Chapter 26 – Serena
The sun beat down relentlessly. Wishing I had taken the pirate up on the offer of the salve, I ducked under the shade of a palm.
We might be of Mediterranean heritage, but the midday light was merciless, plus there was nothing but white sand and water for it to reflect off.
My olive complexion was tame and wouldn’t hold against this force of nature.
But going back to the boat right now was not an option.
I wiped the back of my hand over my forehead, all too aware of the thick metal weapon clutched in my sweaty hand.
Markos told me to walk around the island, keeping to the shore, and look for shells.
The gun was for if I saw a snake. I would probably die of fright before I had the good sense to pull the trigger, but I would be damned if I told the mobster that.
It was a three-mile walk total, and no doubt he figured that gave him plenty of time to work the assassin over.
The idiot had tried to kill us. He deserved to die. But torture?
Gooseflesh broke over my arms. On the list of scary things that had happened to me over the course of my short life, being shot at wasn’t even on the top. Being kidnapped by Eastern European thugs had come close, but that turned out alright because there was a pirate there to rescue me.
I snorted. Who would have thought being rescued by a man was a good thing?
But no, the worst was that moonlit piazza when I was fifteen and stupid. Just a girl wanting to have fun. I’d had no street smarts, and it nearly cost me everything.
No, being shot at was a different kind of exhilarating frenzy. One that kept the men of the famiglia from seeking honest work. A quandary I now understood.
Alessandro never let me anywhere near the family business. My big brother might have died of a stroke if I suggested accompanying him or his mutt Dante to this part of the empire. Yet despite every rational argument, curiosity tickled the back of my mind.
I hadn’t gone far, less than a quarter of the way, not that I was a good judge of distance. With cautious steps, I doubled back. Dread pooled in the bottom of my stomach. I wasn’t scared of seeing Markos work over someone. I should have been, but I wasn’t.
No, I was scared to face him.
I didn’t want to feel that terrible wrath directed at me.
Sweat slid down my spine as I crept back toward the boat. The sand crunched beneath my feet, too loud to my own ears. I tried walking closer to the water where the sand was packed firmer, my footfalls less audible.
The boat came into view around the bend of the shore, bobbing gently in the shallow waters. I slowed my pace, listening. No screams. No sounds of violence. Just the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the distant cry of seagulls.
Maybe I was too late? Or perhaps Markos had taken him elsewhere?
I hesitated at the edge of a cluster of palms, my heart thundering in my chest. This was stupid. I should turn around, continue my shell-hunting charade, pretend I knew nothing of the family business. That was how I’d been raised. It was what my big brother said would keep me safe.
Fuck him.
I wanted this. Why did the men horde that sense of belonging to themselves all while keeping us out in the name of protection? Dammit, where was my seat at the table? Alessandro gave one to his wife—willingly!
A terrible crunch sounded louder than the waves. The scream that followed pierced the very air with the note of pain, the melody of despair. The certainty of death.
I stopped, hand resting on the rough bark of a palm tree.
Markos squatted, thick thighs parted and hands clasped as though he were in prayer. The assassin was a heap on the ground, writhing and twitching.
“Took a nap there, did ya, bud?” Markos cajoled. “I’ll be needing an answer before I let you take a good, long one.”
A gut-wrenching blubbering choked the man.
“Who sent you?” Markos insisted.
“No one!” the assassin wept. “I did it. It was all me.”
Markos sighed. “Here’s the thing, someone is coming for my family. One of us is already dead, and then I discover you, trying to off me. Forgive me for checking my bases, but due diligence is a requirement for a man of my position.”
Blood and saliva leaked from the man’s mouth, long tendrils whipping about as he vigorously shook his head. “No one, no one!”
“Let’s try something smaller, shall we?” With lightning speed, Markos shot forward, broke a bone in the man’s finger, and then retreated to a safe distance.
The assassin howled. “You took my brother out fishing, Black Tide. He’s been gone for weeks. He didn’t do anything except fall asleep on the job. Once! And for that, he died?”
My heart thumped heavily.
I crept forward, raising my weapon. Markos lifted that piercing blue gaze the moment my finger curled around the trigger.
In the echoes of the shot, the whimpering ceased.
“I saw a big snake,” I whispered, dropping the gun into the sand.
Blood pooled faster than the sand could soak it. But the next moment, a wave raced up the shore, licking the crimson stain and dispersing the evidence of my first kill.
“They say you have to make a kill to join the mob—is this true?” I spoke, the voice that came out was not my own.
The next moment, a shadow rose before me. Markos was so tall that he blocked the sun, capturing my shoulders under his palms and turning me away from the carnage.
“Serena—”
“Don’t coddle me,” I choked. “Does this make me a Made Man? In your organization?”
Markos let out a short, hard breath through his nose. “If you want it to be, then I’ll see that it counts.”
“Good.” I swallowed thickly. “That’s...good.”
Markos drew me away, going to a spot of the beach where the slope of the sand hid the mess. He sat cross-legged, drawing me down to sit opposite him.
“I never wanted you to see that part of me,” Markos said, voice soft as though his focus was very far away. “But who was I kidding? I look like a monster. There’s no hiding what I am.”
But I’m not screaming; I’m not running.
What did that say about me? I met his eyes, searching the blue depths for regret or disgust. I found neither. Just a steady, calculating gaze that seemed to penetrate my soul.
“You’re not a monster, Markos,” I said finally. The words felt strange on my tongue, like I was speaking a language I barely understood. “You’re a businessman. One with extreme methods, perhaps, but a businessman nonetheless. Trust me, I’ve seen real demons.”
Seen. Heard of their existence. Same thing.
He laughed, a short, humorless sound. “Is that what you see? Who did you grow up around that you can brush off my actions under the umbrella of doing business?”
Merda. The truth was so close to coming out.
Part of me wanted to just tell him, to release the secret and see where the cards fell. The trickle of fear, the one that whispered ugly things—such as his disowning me or worse—kept those words from my tongue.
“It’s not just business. I see someone who protects what’s his.
” I looked down at my hands. They were steady.
Shouldn’t they be shaking? I had just killed a man.
I studied his face, the sharp angles and scars that had intimidated me just days ago.
The man they called Black Tide. The smuggler who made grown men weep before they died.
“You’re not a bad man,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. “You’re surviving. Just like we all are.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing me. “You just killed a man, Serena. How does that make you feel?”
The question hung between us, heavy as the humid air. I should have felt sick, horrified, broken. But all I felt was a strange, hollow calm.
“Like I’ve stepped through a door I can’t close,” I answered honestly. “Like I’ve always been standing on this side of it anyway, just pretending I wasn’t.”
Markos nodded slowly. “I’m beginning to think I was wrong. Maybe you do belong here, Serena.”
Those words sent a shot of hope through me.
Despite the mess of being forced to marry him, I felt like I was finally ready to make my entrance onto the stage of life. But Markos wasn’t out there with me. His emotions were shadowed, but I caught a whiff of something lost and forlorn.
Without thinking twice, I pushed forward, braced my hands on his shoulders, and kissed him.
And damn me, the monster kissed me back.
His lips were firm, unyielding at first, then softened as his surprise wore off. One hand came up to cradle my jaw, his touch gentler than I would have expected from hands that had just inflicted such violence. I tasted salt on his lips—the taste of the ocean.
When we broke apart, his eyes were darker, pupils dilated. Neither of us spoke for a long moment. The waves continued their rhythmic dance against the shore, indifferent to the chaos of human emotion playing out on the sand.
“Why did you do that?” he asked finally, voice rough.
I shrugged, trying for nonchalance despite the hammering of my heart. “Seemed like the thing to do.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” I smirked but sobered quickly. “What do we do with the...uh, you know....”
“The body?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Chum the waters. There are quite a few sharks in these parts.”
With a yelp, I shot back, scooting far out of the reach of the waves. Markos doubled over laughing. I scowled at him.
“Don’t worry, prinkípissa, I’m the worst thing you’ll find on this beach.”
Now that, I believed.