Chapter 31 Athena
ATHENA
The drive back feels endless.
I'm tucked into Dimitri's side in the back seat, my body too spent to do anything but lean into the warmth of him. Every time the SUV bounces over a pothole, the bruises along my arms and ribs flare. I press my face against his shoulder and breathe him in.
I'm safe, I tell myself over and over.
I don't think I've ever been this tired. Not even the day my mother died. Not even the day I watched my father get lowered into the ground, wondering why I couldn't feel anything.
But this, this is different. Because there's no numbness left.
I feel everything. Every ache. Every heartbeat. Every breath that passes my lips.
No one speaks. Dimitri just keeps one hand buried in my hair, stroking the tangled strands like he's reassuring me that I'm okay, but I think maybe it's for him as well.
At some point, I drift in and out of consciousness. The motion of the car, the low hum of Dimitri's heartbeat, it all blends into something that relaxes me.
When the SUV slows and turns, I blink awake.
I lift my head enough to look out the cracked side window.
Massive wrought iron gates swing open and men with guns walk alongside us. I look out the windshield and see the road winds through olive trees, leading to a sprawling mansion.
I swallow. My mouth tastes like copper and dirt. My throat burns from screaming. The zip ties left raw rings around my wrists that throb.
"We're here," Dimitri says, against my ear.
The SUV rolls to a stop near the front steps. The other vehicles pull in behind us. I catch a glimpse of Ares, his face set in that same cold fury I saw back at the quarry.
"Don't move," Dimitri says, opening his door and stepping out.
I sit up and follow him with my eyes as he walks around the car to my side and opens the door.
Then he leans in, slides his arms under me, and lifts me out like I weigh nothing.
Ares slams the door hard enough to make me flinch and walks away.
Dimitri holds me in his arms and starts walking.
All around us, men unload from the other SUVs. I see Theo talking into his phone, gesturing sharply at someone I don't recognize. Ares glances at me and looks away.
But none of it matters.
Because Dimitri doesn't stop walking.
He carries me up the front steps like there isn't anyone watching, like he doesn't care that half his family and crew are witnessing this, him cradling the daughter of the man who destroyed their father.
"You don't have to—" I start.
"Don't even say it," he says, but the harshness of the words is negated by the gentleness in his voice.
When we get to the main entrance, massive wooden doors swing open before us, revealing a grand foyer with soaring ceilings and marble floors.
Staff members freeze as we enter, their eyes widening at the sight of us. I can only imagine how we look. Me filthy and bloodstained, Dimitri's clothing torn and crusted with dried blood, both of us looking like we've crawled out of hell itself.
A middle-aged woman in crisp black clothing gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Mr. Kastaris—"
"Medical kit to the blue suite," Dimitri commands without breaking stride. "Hot water, clean towels."
"Yes, sir. Right away," she says, already turning to fulfill his orders.
We pass by a mirror and I catch a glimpse of myself.
Jesus, I’d gasp too if I saw us.
And muscle memory kicks in and I can't help but think what would my mother think, seeing me like this? The mighty Isadora Lianou's daughter, reduced to this. Stripped of all deception. No makeup, no seduction, no carefully constructed persona. Just me, raw, vulnerable, barely holding together.
"Beauty is your armor," she'd told me once, applying her signature red lipstick. "Never let them see you without it."
Well, she didn't have a Dimitri in her life.
Beauty isn't my armor anymore. Gaining the knowledge that someone can look at you like you're the only person on earth at your lowest is what protects me now, and that's exactly what this man carrying me has shown me.
"Dimitri, we need—" Ares says, walking up behind us with Theo.
"Later," Dimitri cuts him off without slowing. "She needs medical attention first."
"For fuck's sake," Ares says from behind us. "Put her down. We need answers now."
Dimitri doesn't even turn around. "You'll get them when she's ready."
"This isn't a hotel, Dimitri," Ares continues, his voice rising. "She's not a guest, she's—"
"She's mine," Dimitri growls. The words hang in the air, heavy and definitive.
I look up and see the hard set of his jaw, the single-minded determination in his eyes. Dimitri doesn't glance down, doesn't elaborate, just continues walking as if he hasn't just staked a claim on me in front of his family.
Just as we turn a corner, I see Theo grab Ares, holding him back and speaking to him, though I can't hear what he's saying.
"Your brothers hate me," I say.
"They don't know you," he replies. "They will."
Such simple confidence. As if it's inevitable that they'll accept me, just because he has.
"And if they don't?" I ask.
His arms tighten around me. "Doesn't matter."
We reach a door at the end of the hall. Dimitri manages to turn the handle without loosening his grip on me. The room beyond is spacious and elegant, a four-poster bed dominating one wall, tall windows showcasing the Peloponnesian landscape beyond.
Greek blue accents everything and now I know why he called it the blue suite.
Dimitri carries me straight to the bathroom and sets me down on a chair next to a large claw-foot tub, but keeps one hand on my shoulder as if afraid I might topple over.
I'm not entirely sure I won't.
The woman from earlier appears in the doorway, arms laden with towels and a medical kit. She sets them down next to us.
"Will you need anything else, sir?"
"That's all, Chloe. Thank you."
She nods and withdraws, shutting the door closed behind her.
When we're alone, Dimitri kneels in front of me. The mighty enforcer of the Kastaris family, on his knees.
One of his hands rests on my thigh, the other lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Fucking animals," he says and looks down at the supplies Chloe brought.
"We need to clean you up," he says finally. "Then you can rest before they start with the questions."
I sit frozen on the chair as Dimitri's eyes catalog every visible injury. The intensity in his gaze makes my skin prickle.
"Let's get these off you," he says, reaching for the hem of my tattered shirt.
I nod, suddenly too exhausted to speak. My arms feel heavy as I try to lift them, and Dimitri notices immediately.
"Don't. I'll do it."
I don't stop him.
Because for the first time in my life, I don't feel like someone undressing me is taking something.
It feels like he's giving it back.
He eases the fabric up, careful not to let it drag against my skin. His movements are gentle in a way I hadn't thought possible from hands I've seen crush throats and pull triggers.
Before he can continue he notices my shirt catches on a dried patch of blood at my side, he pauses, wets a cloth, and dabs at it until the fabric comes away and he can make sure there's no fresh wound underneath.
"Arms up," he says, and I comply, wincing as my shoulder protests.
The shirt comes off, and Dimitri's jaw tightens as he takes in the bruises across my ribs and collarbone, the results of the crash and being taken.
He goes over the fingerprint-shaped marks on my upper arms where they'd grabbed me.
"Those bastards," he says. "I should have killed them slower, gotten to you sooner."
"No." My voice is a rasp. "You came. That's all that matters to me."
He cups the side of my face, thumb stroking just under my eye.
"I'm going to clean you up," he says. "Then I'm going to take you into that shower and make you forget everything else."