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“That’s why she named you Andromache,” he concludes, and I nod. “It’s a beautiful name.”
My cheeks warm at this, and I polish off my cookie before dusting my fingers and wrapping my hand around the mug tighter. “Thanks.” Silence falls upon us, and I’m desperate to fill it because, all things considered, I have to think about how bizarre it is to talk about Troy. “Your favorite character probably was Achilles. The brave and ruthless warrior.”
“No. He was Santiago’s favorite, and it made sense.” He doesn’t elaborate, though. “And before you ask your next question, the answer is no as well. Remi’s middle name is Odysseus, so that’s his favorite.” That leaves only one character a man like Octavius could have admired, and goose bumps break on my skin as he exhales more smoke while the rain intensifies and the scent of freshly wet asphalt tickles my nose. “Hector.”
“Why?”
“We read Iliad as kids, and I admired his love for his family. He spoke to me on a deeper level as much as a character can speak to a seven-year-old child.” He puffs more smoke, and then finally comes back inside. Going to the bar, he presses the butt in the ashtray. “Or maybe deep down, I longed for things I never knew. To have a rightful place in my family instead of being treated like a bastard who had no voice. An heir without a crown. Instead, I wore invisible manacles with sharp edges, making me bleed every single day.”
My soul cries out to the anguish burrowing in his words, everything in me craving to soothe it and discover what had happened in his past to mold him into the man he had become.
“Your stepfather…he was abusive?”
“Would it change anything if I said yes?” I still, my lips pressed to the rim of the mug as our gazes clash. “Even if he was a piece of shit who abused me, would it justify me murdering him and my best friends helping me cover it all up?”
“I don’t know. What were the circumstances?” I reply honestly, and judging by his face, he didn’t expect me to say that. “It shouldn’t matter because a crime is a crime. Countless people go through such hardships and come out stronger from it, seeking goodness and striving to be better than their abusers. I admire them for it. Laws exist to protect us, and we need to respect them. We have no right to decide who gets to live or die.”
“I admire them for it as well. They have strength and light, so they have all my respect.”
“But…”
“But I couldn’t do it. I’m a monster, and while I kill my own kind, I still kill. At the end of the day, we can’t change our nature.”
His own kind.
“Does this mean you don’t murder innocent people?”
He grabs the bottle and drinks straight from it. “We hope for grays in pretty clear situations when we wish for the impossible. Because when we crave something or someone…we don’t listen to common sense and follow our selfish desires. It’s human nature to feed our delusions as we refuse to face reality. My answer changes nothing, Isla. No matter my reasons, victims, or crimes…I’m a murderer. You can’t justify that. You can only accept it.”
Fear sinks into my bones because I know he’s right. I can spin all this till I turn blue, but it won’t change the reality. It’ll just make me exist in a bubble where I try to pretend I married a good man, and while he might be good…he’s evil too.
However, I hear the ultimatum loud and clear. I either accept him and this lifestyle or suffer because he has no intention of ever letting me go.
Putting the mug on the table, I ponder his words for several beats and ask, “What sane woman would accept it?”
Another greedy gulp while the tapping of raindrops becomes so loud, it leaves no doubt it will last the whole night. “Your best friend comes to mind.”
No.
I might have suspected it, but the confirmation still shocks me.
“My best friend…”
“Married a murderer. Actually, everyone who attended their wedding is a murderer in one way or the other,” he hisses through his teeth. “We tend to mingle together, it seems.”
Despite my refusal to believe it, though, memories flash in my head one after another of all these people and Giselle’s weird behavior when it came to Callum’s past or even his present. I just assumed they had a couple of secrets and minded my own business.
I always suspected something was off about all his friends. I got that from Amalia’s file too but…not this. Just some brotherhoods doing shady things and all.
“Nothing to say?”
I get up and cross my arms while amusement dances in his eyes, and I sense a challenge coming from him while he watches my reaction to this information.
Another test.
“I have a lot to say to my best friend. Not that I can be mad at her because that’s not something you share…ever.” I swallow and play with my skirt, watching the silk reflect the light. “All of you are clearly insane, but you don’t kill innocent people. This I know now without a shadow of a doubt.”
He places the bottle back on the bar and steps forward as the wind whooshes inside. His wet shirt emphasizes his carved muscle, and everything in me reacts to him. “And what makes you so sure, kitten?”
