“How the hell did he even know we were—”
I stop short and turn to Drago in disbelief. “The call you made earlier,” I practically scream at him. “You called him?”
Drago actually has the balls to look smug. “I told you, little whore,” he glowers at me. “I’m the one who pulls the strings.”
He’s about to fling another insult at me when the sound of a gunshot bursts through the air. Drago freezes, his mouth forming a little O shape. And then he drops to the floor.
Two of Rokiades’s men leap onto the boat, backing me down and roaring orders in Greek that I don’t understand. I look past them at Rokiades’s triumphant expression. The bloodlust on his face is nauseating and I feel my body seize up as his men approach me.
I glance around quickly, trying to look for a way out of this. I could jump out of the yacht, but where would that leave me?
Drowning in a dark harbor, that’s where.
Rokiades has me cornered. The most I can do here is keep my dignity intact.
“Rokiades!” Drago screams in agony as he flops around on the deck, bleeding out like a stuck pig. “You fucking asshole! You need me!”
Rokiades’s laughter carries all the way over to us. “Need you?” he scoffs. “I never needed you. I needed her. And thanks to you, I have her.”
More of his men converge on me from either side and grab me with rough hands. As they drag me towards Rokiades’s boat, he gives a loud command that Drago is no doubt meant to hear.
“Leave him there. Set the fucking thing on fire once she’s off,” he instructs his men. “Death at sea is a good way to go.”
“No!” Drago screams. “Renata!”
My name slices through the air, and I find myself turning to my brother despite myself.
Is it love I feel for him?
No, not love.
Just pity. Sorrow. Hurt.
He’s been my world for a long time. And now, as a twenty-five-year old woman, I truly understand how small and toxic that world was.
Maybe it’s a good thing for it to burn and sink to the bottom of the ocean.