Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

CYRUS

I can’t remember another night where I slept as well as I did last night with Harper. At some point, one of us kicked off the blanket, probably because we didn’t budge an inch from the position we fell asleep in, me wrapped around her. Her arms have goosebumps, though, so I shift to pull the blanket up.

I freeze when I notice the skin on the side of her torso. She is covered in perfectly round, red scars that I would know anywhere. I glance up to make sure she’s still sleeping and push her shirt up a bit more to get a better look. She has at least a dozen on her left side, I can’t see the right since she’s laying on it.

I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised I don’t break a tooth. As delicately as I can, I extract myself from her bed, so I don’t wake her. My body yearns for violence. There’s only one thing for me to do right now.

Fight.

Then I’m going to figure out who did that to her. Although I have a pretty good idea. Her fucking shit stain of a father. She’s got a good relationship with her mom; I can’t see her having any part in that.

Before I know it, I’m out of the house and walking up the stairs to the gym above the garage. The smart thing to do would be to wrap my hands before I take my aggression to the bag, but I just don’t have time for that. The rage I’m feeling has no escape valve aside from my fists.

With every punch that I land, I’m plotting ways to get to her dad. He’s in the federal penitentiary in Georgia, but I’m guessing he’s in the minimum-security wing as a nonviolent offender. What a fucking joke that is.

I could commit a felony, but it would take too long to get put in prison. There’d be no way to ensure I get placed near him. And anything I would do would be a violent offense. It’s too risky.

Blood smears across the bag as I continue to land punches. Declan’s going to be pissed, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ll replace this one.

There’s really only one other option, and I fucking hate it. I know my uncle can find someone on the inside to do some damage. But that means I’ll be even more indebted to him. It’s worth it, though, if the good reverend can get some jailhouse justice.

“What the fuck, dude?” Declan grabs the bag and pulls it to the side. His eyes widen when he gets a look at me. “Christ. Why aren’t you wrapped?”

“Didn’t have time.” My chest heaves with each breath.

“What happened?” He leads me over to one of the benches and pushes me down before walking over to the first aid kit.

“Have you ever seen Harper’s bare stomach and sides?” I know she doesn’t want anyone to see the scars, but I can’t keep this in. It’ll fucking kill me. Plus, Declan and Emerson would be pissed if I didn’t tell them. They won’t say anything until she does.

He looks off into space while he thinks about it. “I don’t think so.”

“Trust me, you’d fucking remember if you had.” I drop my head back against the wall while he cleans my knuckles with alcohol wipes. “She’s covered in cigarette burns.”

His eyes snap to mine, filled with the same anger I feel. “How many?”

“Dozens. I only saw her left side, but I assume the other side has just as many.”

Declan doesn’t stop cleaning my cuts, but his movements become harsher. Not that I mind. If I had my way, I’d still be attacking the bag. At least I was able to formulate my plan before he found me.

“It makes sense why she’s always so covered up. I thought it was a modesty thing,” he says.

“It could be both. She doesn’t like to show much skin in general.”

“I wonder if there’s anything else on her,” he says as he puts away the kit.

“Not that I saw.”

“What did you see exactly? And how?”

“I slept in her room last night.” I clear my throat. I’m not afraid of Declan, but I don’t know how he’s going to react to this.

“Is that all you did?” He spears me with his hard gaze.

“No.”

“Did you have sex with her? ”

“No.”

He visibly relaxes at that answer and leaves without saying a word. I know he has feelings for her, he’s told me himself. But I have feelings for her, too. I think Emerson is beginning to, as well. There’s an unspoken agreement between us that we’ll just follow her lead. She’s in charge of what she wants. That doesn’t change the fact that it’ll take work to find our comfort zone. This isn’t just a one-night stand that we all have in common.

I grab a bottle of disinfectant and start removing my blood and sweat from the bag and the mats. It takes a while since it’s started to dry while Declan was cleaning my knuckles. But it’s not like I don’t have plenty of experience cleaning up dried blood. I manage to get everything up and head back over to the house.

Everyone's gone to classes, so I don’t have to worry about running into Harper and trying to play it cool. I also won’t have to worry about lying to the guys about where I’m going today. They would try to stop me if they knew I planned to go to my uncle for help.

By the time I finish showering, I know what my approach will be. He can’t know that I’m doing it for Harper because I care about her. I’ll have to spin it somehow into being about her father. The threatening notes could be a good excuse.

At first I was worried that they were coming from him, some sort of psychological warfare against me to keep me under heel. That fear was assuaged when Declan admitted that there had been more letters to both her and her mother. Georgios is scum, but he’d have no logical reason to be involved with Scott Flynn. Their criminal rings exist in separate realms.

I consider grabbing my gun but decide against it. Any interaction with my uncle is dangerous, but carrying a weapon is just asking for trouble. I need him for this which means going unarmed and falling on my own sword. So I grab my helmet and take off on my motorcycle, so I can make it back before they realize I’m gone.

When my uncle is in America, he runs his operation out of shipping warehouses. The scent of saltwater and dead fish from a seafood market down the beach hang stagnant in the air as I approach the gatehouse. Security at the first gate lets me pass without stopping. I have free rein of this place right up to the building Georgios keeps his office in.

I park right next to his blacked-out Escalade. By the time I turn off my Ducati, Nicholas is walking out to greet me. His face has a long scar across it from the inner corner of his right eye to below his ear. Souvenir of the only fight he almost lost. If I hadn’t grown up with him always around, I’d be scared of the motherfucker on looks alone.

“Cyrus.” He nods in greeting. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

“I need to speak to my uncle.”

“About?”

“It’s between him and I.”

He stares me down, displeased with that answer. I stare right back, fully knowing this is part of the dance. He finally relents when he sees I’m not budging. “I’ll take you to Andreas to see if Georgios has time for you today.”

They’ll make time for me, or I’ll make trouble for them.

I follow Nic through the warehouse full of shipping containers and pallets covered with tarps. Who the fuck knows what’s hidden away in here. Arms, drugs, contraband luxury goods. My uncle has his fingers in anything and everything nefarious.

I sit in a metal chair outside Andreas’s office while Nic disappears inside. After the first fifteen minutes tick by slowly, I scoff. I know what game this is, so I stretch my legs out and tip my head back against the corrugated metal behind me. If they’re going to make me wait, I’m going to act as unbothered as possible.

I feign sleep, knowing it’ll piss them off. Because my eyes are closed, I can only hear the ticking of the clock overhead. I let the metronome-like sound put me into a trance while I wait. Using the time to fully focus on my plan.

After what feels like hours, Andreas comes out. He slaps me across the cheek, and I pretend to jolt awake. I knew it was coming but that didn’t stop the ache from forming where his ring cut my skin. He tells me to wake up in Greek, peppered with insults.

I follow him back to my uncle. Georgios holds out his hand, and I kiss his ring, bowing my head like I was taught. Every time I do this, I die a little inside. Showing deference and respect to the man who made me into the monster I am makes me fucking sick.

“What brings you here today, nephew?” He sits down, his shirt puckering around his girth .

“I need a favor.” There’s no need to draw this interaction out.

His eyes narrow in interest. “Go on.”

“I need someone to injure, or kill, Scott Flynn.”

His white eyebrows shoot straight up in surprise. “He’s in federal prison. That’s a big ask of us.”

“I know. If he weren’t I’d do it myself.”

Georgios and Andreas share a look. I’ve always loathed how easily they communicate without speaking. Some sort of criminal telepathy borne from years of working in dirtiest parts of the underground. Andreas gives the slightest nod and leaves the room to go do fuck knows what.

“Why do you want this?”

“He’s been threatening us.”

My uncle’s face hardens at that. He’s a twisted fucker, but nothing pisses him off like someone fucking with his family. In his mind, only he’s allowed to hurt me.

“Explain.”

I fill him in on what has been happening, making sure to really highlight the fact that someone is watching us. It’s a stretch to say that, because they’re really more focused on Harper, but I’m not above exaggerating to get what I want .

It’s not a lie that we’re being watched though, considering we all live together. Any close eyes on her could potentially be a problem for Georgios when I do so much of his dirty work. He leans back in his chair and lets his gaze cut through me as he thinks about what to do.

“I’ll do it, but it’ll cost you.”

My heart sinks even though I knew this was coming. “Okay.”

Andreas comes back carrying a file which he places in my hand. I open it up and start skimming. I have access to everything I could need on the target.

“I need the target eliminated. He’s been circling the operation for years, drawing closer the past few months.” My uncle leans back in his chair as I read more. “If you get rid of him, I’ll cut you loose. No more favors, no more jobs. You’ll be free of the family.”

“I’ll have to leave the country.”

“Yes. I’ll provide everything you need.”

Leaving Harper and the guys isn’t something I want to do right now. Especially with how tense it is not knowing who’s behind the letters. Because at the end of the day, we don’t know if her dad is the one pulling strings or not. This is purely vengeance for the abuse she suffered at his hands .

“Can it wait until fall break?” I ask, a plan forming in my mind.

If I can take everyone with me, I’ll have a built-in alibi, and we can get away for a while. A week on a yacht in the Mediterranean with the people I care the most about would be amazing. It’ll be easy to convince Declan and Emerson to skip family Thanksgiving. It might be a little harder to get Harper on board but maybe the promise of relaxation and complete privacy will do the trick.

Georgios and Andreas share another look. “Yes. As long as it's done by the end of the year.”

I stand and tuck the file into my pants, covering it with my shirt. “Put any updates in the box.”

Georgios and I share a safe deposit box at a bank he’s got a vested interest in. Everything we keep in it is totally innocent, normal stuff. Passports, legal records, family heirlooms that look important, but we don’t give a fuck about. It’s a sham so he can hide USB drives with information for me to pick up later.

On the way back to the house, I make sure to obey traffic laws and drive as safely as possible. The last thing I need is to get pulled over with a file on me with information about a high-level intelligence officer overseas. I’ll do a deep dive into all the information once I’m home and can lock myself away for a few hours. This is definitely a job that will need perfect planning and execution.