Chapter 34 Katerina
KATERINA
Isit, staring out the window. The lights smear across the glass as I blink hot tears down my face. I don't wipe them anymore—there've been too many.
My throat throbs where his fingers pressed. Each swallow is a reminder of what happened, of how quickly things shattered between us. I trace the tender skin with my fingertips, wincing at the contact.
I should leave this room. It smells like him—his scent and cologne are everywhere. But here in our room, at least no one will disturb me with pitying glances or useless advice.
"Fuck," I say, giving in and wiping some tears from my cheeks.
I swear I still feel the sting on my palm from the slap, a phantom sensation that won't fade. I've never hit anyone before. Not like that. Not in anger.
And I don't know what hurts more—the possibility that I've been wrong about George all these years, or the realization that Ares could turn on me so quickly. I'd thought we were building something. I'd opened myself to him, shown him parts of me no one else had seen.
And he'd put his hand around my throat.
I'm not wrong.
But even as I think it, doubt creeps in, because Ares is getting to me. Of course he is—he passed all my defenses.
I've been drowning in grief since I was fourteen. Maybe I didn't see George clearly. Maybe I saw what I needed to—a kind face, a connection to my father.
No.
Ares is the one who's wrong. Blinded by grief and the need for revenge. Seeing conspiracies where there are none.
Shit, how did I get here?
My wedding day felt like it was happening to someone else. I was so empty then, so resigned. And somehow, since then, Ares made me start to feel again. To hope again. To believe that maybe this forced marriage could become something real.
But I was a fool.
I think about my scar. The part of me he'd claimed to find beautiful.
Lies.
The truth is, Ares Kastaris doesn't want a wife or a partner. He wants a subject. Someone to rule over, to control. Someone who won't question him or challenge his vendetta.
Is this who he's always been? Was I just too blind to see it?
Or was I the one who pushed him too far?
I shake my head violently. I refuse to blame myself for his actions. I defended someone I believed was innocent. That's not a crime.
But what if I'm wrong?
The thought slithers into my mind. What if George really did order the hit on Ares's father? What if he was involved in my family's death too?
My stomach tightens.
What do I even know for certain anymore?
I mean, I wasn't exactly keeping tabs on the Greek mafia while I was trying to put myself back together after losing everyone I loved.
The door opens without a knock.
I tense. I already know who it is.
Ares come in and stops a few feet from me. I don’t turn around.
“I didn’t come here to apologize,” he says. “I came here to move forward.”
"Go away," I say, my voice hoarse from not speaking for so long.
"No."
“Well, you've wasted your time,” I say flatly, not moving from my seat. “Because I’m not ready to pretend none of it happened.”
Ares doesn't speak for a moment. He just stands there, looking at me, thinking. He takes another step forward, and I tense up.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he replies. “Just prove to me you're on my side.” His voice is low, curt. There's no warmth or tenderness that I've grown used to hearing.
It doesn't sound like a peace offering. It sounds like the first move of his strategy.
I turn, slow and deliberate, locking eyes with him. The storm between us is still raging, but now it’s quieter—deadlier.
“How? Act like a good little loyal wife? A pawn? Someone who forgets the bruises as long as her husbands wishes gets granted?”
"If you truly believe George is innocent, then set up a meeting between us."
There it is. The command. The real reason he’s here.
The request hangs in the air between us. I search his face for any hint of what he's really asking, what he's really after, but he's a wall—unreadable, guarded, and all business.
"A meeting," I repeat slowly. "Between you and George."
"Yes."
I rise from the chair and step back, putting distance between us. "So you can kill him? Is that what this is? You want me to lure him somewhere so you can put a bullet in his head?"
Ares doesn't deny it. "I need to look him in the eyes."
"And then what? What happens after you 'look him in the eyes'?" I demand, anger heating my blood. "Do you honestly think I'd set up someone I've known since childhood to be murdered?"
"If you're so certain he's innocent, then what are you afraid of?" Ares challenges. His eyes, usually so warm when they look at me, are cold now. "Let him speak for himself. Let him look me in the face and deny his involvement."
I laugh. "And you'll believe him? Just like that?"
"I'll know if he's lying."
"Will you?"
A muscle ticks in his jaw.
"I mean, you didn't believe me. Even if I set up something, you still won't. This isn't about finding the truth—it's about confirming what you already believe."
"My father is dead, Katerina." His voice drops, dangerous now. "And all signs point to George Zervas."
"All signs?" I ask. "What about the note?"
He takes another step toward me. "Do not tell him or anyone about that note. Do you understand me, Katerina?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone. Even if I end up hating you forever, I wouldn't betray your trust—even if you think that's all I've done."
Ares's eyes narrow at me, and his face suddenly becomes annoying to me.
I turn away from him. "Set up your own damn meeting."
"If I do, it'll raise too many flags. But if you do it? It's discreet. No one will question it."
"So what? I just call him up—'Hey George, it's been a while. Well, my new husband wants to meet you. No, don't worry, he probably won't kill you. Probably.'"
Ares steps closer, his height towering over me. But I stand my ground.
"Do whatever you need to do. Just set it up."
I swallow hard, wincing at the pain in my throat. "If I did this, if I arranged a meeting, you swear you won't hurt him unless you have absolute proof?"
Ares's expression doesn't change. "I won't kill him without proof."
It's not the answer I wanted. But it's the most honest one I could expect.
"I need time to think," I say.
"We don't have time," he counters. "I'm leaving for Kalamata in less than 48 hours."
I blink at him, stunned. "You're what?"
"Dimitri's there now. Theo and I are joining him. War is coming, Katerina. Whether you help me or not."
My stomach drops. "So this is? What? My last chance to prove my loyalty? My last chance to be on the right side before everything explodes?"
Ares doesn't speak.
"And if I refuse?" I ask.
"Then I know where we stand." His words are like ice.
We stare at each other.
I turn away, unable to look at him anymore. The man who held me through my nightmares, who kissed my scars and made me feel beautiful, who saw me—really saw me—is now showing me another side of himself. The don. The killer. The avenger.
“You want me to arrange a meeting?” I ask, my voice tight. “Fine. But I’ll be there.”
"No." Ares's voice is rough, absolute. The don speaking again, not the man who shares my bed.
"Then I won't do it. You said you're already flying out there, so figure it out."
Ares clenches his jaw.
He knows he can’t afford to lose my cooperation. To lose the upper hand.
"Dammit, Katerina." He exhales sharply, the words pushing through clenched teeth.
"So that's a yes?"
He exhales sharply through his nose. “Fine. Set it up.”
The air between us feels different now. Not healed—far from it. But something has shifted. The trust is gone, shattered like glass on the floor between us, but in its place, a strange kind of alliance forms. Two people with different beliefs but a shared destination.
"I'll need my phone," I say, holding out my hand. "I left it in your office after our…" I can't push myself to finish the sentence.
Ares pulls it from his pocket and hands it to me. Our fingers don't touch. He's careful about that.
"When do we leave?" I ask, already scrolling through my contacts to find George's number. It's been months since I've called him, but he always answers for me. He always has.
"Tomorrow morning. Early."
I don't look up. "I'll need to pack."
"Have Emma help you."
"I can manage myself. Do not send her in here."
Ares doesn't argue. He steps back, creating more space between us. "Set the meeting for two days from now. That gives us time to prepare."
I nod, still not meeting his gaze.
"Make it casual. Nothing that would raise suspicion."
"I know how to lie, Ares," I say, looking at him.
He moves toward the door but pauses with his hand on the handle. "I bet…" he says and stops himself. Then turns to look at me. "For what it's worth, I hope you're right about him."
"No, you don't," I reply softly. "You want your revenge. You need someone to blame."
Ares scoffs. "Get some rest, Katerina. It's going to be a long flight."
"This isn’t over between us," I call out to him before he leaves, "Not in the way you think.”
He closing the door behind him without speaking. I stare at the space where he stood, feeling strangely hollow.
I look down at my phone, George's contact information glowing on the screen.
I press the call button before I can change my mind.
I just hope I'm not leading a lamb to the wolves.
That George is innocent.
And that Ares's blind obsession doesn't get us both killed.
The phone rings four times before he answers.