us do to prove our loyalty?"
I lean forward. "Tell me what you're offering."
"Full integration of our operations in the eastern territories. We control five ports that would complement your shipping routes. Our men become your men. Our resources become Kastaris resources."
"And in return?"
"Protection. Security. A seat at the table when decisions are made."
I exchange a glance with Theo. It's not a bad offer on the surface. The Petrou family does control strategic locations that would strengthen our position during this vulnerable transition.
"There's something else," Stavros adds. "Something more permanent to bind our families."
"And what would that be?"
"Marriage."
Stavros only has sons, so…
"You want our sister, Calli?" I ask. "Absolutely not."
Stavros waves his hand.
"No, my niece, Katerina."
"Your niece?" Theo's voice cuts through my thoughts.
Marriages have sealed alliances in our world for generations. The proposition itself isn't surprising.
"Katerina is twenty-seven. Beautiful. Well-educated,” Stavros spreads his hands. "A perfect match for someone of your stature, Ares."
I take another sip of whiskey. "I don't need a wife."
"With respect," Stavros counters, "you do. You need stability. You need heirs. A marriage between our families would send a clear message to everyone in Greece and beyond, especially the Zervas family."
Theo leans in. "He's not completely wrong."
I shoot him a glance. My brother is my right-hand man, always thinking multiple moves ahead. He means well, but overthinking destroys him at times.
"Why would I want your niece?" I say finally.
Stavros hesitates, then chooses his words carefully. "Because she understands our world, not just from growing up in my family, but from what she's been through."
I pause mid-drink. "What do you mean?"
Stavros shifts in his seat. "When she was fourteen, her parents and younger brother died in a house fire, leaving her the only survivor."
My interest sharpens despite myself. "A fire?"
"Yes. A terrible tragedy." He nods, his expression arranged in sorrow. "She came from the US to Greece to live with me. She keeps to herself. A little meek, reserved, but you can mold her into whatever you want."
I lean forward. "Who started the fire?"
The question catches him off guard. He blinks rapidly, his facade cracking just slightly.
"What?"
"The fire that killed her family," I clarify, my voice dropping lower. "Who started it?"
Stavros sighs. "They never found out."
I hold his gaze, watching him. There's something he's not saying. In our world, coincidences rarely exist. Accidents are rarely accidents.
"And after all these years," I say slowly, "you've decided your niece would make an excellent wife for me."
"It would cement our alliance permanently. Blood ties are stronger than business agreements."
My father's killer still walks free, and here sits Stavros Petrou, offering me his niece like a sacrificial lamb. Is this opportunity or distraction?
"What does she think of this arrangement?"
"She understands her duty. She'll do as she's told."
Theo leans in. "Brother, not ideal, but this alliance could solidify your position at a critical time. The Zervas family is preparing to move against you. Everyone knows it."
I shake my head. "Why isn't Katerina married yet? At twenty-seven?"
"I've been protective of her," Stavros says, clearing his throat. "After everything she's been through, I wanted to make sure she was paired with someone worthy."
"And now I'm suddenly worthy?" I don't hide the mockery in my tone.
Stavros holds my gaze. "You're the don now. You need a wife. You need heirs."
I take another sip of whiskey. "Show me a picture."
Stavros pulls out his phone, slides it across the polished mahogany table.
A woman stares back at me—dark waves of hair, striking cheekbones, full lips, eyes like black glass. She isn't smiling. Her expression is either defiance or resignation. I can't tell.
Something stirs within me.
I hand the phone back without comment. "I agree. I'll take her as my bride."
Stavros's posture loosens with visible relief. "Excellent. We can arrange the ceremony quickly."
"Good. I don’t like to wait. The wedding will be here in Kalamata, not Chicago."
"Of course." Stavros nods, already mentally rearranging whatever plans he’d had.
I take his hand, my grip firm. "To loyalty."
His smile falters for just a moment before he regains his composure. "Yes. To loyalty."
As he leaves, escorted by one of my men, Theo remains seated beside me.
"You don’t trust him," he says once the door closes.
He knows me too well.
"Do you?" I counter.
Theo shrugs. "I don’t trust anyone outside you, Dimitri, or Calli. But strategically, the alliance makes sense."
"And the girl?"
"A necessary complication." Theo stands, smoothing his tailored suit. "You need a wife. Better her than some Chicago socialite who knows nothing of our world."
I nod, finishing my whiskey. "Find out everything you can about her.”