Page 89 of Reaper’s Wrath

“I burned down the whole factory, but only after I put his body through a grinder.”

I’m speechless.

D was only seventeen. I didn’t kill a man until I was twenty. He did that … for me.

“I saw you burned down the factory. I figured the police discovered the crime scene, and that was your way of grieving.”

“The cops didn’t do jack shit,” he snarls. “I tracked that asshole down. Followed him to the factory and killed him after he told me you were dead. He told me you were dead. There was blood all over the floor.” The pain in his words carves into my already tattered heart.

I hate that he suffered, but the only solace I can offer is the little I know from my perspective, so I give him that.

“From what I could tell, he had some sort of personality disorder—one fearful and submissive, the other pure evil.” My voice softens as I get lost in the memory of the way my kidnapper’s eyes changed with his personalities. “The sadistic fuck slit my throat. His counterpart must have seen the blood and thought I’d been killed.”

DiAngelo leans back with the weight of his bewilderment. “No wonder I could never find his boss.”

“You kept looking?”

His eyes return to mine. “I’ve never stopped.”

And just like that, a wound I never knew I carried healed over. I knew he’d never have given up on me, but the pain of everything that had happened tainted even the purest of bonds.

“What I don’t understand,” I tell him, allowing my vulnerability to surface, “is why Mom and Dad would abandon me—refusing the ransom not once but twice.”

My brother’s face contorts. “What are you talking about? We did everything we could to get the money to that madman.”

“And when the Greek called?” I push. “He only asked for half as much, and Dad still refused.”

“What Greek? What are you talking about?”

“The second ransom. The older man with a Greek accent. He found me outside on the night I almost died and stitched me back together. He called Dad twice. Dad wouldn’t even entertain paying the money.” A surge of the emotions I felt way back then is a fist around my throat, threatening to strangle my words.

DiAngelo shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “No, that never happened. I mean, I was being held by the police after burning down the factory, but I know Dad would never have refused. He paid my bail. He would have found a way to pay your ransom, too.”

Could the Greek have lied?

Definitely.

Do I know how my father would have responded when being forced to pay bail and a ransom? I can’t imagine how any parent could choose between their children if only one could be saved. Was that the decision he was faced with that fateful day?

I can’t say for certain, but I know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I heard him with my own ears, D. He absolutely refused to pay and implied that I was nearly grown and needed to figure it out on my own.” I can still hear the words echo in my mind, and the excruciating pain of it is too much.

I stand and lock eyes with my twin. “It’s good to see you, D, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but I’m not sure being in contact is a good idea. We’ve both moved on. Let’s let the past stay where it belongs.”

“El, come on, man.” He slides to the edge of the booth as if ready to follow me.

I stop him with an outstretched hand. “Don’t, D. Just don’t,” I insist, my words feathered with the darkness that shrouds my heart.

He must hear the pain because he doesn’t argue.

I leave the diner unsure if the meeting has left me better or worse off. What I do know is that my suspicions continue to grow regarding the Greek and Stavros. Kairos is right. We need to find Stavros and get some answers, then reunite him with his boss down in hell.

CHAPTER 47

ELIO

Eight Months Ago

Under the Greek’s command, we’ve carved out a lucrative enterprise of dealings—some legal, and some not—centered around the Bermuda and Azores Islands. We stay away from the continental mainland because those shores and related shipping channels are controlled by other, larger organizations we have no interest in taking on.