Book 2 - Theo’s Story
Theo
The man is already bleeding when I step into the warehouse.
I shrug off my jacket, tossing it over a rusted hook by the door. My dress shoes make a faint sound against the cracked concrete as I walk toward him.
His head jerks up at the noise. One eye is swollen shut, blood crusted thick along his temple. He's breathing hard through a broken nose, blood bubbling faintly with every shallow inhale.
When his good eye lands on me, recognition flickers across his battered face, and with it, the desperate edge of fear.
He's slumped in the chair we bolted to the floor, wrists zip-tied behind his back, mouth torn raw at the corners from when one of my men got a little too creative—or bored—waiting for me to arrive.
Yannis.
That's his name. But names don't matter here. What matters are the numbers, the transactions, and the shadows shifting behind the accounts.
I drag a chair across the floor, the metal shrieking, and set it directly in front of him and sit. Like we're two old friends catching up over coffee instead of separated by power and the inevitability that only one of us is walking out of here alive.
I study him for a moment as one of my men steps forward, hands me a manila folder, and returns to guarding the door.
"Yannis, I'm—" I say.
"Go fuck yourself," he says, interrupting me and spitting blood at the floor. "I know who you are."
I smile, slow and cold. Some may think I should put a bullet right in his head for that level of disrespect, but not me. No, that response tells me he's scared, he's lost, and I've won. I mean, I'm not the one tied to a chair.
"You work for Sebastian Makris," I say.
His lip curls. "Worked. Past tense."
"Ah yes. My brother made sure of that, didn't he?" I say with a laugh and open the folder. "Anyway, you're running the Athenian Warriors now, I hear. Good thing you weren't at the restaurant that night we stormed it or I wouldn't be talking to you now."
Yannis spits more blood onto the floor. "You think you're scary because you pay someone to smash my face?"
I lean forward slightly. "No. I'm scary because you're still breathing."
He swallows. I let the silence linger for a moment and look down at the papers I'm holding.
"You can make this easy, Yannis. Just tell me who's been depositing those payments."
"I don't know what you're talking about." His swollen eye twitches. "Besides, even if I did, they would kill me if I—"
I lift a hand, silencing him. "Right now, I'm the only one you should worry about killing you."
I jab the corner of the folder into his ribs, making him flinch.
"You see, I have a problem. I traced all these deposits made to Athenian Warrior accounts through Athens Central Bank. Big numbers. Clean laundering. Whoever's backing you has money and reach."
I shove the page in front of his face so he can see it.
"At first, I thought it was George Zervas."
His face twitches, betraying a flicker of confusion.
"But it's not," I say softly, pulling the paper away. "And that surprised me."
Zervas and my family—we're allies now. In theory.
But trust? In this world?
It'll take more than a letter to make me, or my brothers, fully trust him.
"Which leaves me," I say, "with you. So, these wire transfers." I tap the paper. "Seven million euros last month. Another six the month before. All routed through shell companies that end with your organization. That's not Sebastian's level of sophistication, and not yours either, I'm betting."
Yannis shrugs. "We're expanding."
"Into what?" I snap.
"Security contracts. Legitimate business."
I laugh. "The Athenian Warriors going legitimate? Try again."
He doesn't respond so I guess it's time to give him a little incentive.
I stand and retrieve a pair of bolt cutters from a table in the far corner of the room.
"Is Elena your wife, girlfriend, or mistress?" I ask, turning around holding up the cutters. "She lives in that nice apartment in Kefalari. The one with the red door and the basil plants on the balcony."
His chest heaves. "Leave her out of this."
"I haven't brought her into anything." My voice remains perfectly calm. "You might have, though."
"Fuck you, Theo."
I walk up behind him and rest the cutters on my shoulder.
"Look, your organization doesn't have the infrastructure for any kind of legitimate growth. So either you stole that money—which would be incredibly stupid—or someone is using you as a pawn. Before Sebastian died, he mentioned that he shouldn't have trusted someone. Who was that?"
Yannis shakes his head. "I can't tell you."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Can't. I—"
The bolt cutters snap shut on his pinky finger. The crunching sound of bone is barely audible over his screaming.
"You dropped this," I say, picking up and tossing his severed finger onto his lap.
I look down and take a step back as blood pulses onto the floor.
"You almost got blood on my shoes."
"You and your brothers think you're so different than me or Sebastian? That you deserve all of Greece. You think you're better than us?"
I tilt my head. "No, but I know exactly what I am."
A strategist at heart. A killer when necessary, but ultimately, a king without a crown. Thankfully, I was taught that the right hand of the family is the longest.
I close the cutters on his index finger and it falls to the ground.
He screams again and I walk around to face him.
"Who's. Funding. Your. Accounts."
He's sobbing now, all pretense gone. I guess getting two fingers cut off does that to a man. "I don't know! I don't know names!"
"Then tell me what you do know." I lean closer. "Who's pulling your fucking strings, Yannis?"
"They—they contact us through different means."
"Like?"
"A waitress at a restaurant. Food delivery driver. Special cargo. Fuck, even old-school brown bag drops around the city." He's shaking, eyes unfocused from pain. "I never met anyone. We do a job, the money comes. It was too good to ignore."
"And my father?" I ask, bringing the bolt cutters in front of his face.
"No, no," he says, shaking his head frantically. "We had nothing to do with that."
Inside, something sharp and cold twists through me.
Not because I think he's lying, but because for the first time in a long time, I'm not sure where the enemy stands.
It does mean I was right, however. There's someone else. Someone bigger, using these low-level idiots and trying to take down my family.
And I don't have a name.
I study his face. And while I don't think he's holding something back, I have to make sure.
I walk back around him.
"Tell me who you're protecting, Yannis," I say as I slide the bolt cutters under his remaining fingers. "Or I take another. And another. And then I start on parts your wife will miss."
"They'll kill me and her!" he screams, jerking against the zip ties. "They'll kill Elena!"
"And I'll kill you both if you don't give me a name."
There's a moment of silence, and then, he speaks.
"A lawyer," he says in a low tone. "A guy by the name of Chris Xanos. He's local."
I squeeze the cutters lightly over his fingers just enough to draw blood.
"I swear," he screams. "I never met anyone regularly but him. I swear to God." Tears stream down his face, mixing with snot and blood. "Please, I'm telling the truth."
I take a moment. I believe him, and at least he gave me something.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Yannis," I say, tossing the bolt cutters to the side. "That will be all I need from you."
Relief floods his face. "You'll let me go?"
I laugh.
"No."
I pull a knife from my belt and yank his head back. Without hesitation, I slit his throat clean and deep.
The blood gushes hot across my hands. His body spasms against the chair, blood bubbles and gurgles from his mouth. After a couple seconds, he slumps in the chair, motionless, blackness in his eyes.
I step back.
"Have this cleaned up," I command to my men in the room as I wipe my hands and blade on a rag I pull from my pocket. "And run a full background check on Chris Xanos. I want to know everything. Where he lives, who he fucks, what he eats for breakfast."
One of my men steps forward.
"You want us to burn him?" he asks.
"No." I toss him the bloodstained rag. "Dump him where the Warriors will find him."
He nods and vanishes outside, on the phone making the arrangements.
I slide my knife back into the sheath on my belt.
If whoever's funding the Athenian Warriors thought they could hide behind shadow deals and silent accounts, they were wrong.
I will find them.
I'll tear apart everything and leave a trail of rotting corpses if I have to.
And when I find the man, I'll make sure there won't be enough of him left to bury.
I put on my jacket and step out into the night, the warehouse door swinging shut behind me.
War is coming. I can feel it.
Blood will be spilled. Loyalties will be tested.
I couldn't save my father.
But by the end of this, I'll make damn sure no one forgets his sons.
Only one family will rule Greece.
Mine.
Theo's war is just beginning. Then she returns, and nothing will ever be the same.
His story. Her secrets. Their explosive reunion.
Get Before Broken Vows.