And because I made a mistake, now we’re both going to die.
“You said he’d kill us,” she whispers urgently. “If he catches us—”
I feel a thick lump in my throat. “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure they pin this on me and leave you out of it.”
Her face goes white. “Peter—”
I brush past her and walk on. I can’t have this discussion with her, not right now. Not when I’m on the edge of doing something stupid. But I need to play this the right way if I want her to walk away alive. My life is over—it’s forfeit already. But Adrienne doesn’t get to take a bullet.
That’s my only goal: convince my father to spare the girl.
There’s no other option. If I try to escape now, Father’s guys will tighten the noose and Adrienne might get hurt in the crossfire. I can’t risk it. If I’m lucky and careful, I’ll be able to make sure they don’t blame her for anything.
After all, Greeks are a bunch of misogynists—they won’t be able to believe that Adrienne was playing a serious role in our scheme.
The kitchen’s well lit. Rastus Filo sits at the table drinking wine. My father stands beside him, looking hard. Two Filo family thugs hang around and stroke their guns lovingly. It’s obscene and absurd. I spot Simion and Demetrios sitting on the back porch through the sliding glass door, both of them staring out at the yard like we’re invisible, both of them chain smoking cigarettes. More guards stand around smoking with them. I can’t imagine what Rastus and my father have over Demetrios to make him agree to something like this, but it must be something bad. Nobody wants their house to be used as a gallows.
It’s a shame Demetrios will have to spend the next month cleaning my blood from his floor.
“Sit down, Peter.” Father’s face is flat and emotionless. I know that stare: it’s the look he’d give me after a particularly bad lesson, when I was young and still dumb enough to defy him or to complain about his methods, the look he’d give me before a nasty and violent punishment.
The face of a man resigned to doing something terrible.
I sink into a chair at the far end of the table. Adrienne sits to my left, fidgeting in her seat, looking from me to Father to Rastus, her fingers brushing against her thigh.
I wish I could do something for her right now. I want to say something to calm her down, to make her understand that this is about me and not about her.
That she’ll survive.
But I hold my tongue. I don’t want to draw attention to her and give my father something else to use against me.
One of Rastus’s men places a glass of ouzo in front of each of us. A traditional last drink before the end. Rastus grins at me, enjoying his joke, and winks. I don’t touch the stuff.
“I had an interesting conversation with your father a couple days ago,” Rastus says. His smile makes my blood boil. He lights a thin cigar and puffs it like he knows he’s won. The smoke smells earthy and thick. I want to strangle him. “I told him about how you’ve been playing middleman for Balaska and Le Milieu. I told him how you’ve been trying to establish shipping lanes for drugs between here and Marseille. This all came as a shock to your poor father.”
Yiannis Calimeris, my old man, my father, the man that raised me and turned me into what I am today, says nothing. He only stares.
Like I’m not his boy anymore.
The silence stretches until I can’t take it anymore. “I told you I had work,” I say, meeting his gaze.
“I thought you took on something minor for one of the families.” His mask cracks slightly and the pain that slips through threatens to kill me. I didn’t think my father would care, but knowing this is hard for him makes it so much worse. “Peter, why would you do this? What were you thinking?”
I’m quiet for a moment. Should I try to deny it? Try to downplay it? But in the end, I’m not going to pretend I’m something I’m not. I spin the ouzo glass between my fingers for a moment, considering what I’m about to say.
I look at Adrienne and I hope she can understand.
“I wanted more,” I say quietly and lean forward against the table. “I want tobe more.More than a son and a captain. More than a bodyguard and a babysitter. More than just another member of a family that doesn’t care about me beyond the money I can earn. Adrienne here has been tagging along like a good little puppy dog, but I wanted more.”
“And you thought the Balaskas could provide it?” Father shakes his head. “Peter, you know our policy. Stay out of politics. Don’t take sides.”
Rastus gestures at me. “That’s what I told the boy!”
“And yet here you are, taking sides.” Father rubs his face. “What am I supposed to do with you now?”
“I don’t know. But whatever you do, Adrienne’s not a part of it.”
Father glances at her. “The girl will be fine, if that’s something you’re worried about. God, imagine letting her get killed and pissing off Luca and Kacia right now, at the worst possible moment. With everything so damn fraught.” Father clenches his jaw. “And this is when you choose to disobey me? You foolish fucking boy.”