Chapter 14 – Markos
The fishing boat rocked and swayed against its moorings. Under the scent of salt and brine, a sharper tang punctuated the air. It wasn’t difficult to find the source. Crimson streaks stained the rough wood deck, leading to the five black tarps near the helm.
Iosif rushed forward, a cry of despair leaving the young man’s lips.
I met Zephyr’s hard gaze before sliding a look to the sea. Tuning out my cousin’s grief, I focused on the gulls yapping and shrieking on the docks as they fought for their next meal. My own sorrow turned to ice, unable to be expressed through words or action.
Decades ago, Death had claimed my own family in an equally horrible manner.
He was not merciful, robbing without care of whom he hurt.
I blocked out images of the little fishing village on the rocky Thracian coast going up in flames.
But try as I might, I couldn’t unsee the images of my parents and siblings slaughtered.
The scars along my body wept with a fresh sheen of sweat, remembering how I’d been at the invaders’ mercy and unable to fight and save them.
It was better never to love than to suffer such great loss. A lesson Iosif would learn if he was wise.
Hard steps announced his approach. I didn’t look as Zephyr stopped beside me. “Whoever executed the hit was efficient.”
A tight breath escaped my lungs, and with a great effort, I managed to shove the past into the recesses of my mind. “They had to have been to sneak up on Iakovos.”
Zephyr grunted. “Poor bastards never saw it coming. Their bodies are a mess, but there’s an execution bullet hole in the back of every skull.”
“Do you think it was more than one shooter?” I finally slid a glance in the other man’s direction.
He shrugged. “Looks that way.”
“And we’re sure it was the same enemy who’s been sending the anonymous threats?” I growled. That was going to make it harder to track down the enemy—harder, but not impossible. They crossed a line, taking out one of our own, plus his crew.
“That’s Atlas’s department,” Zephyr clipped out. “I was sent to clean up the mess.”
“Who found them?” I scanned the docks.
“Some of our own.”
Good. That was a small blessing in the midst of this tragedy. The villagers would gossip amongst themselves, but so long as no outsider discovered the hit, we were safe from the law investigating.
“Then we need to move quickly.” I rolled up my sleeves. “Dorothea will find out about her son, and I don’t want her seeing the carnage.
Zephyr’s jaw tightened as he glanced back at my cousin, who had fallen to his knees beside one of the tarps, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs. The tarp was pulled down, and while I couldn’t make out Iakovos’s face, I felt the wave of grief wash over me all the same.
I cursed under my breath. “Get him out of here. I’ll help with the bodies.”
Zephyr nodded and strode toward Iosif, placing a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder.
There was a brief struggle—Iosif trying to shake him off, refusing to leave—but Zephyr’s quiet words eventually penetrated his anguish.
If we were monsters, Zephyr was a devil of the worst kind.
But even this force of hell had a soft side.
I watched as he guided Iosif to the dock, the lad pulling himself together and walking away with steady steps.
“What did you say to him?” I asked when the enforcer retraced his steps.
The devil grunted. “He’s the man of the house now. I told him to find his mother and be strong for her.”
Nodding, I moved to the bodies. Since the entrance wound was in the back, the front was a mottled mess of bone and flesh.
There was no identifying this face as my cousin, the man who’d swum and fished with me every day when I first came to America.
It was the brawny build, and the badly done starfish tattoo on his right bicep that confirmed the worst. Taking the edge of the tarp, I covered Iakovos once more.
“We’ll bury the crew in the church yard, but Iakovos is one of the Twelve,” I said to Zephyr who’d come up behind me. “We burn him at midnight.”
“Do you want to take him to the Shark’s Fin or shall I?” Zephyr lit a cigarette.
“You. I’ll take the boat out and make preparations to sink her. Follow with another when you’re done.” I moved to the helm and examined the mechanisms. Nothing seemed broken. There wasn’t a single fastening out of place. Unease shifted through me. I leaned over the edge, checking the water levels.
Just as I thought.
“How did this rig float to shore?” I demanded. “The tide’s against her.”
Zephyr paused, the garish load he drug halfway to the ship’s side. “Don’t know.”
Frustration knotted in my chest. The devil wasn’t a sailor. “Who called you?”
“Old man Leandros.”
I looked over the docks, spying the wizened fisherman with his sons and their shrimp boat. They were going to have some explaining to do. Moving to the side of the vessel, I vaulted the rail and landed on the dock. Zephyr tugged his load off the ramp at the same moment.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
“Going to have a chat about the day’s catch.”
“Markos,” he warned. “They’re villagers. Don’t involve them in this tragedy. It’s our fight.”
I slapped Zephyr’s shoulder as I passed. “They’re already involved.”
Zephyr could tattle to his brother, and I wouldn’t care.
Atlas would side with me that these villagers needed to be questioned.
These men—like every other villager—knew who we were.
The inhabitants of this strip of land offered us their allegiance and silence, aid when we required it and a hearth to call our own should we want it.
And in return, the humble villagers didn’t need to rely on their work for an abundant livelihood.
Our illicit gains made them wealthy beyond measure.
We protected them until our dying breath; and they would rather drown than speak the truth about their benefactors.
Going to the shrimp boat, I barked at the man. “Leandros!”
The old man turned, his weathered face creasing into a grimace when he saw me. His sons stiffened, shoulders squaring as I approached. The eldest—Nikos, if I remembered correctly—stepped forward, putting himself between me and his father.
“We don’t want trouble, Markos,” Nikos said, voice low.
I smiled, the expression more teeth than warmth. “Then be honest with me. Who found the boat?”
The old man peered around his son. “I did. Before dawn.”
“And you just happened to be out that early this morning?”
Leandros’s gaze flickered toward the horizon. “The tides were right for yellowfin.”
“The tides,” I repeated, stepping closer. “Funny thing about tides. They don’t push fishing boats against their direction.”
A tense silence fell over the men.
The other son spoke up. “There was a second boat.”
“Skata, Luca!” Nikos muttered. “What are you doing?”
“He’s the boss,” the brother protested.
“Smart boy,” I mused with a deceptive warmth. “Where did the other boat go?”
“They took off, three men who left Iakovos’s ship, whose course was set straight in the direction of the docks. We intercepted her before she struck and caused damage,” Nikos explained.
“Describe the second boat?” I demanded.
Nikos hesitated, his weather-beaten face tightening with obvious reluctance. His father placed a gnarled hand on his arm and nodded once.
“Black hull, maybe forty feet,” Nikos said finally. “Custom job. Had some kind of symbol painted on the side—a white scorpion.”
My blood ran cold. The Skorpios family. They’d been pushing into our territories for months, but this was their boldest move yet.
“Which direction?” I kept my voice level despite the rage building in my chest.
“Southeast,” Luca offered eagerly, pointing toward the horizon. “Heading toward the islands.”
I nodded slowly, processing this information. “You saw faces?”
The three men exchanged uneasy glances. Old man Leandros shook his head, but Nikos’s eyes betrayed him. If the older brother knew something.... I stepped closer and turned my gaze to the younger brother, who wilted slightly under my scrutiny.
“Luca? Did you see their faces?” I let my voice hum with an unspoken threat.
“Too dark. But they wore suits. Not fishing clothes.”
Nikos shifted uncomfortably, put off by his brother’s loose tongue. “They had guns, Markos. Big ones. We stayed back until they were gone.”
“And you didn’t think to call us immediately?” My voice dropped dangerously low.
“We did call,” the father protested. “Called Zephyr straight away.”
“Let me make myself clear. You saw nothing. You went out for yellowfin and only just came back to hear about the tragedy.” I pinned them each with a warning glance.
“These men struck down a member of the Twelve along with his whole crew. They’re dangerous, and they don’t need to know you made out their vessel. Understood?”
Relief flooded the father’s face. He clasped his hands, muttering thanks and wishes for my health in the old language.
I left them to it, content that my warning had been received.
We would protect them, we always did. But only so long as they were loyal to us first. That was the way organizations like ours worked.
Our soldiers fought and bled for the syndicate, but not even leadership was immune to the ultimate price of serving our people.
***
The night air clung to my skin like a wet blanket. The breeze swept the smoke of the funeral pyre across the peninsula and carried it out across the waves. If it wasn’t for that, the stench of a burning corpse would’ve been unbearable.
“He said it was the Skorpios,” I insisted.
Atlas’s stony expression was unreadable.
Iris spoke up, voice sharp with warning. “We don’t know that, Markos.”
“I doubt Leandros has a good reason to lie,” I snapped.
Why we weren’t making battle plans was beyond me. My fingers itched to spill blood.