"That's it?" His voice had gone cold. "That's what you have to say about my daughter? She deserved better?"
"She did," I said. "So does Mila."
The silence stretched.
Under the table, Diego laced his swollen fingers through mine and held on tight.
I looked at him. He clenched his jaw and blinked hard, eyes going wet. When he opened them, he looked at me like he'd never stop.
A tear ran down my cheek. I wiped it with my free hand and put it back on the katana.
Eight set the butter knife on the table. She lined it up beside her teacup, handle toward her, blade toward Zeus.
"And that's supposed to comfort her?" Zeus's voice cut through the courtyard. "That you showed up bleeding on her birthday and offered her platitudes?"
He stood. He took his time doing it, straightening his cuffs like a man excusing himself from dinner.
I stood with him.
Diego let go of my hand. He tensed, ready to move.
Zeus curled his fingers around his sword hilt. "You were supposed to be my legacy, Jasper. You and Nadia together. Instead, I got a dead daughter and a granddaughter I had to raise alone while you ran."
"You made me into this," I said.
"I know." He squeezed the hilt until his knuckles went white. "That's what makes it unforgivable."
Eight turned to Diego. She slid off her chair and crossed to him without a word. Diego pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her face into his shoulder.
"When can we go home?" she asked, her voice muffled against Diego's shirt.
Diego tightened his arms around her. He looked at me, then at Zeus.
"Soon, pequeña," he said quietly. "Real soon."
Zeus went still.
"Home," he repeated.
Eight lifted her head from Diego's shoulder. "I want to go home," she said again, louder this time.
Zeus locked his jaw. "This is your home, Eight. I built this for you. Everything here is yours."
"No." She shook her head. "Home is where Diego makes eggs. Where Jasper smokes on the porch. That's home."
Zeus tightened his mouth. Then his face went smooth and cold.
"I see." He kept his hand on his sword. "Nine years I've given you. Nine years of safety, of training, of love. And you'd throw it all away for what? Scrambled eggs and cigarettes?"
"Zeus," I said.
Diego shifted Eight behind him without letting her go. He brought the shotgun up with his free hand and winced when the motion jarred his ribs.
Zeus drew his sword. The blade caught the dawn light and threw it back sharply.
"You don't get to take her from me," he said. "Not after everything."
I raised the katana. "She's not yours to keep."
