Chapter 11 Athena
ATHENA
Dimitri marched me back to the house and told me we were leaving. I told him I had to pee, to which he made me go with the door open. I thought to fight him on it, but I was more happy just to be able to go.
He grabbed some things, and out we went, back into the night.
But this time, he was driving.
And that's been the extent of our interactions since he caught me.
He hasn't spoken since he shoved me into the passenger seat and we left. Not a word. His eyes are fixed on the road, save for the occasional glances in the rearview mirrors.
I will say Dimitri's driving is as forceful as everything else about him. He takes each turn aggressively, throwing me against the passenger door. My bare feet throb, stinging with cuts and scrapes from my escape attempt.
I pull the borrowed sweatshirt tighter around me, as if it might shield me.
I should be grateful he didn't kill me after I ran.
Instead, I'm here. With him.
Still breathing.
Still his prisoner.
Still furious.
"Is this like last time, or can you tell me where we're going?" I ask, knowing the answer.
Silence. His jaw works, flexing and releasing as he stares ahead at the dark road.
And what's weird about him, his silence feels worse than if he were screaming.
You can't fight silence. You can react to screams. But this? It'll drive you insane.
A streetlight catches on his tattoos, illuminating the designs running from his hands up his forearms.
After another ten minutes of stillness, he finally speaks.
"Do you always run when you're scared?" he asks, eyes never leaving the road.
"I wasn't scared."
"Liar."
I turn toward the window, watching the shadows of olive trees blur past. "You've killed people. I'd be stupid not to run."
"And are you stupid, Athena?"
"No," I snap. "That's pretty fucking rude."
He shrugs.
"Then explain why you thought drugging me at my brother's wedding was a good plan."
Without taking his eyes off the road, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone.
I instantly recognize it.
Shit.
It's the burner I'd been using.
"Explain John G."
My stomach drops. "Give me that."
He ignores me, slowing the car and cutting the wheel sharply onto a smaller road.
"Tell me about him. Now."
"He's nobody."
Dimitri laughs, low and dark. "Nobody doesn't set up elaborate kidnappings of men like me."
"Maybe you're not as important as you think."
Dimitri slams on the brakes.
The tires screech and the car jolts to a stop. I lurch forward, my hands braced against the dash, heart pounding in my throat.
He turns to me, eyes cold.
"You're going to lie to me. Now. After everything?"
"I'm not lying."
"Try again."
I cross my arms and look out the window. "Just drive."
He waits a moment and then starts driving again.
A few minutes later, he pulls a manila envelope from the console and tosses it onto my lap.
"What's this?"
"You tell me."
I open it and see the images.
"Pictures."
"Yes, of me. My brothers. My sister, Calli," his voice is sharp now. Accusing. "Someone's been tracking us. And they gave this shit to you."
"I don't know who took them," I say, "if that's what you're implying."
"But you carried them."
I don't reply.
"See what else is in there."
I sigh, already knowing. I pull out the wedding invitation.
"That's how you got in," he says. "Forged fucking copies. Pretty little setup you've got."
I go to speak, but he cuts me off.
"Oh, and that medical examiner's report on Cosmo?" He glances at me. "You know that was fake, right? It lists me as cause of death."
"Screw you," I say, mainly because I'm embarrassed.
I knew it was bullshit. I knew. But I wanted so badly to believe it that I let it slide.
"Someone played you, Alepoudítsa," he says, eerily calm. "And you let them."
"No one played me. I knew what I was doing."
"Do you?" He turns to look at me again, his blue eyes penetrating my armor. "You don't even know what you're a part of, do you?"
"I know enough."
"You don’t know shit." He looks back at the road. "You really think someone like this John G. gives a fuck about you? About your parents?"
The cold dismissal in his tone makes my blood boil.
"And what would you know about caring for anyone?" I yell. "You and your family leave blood wherever you go. My father was just one more body to you."
"Your father deserved what he got," Dimitri says, his voice stern.
Rage explodes inside me and I see red.
I start hitting him.
Slapping. Punching. He brings his right arm up and blocks every damn swing I give from hitting his face.
He laughs.
At first, that only upsets me even more, but my adrenaline quickly diminishes and my hand starts throbbing from connecting with his shoulder, bicep, and forearm.
I stop, brushing my hair from my face, eyes burning with frustration. I brace for retaliation but it doesn't come.
"Are you done?" he asks with a grin.
"FUCK!" I scream, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.
We get to a fork in the road and Dimitri slows the car, and I can tell he's thinking of how to proceed with me.
"Look, I just want to know who you're working for. Who set you up? Why me?"
I wipe my face.
"Someone had to pay," I say, voice shaky. "My mother, she killed herself after he died. She swallowed pills because she couldn't live without him. And he was barely around. You understand what that's like? To be the one left behind? To know you weren't enough?"
For once, the great Dimitri doesn't fire back, and to my surprise, his stoic sternness softens and he sighs and rubs his face.
Maybe he sees how pathetic I feel.
"You had to know kidnapping me wouldn't fix that."
"I thought there would be justice. For her. For me."
"There's no justice in this world, Athena," he says. "Just survival."
I look down at the photos in my lap. I have to give him something.
"John G. said you'd confess," I admit. "Said you'd tell me everything."
"Who is John G.?" His voice drops. "Was he a friend of your father's?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. He approached me after my mother's funeral. Said he knew things about my father's death, things that were covered up."
"And you just trusted him?"
"I didn't have anyone else." The words scrape my throat. "I was alone. He had proof. Or what looked like proof."
Dimitri's gaze sharpens. "And what was his price?"
I hesitate.
"Come on. Money? Promises of a better life? What?"
"He said," I stop and clear my throat, "okay, at first, all I had to do was bring you to them. They'd get you to confess and justice would be served, and they'd, umm, they'd kill you. Then I wanted to do it, but we know how that turned out."
Dimitri nods and picks a direction to start driving again.
"But justice wasn't all they promised you. How much?"
I look out the window.
"Athena. How much?"
"5 million. All right. If it makes you feel any better. Clearly, I'm not going to get any of it now."
"Damn," Dimitri says and leans back in his chair. "I'm worth at least 10. 15 maybe."
"Well if it was that much I probably would have been able to do it," I say. Then immediately realize I'm talking about killing someone.
"Sorry, I didn't mean that."
He doesn't respond.
"I can tell you right now John G. isn't trying to help you. He's using you to get to me, or my family."
"Why would he care about your family?"
"Money. Power. Revenge. Take your pick." Dimitri's voice is flat. "But it has nothing to do with justice for your father. As a matter of fact," he says and glances over at me, "I think it has everything to do with mine."
"Your father?" I ask, surprised.
"Your feet are bleeding," he says suddenly.
I glance down, seeing the smears of blood on the floor mat.
"They're fine."
"They're not." He reaches into the bag behind the seat, pulls out something, and hands it over.
"Here," he says, handing me some tissues.
I stare at them and then at him. It's hard to believe someone like him is capable of any type of kindness, and maybe it's not that, but it's something. An acknowledgment, maybe. Of my pain, of my existence.
"Thank you," I say, taking them.
He doesn't respond.
Dimitri watches me from the corner of his eye as I dab my feet, the tissues soaking up the blood.
"I still hate you," I say, needing to remind myself.
The corner of his mouth curls, not quite a smile. "I didn't think some tissues would sway you."
We ride in silence for a few minutes.
Finally, I can't help it.
"Can I ask you something?"
He cuts a glance toward me. "Go ahead."
"Why didn't you kill me?"
He doesn't blink, just looks back at the road.
"I mean. I drugged you. Lied to you. Had you chained up and delivered to men who would've shot you dead. Why didn't you end it when you caught me?"
"Because something told me you weren't the enemy," he says.
"And what am I then?"
He doesn't answer right away.
Instead, he shifts, and for a moment, I think he's going to grab me.
But he just leans in. Close.
So fucking close I can feel his body heat again.
His hand lifts, grabbing my jaw. Not hard, just firm enough to keep my attention.
"I don't know what you are yet," he says. "But now I want to find out."