I felt a cold flutter of something close to panic, a rarity for me because I was so used to only having to worry about myself. Though I'd dreamed of escaping my father's control for years, the reality of it happening so fast left me almost bereft. And Alaric confronting him directly? That could go badly in ways I couldn't even imagine.
Alaric caught my hand, bringing it to his lips. The gentle press of his mouth against my knuckles contrasted with the steel in his eyes.
"I've dealt with men like your father my entire life. This conversation is long overdue." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "I'll be perfectly fine. Men like Darius only have power when others fear them."
I swallowed hard, unable to quell the anxiety rising in my chest. "You don't know him like I do."
"I know him better. I've seen his financials, his debts, his dealings. I know exactly who your father is. I only wish I’d known how that would affect you long before today." He gently clasped my chin. "But I think you’re forgetting who I am.”
I blinked up at him, suddenly aware I'd lost myself for a moment. He was right—I'd forgotten who he was. Alaric Kostas wasn't just any man; he was power incarnate.
"You're right," I admitted. “But I've lived with his consequences my entire life."
Alaric's fingers tightened on my chin, not painfully but with enough pressure to ensure I couldn't look away. "And now you'll live with mine."
The words should have terrified me. This was dangerous—the way my body responded to him, the way something inside me recognized his darkness and reached for it like a flower turning toward the sun.
"What exactly are you going to do?" I asked.
"I'm going to remind him who he’s made a deal with." His hand fell away from my face, but his eyes remained locked with mine for a moment longer, promising things that made my breath catch. "Penelope will join you in ten minutes.”
He pressed one more kiss to my forehead before stepping back. "I won’t be long.”
With that, he turned and walked away, his steps unhurried yet purposeful. I watched him disappear up the winding path. The silence that followed felt oppressive. I sank back onto the bench, suddenly aware of Santos's presence at the edge of the gazebo. He stood like a sentinel, his gaze sweeping the garden perimeter.
"Alaric won't hurt him," he commented after a moment, his voice startling me. "Not physically, at least."
I looked up, surprised by the unsolicited reassurance. "You can't know that."
And I wouldn’t care if Alaric removed my father from this earth entirely,” I added silently.
"I've been with the Kostas family for twenty-seven years," he replied, his eyes still scanning the grounds. "I know how Mr. Kostas operates. Your father will be intact when he's done. His pride is another matter."
There was something almost comforting in his certainty. I decided to take his words at face value.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’d always known Darzi was a real piece of shit. I'd never realized just how much until I saw the way he treated Selene. Fathers were strict, but they didn’t resort to cruelty or seek out reasons to enact some bullshit punishment.
Selene hadn’t said a word against him until that came up and it was clear to anyone with eyes the two did not have a good relationship despite him forcing the rumors otherwise. She wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. I’d meant what I told her.
When I arrived at his home, it was silent as a tomb.
The dumb fuck didn’t lock his door, allowing me to walk right in with my brother and Derrick trailing behind me. The air smelled of the very lemon polish Selene had just told me she hated. Something told me he did that on purpose. He’d taken away everything she wanted to love and given quantities of things she disliked instead.
An elderly man in a pressed uniform stiffened at the sight of us standing in the marble foyer.
"Mr. Kostas," he managed, voice barely above a whisper. “Mr.…Voss,” he added at the sight of Derrick.
"Where is he?" I asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
His Adam's apple dipped sharply. "Master bedroom. Second floor."
I nodded once and moved past him without another word.
Cassian and Derrick flanked me silently as we ascended the grand staircase. Household staff scattered like roaches when exposed to light, ducking into side rooms as our footsteps echoed through the corridors.
The master suite occupied the center of the mansion—typical of men like Darzi, who built shrines to themselves at the core of their domains.
