Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
CYRUS
T he air reeks of dead fish and sea salt as I walk over the gravel parking lot to the warehouse everyone is gathered in. I pull open the steel door, and cigarette smoke assaults me. I pass a few of my uncle’s lower-level men and don’t even bother making eye contact. They know who I am, and while there’s no love lost between my uncle and I, I’m still afforded privileges as his nephew.
As I enter the main room, I look over to the corner where Nicholai is perched on a bar stool. He gives me the subtlest of nods as I continue walking slowly through the room. I find a table of guys I’ve known forever playing poker. I take an empty seat, waiting to be dealt in on the next hand. One of the girls walks by and sets a beer in front of me.
I toss a wad of cash onto the table as my buy-in while we all catch up. I don’t care if I lose, I’m putting in appearances for an hour until the real show begins. I laugh and listen to the guys bullshit each other while I scope out the room.
Andreas has a diversion set up to clear the space out. I’m not sure what it is because we haven’t been able to communicate openly. Georgios is paranoid the older he gets, especially with no one challenging him to take over the organization since my parents died.
I’m nearly positive their deaths were at his hand. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The older I’ve gotten, and the more digging I’ve done, I’ve come to the conclusion that unless he tells me exactly what happened, I’ll never know. I’m fine with that.
I just want out of this. I don’t want to be beholden to him anymore. I want a life with Harper and Emerson and to watch Declan and Banks love her in their way. I want the family I chose instead of the one I was unlucky enough to be born into. But, more than anything, I need to know they’ll be safe. It’s the most important thing to me.
Everyone’s head jerks at the sound of gunfire from outside. Chairs fall as the men shoot to their feet and rush toward the exits. I know that there’s been tension over drug trafficking with some rivals from Albania. I stand but look to Nicholai for confirmation that this is the diversion.
As soon as he inclines his head, I go the opposite way, heading for my uncle’s office, which is where I know he’ll be holed up. He rarely leaves the safety of the space unless he’s coming over to the states. I doubt he’s even seen his wife in months.
“Cyrus, why are you back here instead of securing your family’s fortune with everyone else?”
Nicholai and Andreas walk up behind me, flanking me on both sides. I stiffen; it’d be so easy for them to double cross me right now, to throw me as a sacrificial lamb to my bloodthirsty uncle. But I stay strong. If this is the last thing I do, so help me he’s going out of this world alongside me.
“My family is secure.”
His dark brows lower as he stands. “I am your family.” He gestures at the men behind me. “They are your family.”
“You’re not.” I sneer over my shoulder at them. “They fucking aren’t close to being family either.”
More gunshots ring out through the night. The sound of car engines revving and tires peeling out over gravel fill the silence as my uncle morphs into the monster he’s always been. Any family resemblance evaporates as his eyes harden.
“If you feel that way, there’s no reason to keep you around.” He pulls a gun from the drawer. “Should I pull the trigger and make it quick?”
“I’m not scared of you or death. I welcome it. I’m sick of being used.”
“Ah but you’re such a good fighting dog.” He walks around his desk, gun in hand.
I need him to come closer. I’m not shooting him. I’m killing him with my father’s knife. The one that was used against him in this very warehouse years ago. When my uncle dies, it won’t be fast.
He jerks his head, gesturing for Nicholai to grab my arms. He holds me in a loose grip, one that eases my fear of double cross. Especially when the hilt of my knife is so close to my fingers.
“I should put the bullet right between your eyes just like the worthless dog that you are.”
I spit in his face, relishing the look of shock and utter disgust that fills his expression. Blinding pain ricochets through my face as the butt of his gun cracks against my cheekbone. I smile as blood fills my mouth. Violence seeps through my veins, a sickness that he coaxed and tended since I was a child.
Nicholai drops my arms, and I shoot forward, head butting Georgios before he knows what’s happening. I pull my knife out and slam his old body back against the desk. He bucks against me and barks orders for his two highest ranking men who do nothing but walk out of the room.
I watch with glee as panic fills his eyes when he realizes he’s been set up. His fingers struggle to move my hand from his neck, but I don’t feel the scratches. I feel nothing but joy at knowing that I’m about to end his miserable life. One of his hands drops and he grabs a stapler, hitting me in the temple.
The thing is, he turned me into a fighter. I’m a beast of his own making, and he’s not strong enough to put me down. He knows it, but he’s not going to give up. I slam my knife into the hand that held the stapler. The sound of his howl of pain eases the ache inside my temple.
“If you kill me, no one will take out your girlfriend’s dad in prison. I’m the one with all the connections.”
“Liar.” I twist the knife, feeling it scrape against the bones in his hand as his blood coats my fingers and puddles beneath us. “I’d walk into that prison before I let you live and continue to use me.” I pull the knife out of his hand and stab it into his shoulder.
He doesn’t react, so I do it again, specifically avoiding anything vital. I have a lot of pain to give him before I end him. I want him to bleed out of as many holes as scars he gave me. As I pull the knife from his body again, I feel the unmistakable feeling of being stabbed. I lean over his body, my hand pressing against his airway as he turns from pink to purple to blue with oxygen depravation. While he’s struggling for breath, I look down and see a letter opener sticking out from my side.
I yank it out with a grunt and stab it through his palm and into the desk. I release his neck, and as he wheezes in a breath, I stab my knife through the other hand again, pinning it place. I take a step back and wipe blood from my eye. With each breath that I take, pain shoots through me from the stab wound. I can feel the blood seeping from me, but I’m not stopping.
I unbuckle my belt and horror fills his gaze.
“No. Cyrus. No. You’re named after the strongest man in our family. You’re better than this.”
“Relax, uncle, I’m not going to do anything you haven’t done to me.” I tear his shirt open, his flabby belly rising and falling with labored breaths.
The first crack of my belt against his skin is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever felt. Joy hums through my body as I give him every strike he’s ever given me, over and over. By the time I’m done, sweat has mixed with my blood and my vision is hazy.
My uncle’s body lies bleeding and feeble across his desk. Welts and cuts crisscross his torso, and his blood drips from the top of the desk down to the floor at his feet. I slide my belt under his neck and feed the end through the buckle. He’s given up the fight as he lies there. His eyes hold mine as I tighten the leather and strangle the life from his evil body.
I don’t feel an ounce of remorse as I watch him take his last breath. If I could have made his suffering worse, I would have. The door creaks open behind me, and Andreas pulls me away from the body.
Nicholai begins the clean up and disposal of Georgios body. I assume they’ll entomb him in cement and drop him into the bottom of the Mediterranean.
Good fucking riddance.
Andreas guides me out of the now empty building and to his car. He grabs me by the collar when I open the door to sit down. “Wait,” he instructs in his heavy Greek accent. “Get blood in my car, and you’ll join uncle in hell.” He grabs a blanket from the back and lays it carefully over the seat.
I drop heavily into the seat once he’s done. He closes the door for me and walks around the front of the car. I feel nothing as he drives me back to the dock where the yacht is waiting for me.
“When I was going through all the accounts Georgios had, I found something you might be interested in.”
“Yeah?” I don’t bother trying to move my head, it hurts too much to try.
“There were all the organization accounts, we’re keeping those.”
Of course. I never assumed I’d walk away with any money.
“But we also found one hidden with your parents’ names. We’ve transferred the balances to your accounts. It’s nearly three hundred million euros.”
Fuck the pain. I look over at him. “How?”
“My best guess is that they knew they were going to be taken out, so they hid the money away.”
I let the knowledge of my newfound wealth sink in. That’s life changing money. Between that money and finally being free of my uncle, I’m set. I could drop out of school and make art on my own terms for the rest of my life, never worrying about my uncle pulling me back into his criminal schemes.
I’ve thought about this moment so many times. Would I immediately feel freer, lighter, without the threat of my family always lingering over me? Would I feel alone? Right now, I’m just numb. I can’t even feel my injuries, the endorphins from the night mixed with the news that I’m now wealthier than I ever imagined are still pumping through my veins. No doubt I’ll feel everything tomorrow.
He pulls up to the dock, and after a brief goodbye, I walk down to the yacht. I have a piece of the blanket I sat on pressed against my stab wound, so I’m not dripping a trail of blood behind me. I will have to pay to have the yacht cleaned, though; there’s no way that I’m not getting it all over the interior of the boat. Especially when Emerson cleans me up.
I don’t see any of the staff as I step aboard, which is what I’d prefer. I go down the exterior staircase to the side entrance of the level with all the staterooms. As soon as I push open the door to Emerson’s room, I’m greeted by the sight of him and Harper laying in bed together.
They sit up from under the covers as soon as they see me. Emerson launches himself off the bed when his eyes lock on my bloodied and pale skin. Harper’s color drains as she takes in my appearance and jumps out of bed to help me as well.
“Cy, oh my god. What happened?” She starts undoing the buttons of my shirt while Emerson leads us to the en suite.
“I killed my uncle.” I deliver the words in a detached, cold manor while looking down at her. A perverse part of me wants to push her away, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s a test to see if she’ll still love me at my worst. Either way it’s fucked.
She halts. Her beautiful hazel eyes look up and lock on mine. “Good. I hope you made it hurt.”
I love her.
I love her in such a brutal way that it rips me apart at the seams of my scars. All the tiny drops of goodness I’ve managed to hide away in the depths of my dark soul belong to her now. I belong to her, to him. My gaze breaks from hers to look up at Emerson as he pushes my hair back to examine my split temple.
“I love you.” I look back and forth between them. “I love you both.”
The words tumble from me before I can think better of it. Harper’s eyes go glassy as she looks up at me. A tear overflows and rolls down her cheek.
“I’m sorry.” I lift my hand and wipe it away with my thumb, leaving a smudge of pink on her cheek from my blood. “I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. Just forget I said anything.”
“No.” She pulls me down to her level by the lapels of my shirt. “Say it again.” Her voice is a confusing mix of anguish and hope.
“I love you.”
Her lips crash against mine. Our tongues tangle together in a desperate, powerful clash. We pour every single emotion into this kiss. I know I’m bleeding from where I was stabbed, but the high of touching her chases the dizziness away.
“I love you, too,” she says as she pulls away.
I crush her against me and bury my head in her hair. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” My heart fucking bursts at the seams at the happiness I hear in her voice.
“I hate to break this up, but blood is literally seeping out of your body. If you want to avoid going to the hospital, you need to let me close you up.” Emerson is all business, as he usually is when he’s forced to patch me back together.
I pull my shirt off and drop it on the floor, looking down at the puncture wound. “He got me with a letter opener.”
“And your cheek?”
“Butt of his gun.”
“Temple?”
“I headbutted him.” I look down at myself. “You’ve seen me worse.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Is it over now?”
“Yes.” Our eyes lock and I see the unguarded hope shining from his eyes. “No more working or fighting for my family.”
He turns quickly away and nods. “Good.” He blinks quickly as he opens the first aid kit he brought from home. “I’m going to have to stitch that wound closed. We don’t have any anesthetic.”
“I’ll be fine. Harper can hold my hand.” I shoot her a smile. “Unless seeing it is going to make you queasy.”
“I’ll be fine. Blood doesn’t bother me.”
She watches intently as Emerson cleans the area and preps the surgical needle and sutures. Since the blade was small, it doesn’t take him long to get me all closed up. He frowns as he looks at my face and gently presses against the swelling in my cheek.
“I think you might have a fracture here.” He pulls off the gloves he was wearing and tosses them in the trash. “It would probably be a good idea to get that checked out by an actual doctor in a hospital.”
“No.”
He rolls his eyes at my refusal.
“How did you learn to do that?” Harper asks him.
“YouTube tutorials mostly. Cy’s been fighting since we were kids. It just always fell to me to fix him up.” He frowns when he looks at her. “You have his blood all over you. You both should clean up and go to bed.”
Her eyes meet mine right before she pulls her shirt over her head and drops it on the floor. “This shower is big enough for the three of us.”