Page 12 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Lately, that feeling of being watched has intensified, as if he’s getting closer and closer, tempting himself to be bolder. I don’t blame him. The emotional toll of being without Evander has transformed into a pervasive sense of helplessness and isolation.
Even though I’m surrounded by friends and have enough support, there’s no escape from the feeling of being trapped without him.
But the wounds are still fresh, too painful.
Evander showed me what it was like to be loved and cared for, only to rip my heart out with his plan to use me and marry me for revenge. He even killed my ex-boyfriend and childhood friend, Niko. I was simply a pawn in Evander’s scheme to get back at my father, and I can’t help but doubt the feelings he claimed he has for me.
I’ve played the scenes over and over in my mind, the lies and deceit on loop. It’s like a messed-up highlight reel of someone else's life, but I can't escape the fact that it’s mine. The person who messed it all up is etched in my mind—his face, his words,everything.
I feel this mix of anger and hurt, churning like a storm inside me.Forgiveness? Yeah, that feels light-years away.
As I walk through the park, taking the same path I took all that time ago, I get lost in a sea of hope, my eyes darting around the lined trees and empty trails, waiting forsomeoneto materialize.
Wishing to hear his familiar footsteps heading his arrival. Desiring the comfort of his presence to drape over me like a warm blanket.
My thoughts dance between excitement and a tinge of nervousness, but he doesn’t show, leaving a hollow sense of disappointment in my chest.
I continue down the trail and out to the main road. The cold wraps around me like a cool embrace, my breath forming visible clouds in the air with each exhale.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out to check the notification.
Aria: Call me. I found something.
My heart begins to race; an unsettling knot tightens its grip on my stomach. The cold air suddenly feels thicker. My palms are slightly damp in my gloves, and I can't help but notice a subtle trembling in my hands.
Aria and Gianis have been a big help with going through memories of our childhood, but there’s still a huge question mark over my time at the Sisterhood. I’ve tried snooping around for information, but I haven’t been able to recall anything from those five years. When I’d asked my father in the past, he’d told me I had been in Greece with my grandparents. But even then, I remembered nothing.
I’ve spent many nights sitting in my bed, in front of my laptop, writing down vague memories of the past or dreams I’ve had, attempting to piece everything together. My therapist says it’ll take time to process, especially if I don’t have all the answers, but I’ve been doing research. I haven’t discovered much as I don’t have access to the dark web.
My mother, Iris Kouvalakis, born Karras, was a sister at the Sisterhood. And even though I can’t find detailed information about her time there, I’ve been gluing the pieces of the mystery through old articles, dating back over fifteen years, about young girls being abducted off the streets in Greece. The girls werenever mentioned by name, as they were all minors, but I’ve kept all the reports saved in case I need to refer to them for information.
I had asked Aria to do some digging in her father’s office, hoping that she’d find anything relevant since Philip Kastellanos is my father’s business partner.
I dial her number. My best friend picks up after two rings, but I hear shuffling noises on the other end before she answers in a whisper.
“Hi, Ang. I don’t have much time. I’m in mybaba’s office, and I found something I think could be useful to you.”
“Oh my god. Get out of there before you get caught,” I whisper-shout into the phone, even though I’m not there with her.
“I will, but I can’t take these files with me. He’ll know someone was in here. I’ll take photos of everything, but have you ever heard of someone named Atlas?”
I think back to the people I met while being around my father, and the name doesn’t ring a bell. “No. Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but apparently he was raised at the Sisterhood during the time you were there.”
“It’s an all-girls institution. I doubt they had a boy enrolled there.”
“Well, there’s a full file on him, but some of the information has been blacked out—his birth parents, last name, and location of birth. The only personal detail I have is that, if he’s still alive, he’ll be twenty-eight years old now.”
Her voice goes silent for a beat, and my thoughts race. Is she caught?
“Aria, what’s wrong?”
“Oh. Sorry, I just saw his picture and he’s…strikingly familiar,” she murmurs, unease in her tone.
“Have you seen him before?”
“I haven’t, but he looks like someone I know—he has the craziest eyes.”
