Chapter 2
Cronos
I’m cursed.
Doomed to forever live in the darkness of my past, paying for the sins of my father. I’m burdened with the knowledge that I am the reason the only woman I have ever loved is dead. I shut down and allowed the world to continue spinning without me living. I just existed until I met her.
Max Kingsley.
She breathed life back into my damned soul. She was the sunshine on the darkest of days. She was like a wave crashing against the walls I built to ward off any chance of happiness—I wanted to wallow in my misery for the remainder of my fucked up life.
She reminds me of Mother Nature, always nourishing those around her and breathing life back into strangers. She wants to heal, not maim. She broke away from the confines of what was expected of her and made a life outside of her last name, she never wanted to conform and be like the others. She carved her own path and rebuilt herself in an image that she could face in the mirror daily and respect.
When she told me to leave, I shouldn’t have listened, I should have explained that I never meant to hurt her. Instead, I let the pain of her rejection consume me and abandoned her when she needed me most.
I needed time to heal after that, so left my family and everyone behind to rebuild myself and try to find my new normal. Don’t get shit twisted, I am so fucking far from normal I don’t even know what the real meaning of that word is—I redefined myself to fit my normal.
I had no idea where to go or what to do when I left my brother and Lon but I knew I couldn’t stay in Greece or go to New York or Miami because London would have her family watching me, so I chose a small little place in Minnesota, Grand Marais. It has a population of 1,300 people. It’s small enough to know everyone but big enough to also hide who I really am without the town folk wanting to dig into my past. I work a full time job and even went as far as to purchase the company from Bill. He was the first person with enough courage to approach me at the diner on my second week here.
I told the old man to fuck off but he just laughed and told me to follow him. Curious and bewildered by his bravery to not cower under the pressure of my glare or even heed my warning to get lost, I followed him. I was fucking rendered silent when we walked a block over and he came to a stop in front of the only mortuary in town. Bill told me I looked like the type that didn’t relish being among the living and thought working with the dead might suit me better. I’ve been working here ever since that day. When Bill retired four months ago he offered for me to buy the business at a fair price. I paid triple what it was worth, it was the least I could do.
He will never know it but his small act of kindness that day has helped me in my journey of rediscovering who I am more than he will ever comprehend. Not only do I run and operate the morgue, I am also the undertaker of the local cemetery. My cabin is nestled in the trees behind it, I’d rather live next to the dead than the living, they don’t complain or make noise.
“Morning, boy.” I look up from the body I am stitching up after just completing its autopsy to see Bill standing there with two brown paper bags and a thermos that I know is filled with his wife Beth’s famous chicken noodle soup.
“I’m working,” I clip out before returning to my task. I may like Bill and respect the old fucker but I still haven’t changed enough to enjoy the company of others.
“Tough shit, you need a break and I’m hungry.” Ignoring him I continue on with my task, hoping he’ll fuck off. “Well, Brady won’t mind us using his body as a table since he’s dead,” he says as he places the bags on top of my cadaver, knowing I fucking hate any food or drinks in here. I have a fucking thing about shit being messy and he knows this. I drop the needle and snap my head up to glare at him, only to find the fucker grinning at me.
“You’re going to be the next fucking body I’m stitching up if you don’t watch yourself,” I warn.
Bill just laughs and wags his white brows. “Boy, I am nearly eighty years young, I think I have at least another five good years in me before I’m on your table.” I grumble under my breath about him being a dick as I cross the room, remove my apron and hang it on its hook, then deglove and move to the sink to scrub my hands. Bill whistles as he passes me and heads out front, feeling fucking triumphant because he got his way. I stomp after him, pissed off that he interrupted me. I hate leaving a body on the table without finishing. The dead should be treated with respect not left on a fucking slab because I’m eating.
I drop into one of the mismatched chairs in the tiny kitchen. I never use this room unless Bill stops by. I have a receptionist who works from home and handles all my books and phone calls so I don’t have to deal with the people, I only want to focus on the bodies. They don’t talk or judge, their presence is enough for me to fill that needy human instinct of wanting interaction with another person. It pisses me off that Becky, my receptionist, is leaving next week to get married so I need to find someone else to take over for her.
“So, Beth tells me we have a new woman in town.” I scowl at the fucker as I tear into the bag and pull out my ham and cheese sandwich he brought me. “She’s a looker, my wife tells me.”
“Then you go fuck her,” I growl, earning a laugh from the old fucker.
“Rumor has it, she isn’t looking for an old washed-up man but a young twenty-five year old guy, covered in tattoos, black hair and brown eyes.” I narrow my eyes.
“Good try, asshole, no one knows me and if they do, they have no idea I got inked.” It’s true, I decided to decorate my body with the story of my past when I left. I haven’t seen anyone since then. I send London her photos, but it’s never of me like she wanted. They are pictures of the landscape, a book or something trivial. We talk on the phone but rarely facetime. I don’t want to see her and her knowing me as well as she does, she will see in my eyes that something is missing from my life and push me for information.
Bill shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich as he leans back in his chair and shrugs. “Pity. She looks like a nice girl.”
“You just said you haven’t seen her!” I snap.
“Oh, did I?”
I narrow my eyes. “What the fuck are you playing at old man?” I snarl.
“Take that soup and head on home, boy, I’ll finish Brady off for you.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” I snarl as I toss my sandwich on the table.
“Because she asked for you by name .” I reel back but make sure to keep the shock from splaying over my face. My guard is up now, I knew people would figure out that I left Artemis and come after me to get at my brother but I never thought they would find me here. “She didn’t ask where the Angel Of Death lives, she asked if Beth knew where Cronos Argyros lays his head each night.” My nostrils flare, all the townspeople aside from Bill and Beth call me the Angel Of Death. I hate the fucking name but it beats them knowing my real name. Bill knows who I really am and why I am here. He chose to keep my secret, which goes a long way in me trusting him, his wife Beth even calls me Nos sometimes.
“Was she alone?”
Bill nods as I stand to leave but his words have me halting. “I sent her to your house.”
“Why?”
“She don’t look like a woman who is here to kill you.”
“How would you know the difference?” I snap.
“Because they wouldn’t send a woman who is scared of her own fucking shadow and sporting bruises to kill someone like you, boy.”
I bounce in the seat of my old beat up pickup truck as I drive along the gravel road that leads to my cabin, my gun resting on my lap. I’m poised and ready to strike. I stop the truck in front of my house and kill the engine as I climb out with my gun in hand and spin around taking in my surroundings. It’s so quiet out here that I would be able to hear a gun cocking from a distance. I slowly turn in a circle scanning the trees and listening to the birds, they are my first line of defense out here. Animals are great at alerting you to something that doesn’t belong, they hate their resting place being disturbed.
I pause at the sight of a shadow on the ground, whoever the fuck this woman is she isn’t very smart hiding behind a fucking tree!
“You got three fucking seconds to show yourself before I start spraying led,” I shout. “Three… Two…” The words die on my tongue when she steps out from the cover of the tree. My face falls and my mouth parts in surprise at the sight of her. My heart begins to pump harder in my chest, like it’s trying to jump out of me to burrow itself inside hers!
“Hey, Grizz,” she says nervously as she wrings her hands in front of her, she looks like a train wreck. I run my gaze over her and fight the frown from taking over my face at the sight of her rumpled clothes and the way her hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days. Her eyes have dark rings under them and she looks utterly terrified. The longer it takes for me to say something, the more nervous she becomes and it’s a strange sight to see. I’ve never seen her like this. She is always so sure of herself and her every move yet, here she stands, looking like she might bolt if a bird chirped too loudly.
When she takes a step toward me, I instinctively take one back without thought, forcing her to stop her advance. Hurt flickers in her green eyes but I can’t bring myself to care because she hurt me too!
“Grizz–”
I cut her off before she can continue. “How did you find me?”
She drops her gaze to the ground. “You told me when you sent me that… letter.” I grind my teeth in annoyance. In a moment of weakness six weeks after I moved here, I sent her a fucking letter. I went old school and sent her snail mail but I never gave her my address. “The stamp on the envelope, I remembered,” she mutters.
“Why are you here?” I grit out as I push my gun into my waistband and cross my arms over my chest. She slowly lifts her gaze to me and the sight of her tears has me tensing.
“I need your help,” she says so quietly I would have missed it if I wasn’t paying such close attention.
“That's what your father is for, Amelia.” She flinches at my cold tone. I know I should stop but the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I’m just a thug for hire like them, remember?” Her bottom lip trembles, she tugs her small cardigan around her body tighter and nods.
“Yeah. You’re right,” she says bitterly and moves closer. I tense in preparation, waiting for her to bust a move but she stills a few steps away and now that she is closer I see the pain and fear in her eyes. “It was good to see you, Grizz,” she chokes out as more tears fall. I remain strong and watch her as she leaves. This time it’s not me walking away from her and it feels almost like Deja vu.
Standing here watching her walk away from me is stirring feelings I thought I had long since buried but it turns out, I still fucking care about her and I hate her for making me feel again. A whole year I have been good, fine, existing and doing everyday things like normal people. I built my own normal and made a life here, an honest fucking life. A life I am proud of. I don’t have millions sitting in my account like my brother, he still sends me and the triplets money every fucking month but I don’t want it.
Artemis has always been the father we never had but I’m not his problem or his child, I’m his twin. It isn’t his job to look after me or shelter me from the world. I know I’m fucked up and different but I’m good with that. I don’t need anyone, I’m happy being on my own. The moment Amelia disappears from my sight, anguish spurs inside me and I loathe myself for letting the past resurface.
“Motherfucker!” I roar so loud that the birds take flight from the trees to escape me.