Chapter 47
Vivi
THAT SAME NIGHT…
“Prayers for a Killer”
The evening felt heavy long before Ares arrived. But a mother always knows when something has shifted when her son says he’s coming over after midnight.
I had been sitting at my small prayer table near the window for almost an hour. My rosary rested in my hands, beads sliding slowly between my fingers while I whispered quiet prayers.
Protection.
Mercy.
Guidance.
Things mothers pray for when their sons walk paths the world would never understand.
I heard a keycard hit my door.
I stood and opened the door before Ares could reach for it again.
He stepped inside without a word.
Ares looked exactly the way his father always did after business.
Calm.
Controlled.
But I knew him too well.
The energy around him was negative tonight, and I knew it was bothering him.
He took off his blazer and laid it across the chair by the door.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“I was waiting.”
He walked toward the window, hands resting in his pockets.
“It’s done.”
That was enough.
I didn’t ask for details.
I never did.
When your family lives in a world like ours, you learn very early that some truths are better left between a man and God.
I crossed the room slowly and placed my hand gently on his shoulder.
“You did what had to be done.”
He didn’t answer right away.
“I know you know that Marcel gave me a list,” he said after a moment.
“Yes.”
“I started it tonight. With Sir.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Lord, have mercy on us.
He turned slightly toward me.
“You know the kind of people on that list?”
I nodded. “I do.”
His voice dropped lower. “Predators.”
My son had always hated them.
Even as a boy.
He had a fury for men who hurt children that burned hotter than anything else in him.
Which was exactly why Marcel had given him that responsibility. To me, it was cruel to give my baby that kind of responsibility, but only he could execute it.
“Then you did God’s work tonight,” I said lowly.
Ares let out a slow breath. “Maybe.”
I walked toward the small cabinet near the prayer table and opened the drawer.
Inside sat a small bottle of oil.
Blessed anointing oil from the cathedral.
Next to it was a gold cross on a thin chain.
I turned back to him.
“Sit.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly but obeyed, lowering himself into the chair near the prayer table like he had done a thousand times when he was younger.
He was a powerful man now.
A feared one.
But here he was still just my boy.
I dipped my thumb into the oil and placed it gently against his forehead.
“In the name of the Father…”
I drew the small cross across his skin.
“…and of the Son…”
Then over his chest.
“…and of the Holy Spirit.”
The scent of olive oil and incense filled the small room.
Ares sat still while I prayed over him.
“Lord protect my son from the darkness that follows men who carry swords.”
My voice stayed soft but steady.
“Protect his mind.”
“Protect his heart.”
“And forgive him for the things he must do in a world that refuses to protect the innocent.”
I wiped the oil from my fingers and placed the gold cross in his hand.
“Keep this on you.”
He looked down at it.
“Your grandmother gave that to me when I was younger than you.”
I handed him the small bottle of oil next.
“And this stays with you.”
He slipped the cross over his neck.
The chain rested against his chest.
“You still believe prayer changes anything?” he asked.
I smiled slightly. “I believe it keeps the devil from getting comfortable.”
That made him chuckle.
He stood and kissed my cheek.
“I’m going back to Monaco tomorrow by train.”
“Be careful, Ares, and you are doing a good job with Yuna. She is almost ready.”
He walked toward the door, then paused.
“Thank you... for being a good mother to me.”
The door closed behind him.
I returned to the prayer table slowly and picked up my rosary again.
Because when your son carries the weight of justice on his shoulders…
You pray even harder for his soul.