Chapter 14 – Markos #2
Atlas spoke for the first time since arriving to the funeral. “What if someone wanted us to go to war with Rouvin? Killing the head of the Skorpios would shake the balance on this part of the coast.”
“That would be a lot of work to start a turf war,” Alexie muttered. “Little to gain.”
Glowering at the flames, I focused on the twin gold coins flickering in the heat. “There’s much to be gained when mobs go to war,” I said begrudgingly.
“So you do have a brain in that thick skull of yours,” Iris said with a slight sneer.
I ignored her and focused on the remains of my cousin. The bloodlust wasn’t sated, only held back by a thin chain until I found the culprit.
“I’ll keep my thicker parts to myself tonight,” I replied dryly to Iris, watching the dancing flames consume what remained of my kin. My jaw tightened. “But when the time comes—”
“When the time comes, you’ll follow orders,” Atlas cut in, voice carrying the weight of command that had settled our family disputes. His dark eyes reflected the funeral pyre, making them seem almost demonic in the night. “No maverick bullshit, Markos. We move as one or not at all.”
I bit back a retort. Atlas was right, of course. Still, the need for vengeance burned hotter than the fire before us.
The ceremony continued in relative silence. One by one, the remaining members of our inner circle approached the pyre, each placing something of significance into the flames. A bottle of clear liquor. A strand of shells. A rare playing card of a soccer star.
When it was my turn, I stepped forward, withdrawing the silver pocket watch Iakovos had carried since his father’s passing. The metal was warm in my palm, its presence familiar from the countless times I’d seen him check it during our fishing expeditions.
Iakovos, the firstborn of their name, had no son to leave the heirloom to. That legacy died with him.
“May the tide carry you home,” I murmured, tossing it into the heart of the flames.
The watch case sprung open as it hit the embers, revealing the faded photograph inside before the fire consumed it.
I stepped back, my throat tight. This hit was personal.
A tragedy we all felt keenly. It had been five years since there was an open spot amongst us.
Iosif filled his father’s shoes at the ripe age of twenty.
Now at twenty-five, he had to endure his brother’s seat turning vacant.
We watched as one as the pyre burned low. By dawn, it was a smoldering heap. The bones, once cooled, would be collected and given to Dorothea, who insisted on the Last Rites of the Church and a Christian burial for her oldest child.
“We need to fill the position,” Korinna said finally, breaking the heavy silence.
Atlas nodded, his expression grim. “Blood calls for blood, but patience demands wisdom.”
“We’ll compile a list from the soldiers,” Iris clipped out. “We don’t want to leave ourselves vulnerable. Whoever did this knows we’re down a chair.”
With her wise words echoing in our minds, we began to disperse, drifting away one by one.
I lingered, watching the embers fade to ash. Atlas remained as well, his imposing silhouette stark against the dying firelight.
“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?” he asked without looking at me.
I didn’t deny it. “I’m going to find answers.”
“There’s a difference between finding answers and seeking revenge,” Atlas said, finally turning to face me. The dawn light caught the silver at his temples. “One serves the family. The other serves your pride.”
“And if they’re the same thing?”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Markos, we’ve lost enough blood. I need your head clear.”
“My head is clear,” I countered. “Clearer than it’s been in years.”
“The business with that girl proves otherwise.”
“She has nothing to do with this,” I growled. It was the expansion into the East Coast markets I was after, even though I hadn’t thought of the more personal goal attached to that conquest in days.
Atlas stared at me for a long moment. “I need you to make sure she isn’t a risk. We can’t afford a weak point, now more than ever.”
He was right—as usual, the bastard. “I’m handling it.”
“I know you will. And Markos? Don’t get caught snooping,” Atlas said dryly. “I don’t want to light you on fire next.”
That was as close to affection as the king was capable of.
“I’m touched by your concern,” I said, matching his dry tone. The funeral’s solemnity had drained from us, replaced by the more familiar undercurrent of dark humor that kept us sane in this life.
Atlas gave me a look that said he saw through my deflection. “The girl, Markos. Deal with her.”
I nodded curtly, knowing further argument would only raise suspicions.
My house guest was nothing more than a temporary distraction—a beautiful accident that complicated my plans.
But something about her quick wit and the way she looked at me—like she saw past the monstrous facade—had kept me coming back.
And the fact that she was brave enough to kiss my scarred visage.... Dammit.
Thinking of that kiss was driving me to the brink of insanity.
“I’ll handle it,” I assured him again, already calculating how to navigate this delicate situation without bloodshed. Just because no one had come forward to challenge my protection didn’t mean Serena was safe here.
Dawn broke fully as I made my way back to the marina and my vehicle, the weight of the last twenty-four hours settling on me like a chain.
Another breakfast, this one to be finished, tempted me to turn left at the fork.
But business waited for me in the city. As I turned right, I focused all my attention on making Serena my business.
Dark thoughts formed, calculated plans shifted, and by the time I was on the beltway, cruising toward Tampa, I had an inkling of an idea what to do with my little princess.
Giving her a purpose would ensure she stayed indefinitely.
What that purpose was, however, taunted every fiber of my creativity.