Page 90 of Reaper’s Wrath

This small piece of the economic pie is ours, including our very own island. Aptly named Pouthená, Greek for “nowhere,” the island appears uninhabited on maps and in public records. The Greek bought the island two years ago and made it into his secret oasis. That’s where he spends his days while Kairos and I captain our yacht and Stavros captains the other.

When he made the move, it was the first time Kai and I were ever given control of a boat big enough to go where we wanted without the Greek or Stavros on board. The Greek knew what he was doing, though. He has kept Tessa with him ever since.

We never even discussed disappearing. How could we? She was seventeen—the same age I was when I was taken. She was a child, and we both knew the danger she’d be in if we weren’t there to protect her.

Leaving wasn’t an option.

And after so many years had passed, what would be the point in going back to New York now? Everyone would have moved on. That’s what I used to reassure myself every time the nagging urge resurfaces.

Instead, we’ve patrolled our island territories, returning to Pouthená as often as we can. The oceans are the last great frontier—a lawless expanse of wealth waiting to be exploited. Not the resources, per se, but the wealthy men who take to the seas to hide their riches and uncivilized proclivities. It’s a winning strategy, so long as someone like me doesn’t get wind. I’ve spent years learning from the Greek and Stavros. Sometimes I adopt their tactics. Sometimes I take mental notes of flaws in their approaches. I’ve learned a great deal, and the Reaper has made a name for himself across the islands.

We dropped anchor offshore yesterday. I was exhausted and wanted to sleep in my own bed on the boat. Kairos went ashore to see Tessa, and I’m headed over now to join them.

I take the tender boat to shore and walk to the house perched up on high ground in the center of the island. The house is a large white Bermudian-style home, though I always thought it lent itself to a Greek style, as well. Maybe that was intentional. There’s also a matching command center away from the main house where the men are stationed. He keeps a crew of five to six men on the island while the rest of us patrol our territory and meet with business associates.

When I reach the house, I hear shouting through the open windows. This isn’t a normal argument. Someone is lashing out in rage.

I unsheathe my knife and begin to circle the outside of the house in the direction of the voices. White curtains billow in the ocean breeze, a stark contrast to the violent sounds coming from within.

I cautiously peer inside and see Kairos with his arm wrapped around the Greek’s throat in a chokehold. Both men are bleeding, though the Greek, now up in years, has taken the brunt of this scuffle. Furniture is overturned. Glass is broken. I have no idea what’s happened, but I can say for certain there will be no coming back from this.

I have never seen Kairos so unhinged.

His dark curls are sweat-slicked and flattened to his forehead. His teeth are clenched together with the strain of his efforts. The veins in his forearms bulge as the arms remain locked in position, cutting off all air to the Greek, who has already turned a grotesque shade of red. His fingers scrape at Kairos’s skin, leaving bloody scratch marks behind.

“Kai, what the fuck is going on?” I don’t know why I yell. I can understand wanting to kill the Greek. I’ve considered it many times in recent years. If I’m honest, it’s only been a matter of time, but the fact that my friend has launched this unplanned attack has me too stunned to think clearly.

My idiocy gives the Greek an opportunity to gouge his fingers into Kai’s eyes. Kairos releases the old man while I run for the closest door. By the time I get to the room, the Greek and Kairos are squaring off with a huge wooden desk between them.

“He lied, Elio,” Kairos snarls, his body coiled and ready to spring at the Greek if needed. “Stavros said something last night that didn’t sit right. He’d been drinking, so I wasn’t sure if I should believe him. While they were on the mainland this morning, I went digging in his office. He kept newspaper clippings like trophies—one with a message from the remaining family begging for my return. This asshole didn’t save me. He was the reason I was orphaned. He fucking killed my parents.”

I’m stunned speechless.

I guess it’s a good sign that my soul hasn’t been irreparably corrupted because despite all I’ve learned about the Greek, his depravity still continues to surprise me. As I struggle to comprehend the magnitude of what I’ve just learned, Kairos continues.

“He was there when it happened—told me my grandmother had sent him and wanted me to go with him where I’d be safe. He knew all of them by name, so I believed him. He wasn’t rescuing me. He took me as a part of his revenge. Isn’t that right, you evil cunt?”

The Greek flashes his bloodstained teeth, eyes locked on Kairos—neither willing to look away for the briefest second lest the other make their move. “As if you’ve suffered at my hands. Look at your strength and skills—that’s because of me. You are who you are because of what we’ve taught you.”

“They were my family,” Kai roars.

The Greek bellows back, “I gave you a new family.” He points in my direction, and I feel as though a spotlight has been cast on me. Is the answer that simple? Is that why he took me? And what about Tessa? We always suspected the only reason she was there was to keep us in line. But was she really orphaned as well, or was that his doing?

This evil man has been toying with people’s lives as though he were a god, but he’s not. He’s mortal like the rest of us. It’s time for his reign of cruelty to end.

The second I dart into motion, Kai does the same. We flank the Greek on either side. He’s no match for us both. I pin his arms behind his back, holding his body flush with mine, and as soon as he’s immobilized, Kai reaches around to my belt where he unsheathes a knife.

“Go to hell, you sick son of a bitch.” He ends his statement with a swift thrust of the knife up into the Greek’s side where the blade can do the most damage. How the Greek and Stavros taught us to kill.

I allow his body to fall heavily to the floor when his legs give out.

Kai and I stare at the lifeless carcass of the man who put us through hell. The man who sauntered through life doing whatever he pleased is suddenly an impotent pile of flesh and bone. Reconciling the two realities is disorienting.

I blow out a lungful of embattled emotions. “He’s dead.” After so many years—so much helplessness and turmoil—he’s finally gone.

“We should have done it a long time ago,” Kairos murmurs.

“Let’s not go there, man. We both know we did what we could to survive. And that’s what we’re going to keep doing. The Greek wasn’t a one-man operation. This isn’t over. We need to figure out where we go from here.”