Chapter 8 Athena
ATHENA
He leans back in the chair across from me, gun resting casually in his lap, as if we're two old friends about to catch up over coffee instead of this sick game.
"You really think I killed your father?" Dimitri asks, his finger tapping against the gun on his lap.
"You're a Kastaris. Your family eliminates problems, and my father was a problem, I suppose."
"For who?"
I roll my eyes. "For you, I guess." I lean forward as far as the ropes will allow.
"You don't even care why I did it, do you?
Drugged you. You haven't even asked." My voice rises.
"Not once have you asked who my father was.
Why I'd come after you. Why I'm sitting here tied up like some disposable whore. "
"Well, I thought I'd—"
"Or why I'm even upset. It's all just another Tuesday for you, isn't it? Some woman's vendetta. Someone else's grief," I say, interrupting him with the rest of my thoughts as if he wasn't even speaking.
His gaze sharpens, but he says nothing. He can probably read on my face that I've got more to say.
"Because it's all the same to you, isn't it?" I continue. "Born to protect your precious family. I'm just another threat you'll deal with," I say, voice shaking. "You don't even know what you did to me. To her."
Still no reaction.
He then takes a sharp inhale. "So, what was your plan exactly?" he asks, the gun still resting casually on his thigh. "Drug me, tie me up, then what? Was slapping me around supposed to be the revenge for your father? Or were you planning to actually kill me?"
I want to tell him yes. Not so much for him, but for me. As soon as they brought me into the room with him before he woke, I knew I wasn't going to be able to do it. I wanted to be brave, be different than what I've been. Do it for her, but I knew I couldn't, and I assume he knew that too.
"I told them I would, but really I was going to make you confess," I say, deciding to tell the truth. "I was going to record it or something. And then—"
"And then make me pay. But who would you show the recording to?"
I don't have an answer to that. I never thought past the moment of his confession.
"Who were the other men there that allowed you to take the lead on something that you clearly had never done before?" he continues.
I look down at the ground. The silence stretches between us. My chest tightens with each breath.
"You killed him! You took the only thing she ever had. The only thing that mattered to her."
His eyes narrow slightly. "Who?"
I blink. The words stick in my throat. He finally asks.
"Cosmo," I say, looking directly at him. "Cosmo Kouris."
I see it. For the first time, something flickers across his face. Not guilt. Not remorse.
Recognition.
He leans forward. "And why do you think I killed Cosmo?"
Tears sting my eyes. I glare at him through the blur. "Does it matter?" I say with a shaky voice. "I don't care. Someone told me you did. That you were responsible. And now she's gone too. Because of you."
"Who's she?"
"My mother," I say abruptly. "She killed herself after the news broke about Cosmo's murder."
"She was Isadora Lianou. Maybe you've heard of her. She was beautiful. One of the most famous models." I swallow against the dryness in my throat. "But beauty fades. Models get discarded. Men move on. And she didn't."
Dimitri's gaze softens slightly.
"Pills. Alone. In her fucking room wearing the dress he always liked. She believed he would leave his wife. She waited twenty-five years for him to choose her. She believed his promises until the day you took him off this earth."
A few tears run down my cheeks before I can shove it down. Screw it. I don't give a shit if he sees me like this.
"I was supposed to make it right," I say, voice shaking. "I was supposed to be the one who made you pay. For her."
Dimitri's stare stays stoic.
"That was your plan?" he says. "Drug me. Get me killed, because those men had no intention of letting me leave alive, and that would somehow balance the scales?"
I shrug. "I had nothing. They offered me a way to get to you, and I took it."
He nods once, slow and deliberate, as if that tells him everything he needs to know.
Then he stands, tucking the gun in his waistband. "I'll be back."
The chair scrapes across the floor as he pushes it back.
I jerk against my bindings, panic rising. "Where are you going?"
"Out."
"You're just leaving me here?" My voice rises. "Tied up? Alone?"
He pauses at the edge of the room. "Yes."
"Stay," I blurt, the word out before I can stop it. "If you're going to keep me tied up like this, at least, at least don't leave."
He looks back over his shoulder.
"You afraid of the dark now, Alepoudítsa?" he says, voice dry.
My cheeks burn. "No. But only cowards tie someone up and then run away."
His mouth twitches, almost forming a smile. "Running away? From a woman tied to a chair?"
"Seems like it," I challenge. "Afraid of what I might say if we keep talking?"
A hint of amusement flickers across his face. "You really can't stand not having my attention, can you?"
Heat flushes my cheeks. "I can't stand being left alone tied up in a strange place with a murderer on the loose."
"I'm not on the loose. I'm right here."
"You know what I mean."
He looks away. "I won't be long."
He says it like a promise. Or a threat. I can't tell which.
Then he's gone, the door closing behind him.
I sag against the ropes, trembling.
Tears come in earnest, silent and helpless, burning down my cheeks. I shake my head and give myself a pep talk.
After a few deep breaths, I realize him leaving is a good thing.
This is my chance to escape.
Time to get the hell out of here.