Page 113 of Beyond Enemy Vows
“She grieved in silence. Powerless. But when her brother returned, she didn’t hesitate. She pointed him straight at the killers. And he did what she wasn't allowed to.”
I walk over and sit at the desk opposite Stavros. His face has turned an interesting shade of red.
“It would be unnatural, they said, for a daughter to shed blood in her father's name." I lean forward, holding his gaze. "But I, we,know the truth. Sometimes the gods don't choose warriors. They choose daughters."
Stavros shifts again, his breath coming faster. A flicker of panic dances in his eyes.
He suddenly starts to convulse. His body shifts and he vomits all over his expensive shoes. He slowly turns back to face me and I don't flinch.
"And while Electra didn't take vengeance into her own hands, I did." I stand slowly, smoothing my red dress. “I didn’t need my brothers. I needed a glass of champagne and your arrogance.”
I walk around to Stavros, whose contorted face looks up at me. Blood vessels have burst in his eyes, turning the whites red. His lips are blue at the edges.
"You may have killed my father, but know it was his daughter who ended your pathetic life. And now your son and I will build a new empire that doesn't include you."
Stavros starts shaking harder now, foam bubbling from his mouth like a rabid animal. His body contorts, muscles seizing. He falls out of his chair and collapses to the floor.
Blood begins to trickle from his nose and ears, pooling on the rug beneath him.
His eyes, still open, stare up at me with a mixture of shock and rage as the realization dawns on him. I don't look away. I want the last thing he sees to be my face, standing over him as life drains from his body.
After a few minutes, Stavros's eyes are still open, staring at nothing. His chest has stopped moving.
It's done.
I killed him.
I expected to feel different. Sick, maybe. Horrified. But all I feel is a deep satisfaction.
Now all I can think is how to get out of here and find Niko before it's too late.
38
NIKO
My lungs burn. Each breath feels like swallowing glass, and I push myself up onto my hands and knees.
Blood drips from my busted lip onto the floor. Pure rage is keeping me conscious.
This isn't how it ends. No fucking way.
One guard stands directly in front of me, a gun raised. The other is at my side, ready to drag my body out once it's done.
My vision blurs, then sharpens. The room spins from the beating they gave me. Sore ribs, jaw throbbing, but nothing matters except getting to Calli. If Stavros touches her.
The one with the gun cocks his head.
"Nothing personal, Mr. Petrou," he says. "Just following orders."
I wipe the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and catch something reflecting the light. Shards of glass from the drink my father hurled at the wall.
I cough, let my body sag like I'm losing strength, and close my fingers around the broken pieces. I grip them too tightly, feeling them slice into my palm. The pain is sharp, immediate, but I hide it, staying down, breathing hard. Blood pools in my palm.
I look up at him, at the barrel pointing at me, and shake my head. I force a harsh laugh. "It's always personal."
The guard's mouth twitches. "Well, better you than?—"
I explode upward to my knees with everything I have left, my arm whipping forward like a pitcher throwing a fastball. The glass shards fly from my bloodied fist directly into his face. The pieces scatter, some missing, but enough find their target.
