Page 156 of Dagger in the Sea

“You will.” Fuck, this was hard, fucking crazy. Harder than I expected. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

My stomach squeezed together and twisted into knots over and over again. I should be doing this for her. Stepping into fire and smoke where she had no place. Letting her go was wrong, all wrong. My lungs squeezed together. But I knew she needed to do it and she knew it too—to face that devil, the devil that had killed her lover, the devil that had stolen the best part of her, the devil that now had her brother prisoner. She wanted to do this to prove things to herself, to redeem herself.

With a final look, she released me and strode over to her white BMW coupe, the car she hadn’t driven in two years. She got in, fastened her seat belt, hands flexing over the wheel. She put the vehicle into gear and sped off, and a piece of me took off with her leaving me rooted to the spot. The churning burn in my gut told me what I already knew. I couldn’t package these sensations and file them away. There were no files, no labels, no system where Adri was concerned. The BMW veered out of sight, and I took in a tight breath.

I had no control in keeping Adri safe, protecting her. It had all been ripped from me.

45

Adriana

I’d droppedoff the cash in the bin with the pink graffiti on it and now I was supposed to wait for their call. My pounding heartbeat my only company, adrenaline my fuel. I parked in front of an abandoned kiosk, and I waited, pen and paper ready to take directions when the call came. After they counted the bloody money.

An hour went by.

Another forty-three minutes.

Another thirty-five.

My phone beeped. An unknown number. My mouth dried and I cleared my throat.“Oríste?”

“Asprópyrgos,” said a husky voice. He gave me specific instructions to an abandoned warehouse parking lot, and I scribbled madly. Relief poured through me, beating down the anxiety. One step closer to Marko.

Click.

Asprópyrgos was an industrial area west of the city, and I knew the area. I’d been there once before, with Grigori for a rave party he had deejayed. A party that had turned into a riot after a fight broke out with a group of those right-wing anarchists who had shown up.

I called Turo and he put me on speaker so Luca, who was driving their car, could hear the directions as well.

“Are you okay?” Turo asked, his voice tight.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?” he said.

“Yes. You go. Call me the minute—”

“I will. I will.”

Turo clicked off the call, and I dropped my phone in the passenger seat next to me, letting out a heavy breath, but it did no good. My fingers curled tightly over the steering wheel as my brain replayed that hard, husky voice of the kidnapper that had drilled through me.

It drilled through me again. And again.

How had they been treating Marko? Had they beaten him up? Hurt him? Taunted him, been cruel? Was he hungry, in pain, in shock? All those questions that had tortured my mother and Petros. Those impossible questions with no answers had filled their eyes with thick, dark, heavy emotion.

My brother was a quiet, gentle boy. Life had been good to him. There were no creases, no jagged or crooked lines in his life up until now. Now, it would be a screaming wretched hell because of my father. Because I’d allowed my father in.

I’d done that.

Marko didn’t deserve this. No one did, but especially not my little brother.

And especially not my mother and Petros who had already suffered the loss of an innocent child.

No more tragedy. Not again.

And not because of me.

My gaze went to the paper with the directions.

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