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“Tell...my mother....”

“You’ll tell her yourself,” I insisted, tears streaming down my face. My arms tightened around him, as if I could physically anchor him to earth.

“Protect...Evangelia.”

“We will.” There was an unmistakable tremble in Markos’s steady voice.

That broke me.

He couldn’t fix this.

Iosif’s breath hitched once, twice, and then with terrible finality, his chest fell still. The light in his eyes faded, leaving behind only empty windows. His hand, which had been weakly grasping mine, went slack.

“No,” I whispered, then louder, “No, no, no!”

I shook him gently at first, then more frantically. “Iosif! Iosif, please!”

Markos’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, heavy with the weight of grief and inevitability. “Serena,” he said softly. “He’s gone.”

Something cracked inside me then, a dam bursting with such force that I couldn’t contain the flood. I turned to Markos, my body convulsing with sobs, and collapsed against his chest. His arms enveloped me immediately, strong and steady, while I shuddered violently.

“That was Atlas,” Markos said in a voice that sounded far away. “They killed Parker. Anatole has most of the hits canceled.”

“Then why...?” I croaked between sobs.

Markos shrugged. “The assassins had the contract. They didn’t have the recall order.”

I rocked back and forth as the sobs tore through me with such force that I couldn’t breathe.

“It’s over, Serena.”

But...but....

“I know.” Markos stroked my back. “I know, sweet prinkípissa.”

Time melted away in that blood-soaked moment. My hands, stained crimson, trembled against Markos’s chest. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything except the thundering of my own heart.

“We need to go,” Markos whispered against my hair.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t leave Iosif sprawled on the cold tile floor like discarded garbage. The child within me—our tiny, precious secret—seemed to understand my grief, momentarily sparing me from the nausea that had plagued me for hours.

I brushed my fingers over my belly. No matter if it was a boy or girl, the baby would honor Iosif’s sacrifice with its name.

“Serena,” Markos urged, his voice firmer now. “We can’t stay.”

A distant wail cut through the night, growing louder with each passing second. Markos tensed, his body coiling like a spring.

“Police,” he muttered. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

He was right, caught in the nightmare, there was no escape until long after dawn broke over the sleepy town in the middle of Georgia.

Chapter 43 – Markos

The flames climbed high into the midnight sky. Once again, we were gathered on the Shark’s Fin. The peninsula had seen two too many bonfires these last weeks.

As I looked around the ten somber faces, I redoubled my silent vow that this would be the last.

Death was a cruel master. He would claim us all, but I would fight him every day to prevent him claiming another of our company. The same resolve was written on the haggard faces around me.