But I just smile. At least now I know for sure he'll forgive me. Because if he's willing to kill his own father for me, for us, for our future, then surely he'll understand why I had to do it first.
"Yes, Cal."
I smile. "I love you."
He squeezes my hand. "I love you, too, orea mou."
He walks out of the room and I hear a buzzing noise. I walk over to my nightstand and open it.
It's a burner phone. Declan got them for us.
It's a text from Keira:
Dec's in position. Kitchen staff briefing in an hour. You good?
I type back.
Ready.
But I'm not ready. I don't think anyone is ever ready to become a killer. I think you just decide that some things are worth fighting for, even if that means doing it will change you forever.
34
NIKO
Idon't know how many sons think about killing their father.
Sure, you get angry. Disagree. Maybe you say shit you don't mean. But kill? Fuck, that's twisted and I know it. You don’t just walk away from something like that.
And yet, here I am.
Thing is, I understand now that you don't arrive at this point by accident. You don't wake up one morning and decide to end a life, especially not the one that gave you yours. No. You get dragged here. Kicked. Beaten. Broken down until you can't see things clearly anymore.
Or maybe, seeing clearly is exactly what's happening now. Where the only way forward is to remove what's been poisoning everything.
Since Calli told me she was pregnant, I've thought a lot about what it means to be a "father." And not just the title, the real meaning behind it.
It means things like being there for them. Teaching them right and wrong. Supporting them. Helping them. Encouraging them.
Any man can become a father by the simple act of sex, but to be a real father, that title has to be earned.
And Stavros never fucking earned that.
So as I walk through the grounds under the guise of doing a final security check for tomorrow's gala, it's not as shocking as it might seem that it's come to this.
My footsteps tap against the stone path connecting the three mansions that make up the estate. It's quiet now, but tomorrow it'll be anything but.
I told Calli I'd been in Athens. That was half true. I did have to take care of some things there, but I also had to stop by here. I'm still arriving at the hotel in Kosta this evening, just as planned. The boat I hired is waiting for me at the private dock, ready to ferry me back as soon as I finish what I came to do.
She'll never know I was here until I tell her after this is all over. She'll know everything once Stavros is rotting cold in his casket.
The cool night air carries the familiar smells of the sea as I try to push out the fact that my heart is heavy. Not because I doubt what must be done, but because I wish I didn't have to be the one to do it. Wish the man who raised me, if you can call it that, had done even one fucking thing to to show me love. To earn that title.
But he didn't. He never wanted a son. He wanted a weapon. Something he could mold and use until I either broke or became just like him. And even if I did, I'm not sure he'd ever accept me.
And I know something's up. The way he changed his normal callus ways when I told him about the pregnancy. The way he had me invite her here. It's part of a larger plot, one that I know I won't like and one that could end with Calli, or me, dead.
I will not let that fucking happen.
