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I hadn’t gone far, less than a quarter of the way, not that I was a good judge of distance. With cautious steps, I doubled back. Dread pooled in the bottom of my stomach. I wasn’t scared of seeing Markos work over someone. I should have been, but I wasn’t.

No, I was scared to face him.

I didn’t want to feel that terrible wrath directed at me.

Sweat slid down my spine as I crept back toward the boat. The sand crunched beneath my feet, too loud to my own ears. I tried walking closer to the water where the sand was packed firmer, my footfalls less audible.

The boat came into view around the bend of the shore, bobbing gently in the shallow waters. I slowed my pace, listening. No screams. No sounds of violence. Just the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the distant cry of seagulls.

Maybe I was too late? Or perhaps Markos had taken him elsewhere?

I hesitated at the edge of a cluster of palms, my heart thundering in my chest. This was stupid. I should turn around, continue my shell-hunting charade, pretend I knew nothing of the family business. That was how I’d been raised. It was what my big brother said would keep me safe.

Fuck him.

I wanted this. Why did the men horde that sense of belonging to themselves all while keeping us out in the name of protection? Dammit, where was my seat at the table? Alessandro gave one to his wife—willingly!

A terrible crunch sounded louder than the waves. The scream that followed pierced the very air with the note of pain, the melody of despair. The certainty of death.

I stopped, hand resting on the rough bark of a palm tree.

Markos squatted, thick thighs parted and hands clasped as though he were in prayer. The assassin was a heap on the ground, writhing and twitching.

“Took a nap there, did ya, bud?” Markos cajoled. “I’ll be needing an answer before I let you take a good, long one.”

A gut-wrenching blubbering choked the man.

“Who sent you?” Markos insisted.

“No one!” the assassin wept. “I did it. It was all me.”

Markos sighed. “Here’s the thing, someone is coming for my family. One of us is already dead, and then I discover you, trying to off me. Forgive me for checking my bases, but due diligence is a requirement for a man of my position.”

Blood and saliva leaked from the man’s mouth, long tendrils whipping about as he vigorously shook his head. “No one, no one!”

“Let’s try something smaller, shall we?” With lightning speed, Markos shot forward, broke a bone in the man’s finger, and then retreated to a safe distance.

The assassin howled. “You took my brother out fishing, Black Tide. He’s been gone for weeks. He didn’t do anything except fall asleep on the job. Once! And for that, he died?”

My heart thumped heavily.

I crept forward, raising my weapon. Markos lifted that piercing blue gaze the moment my finger curled around the trigger.

In the echoes of the shot, the whimpering ceased.

“I saw a big snake,” I whispered, dropping the gun into the sand.

Blood pooled faster than the sand could soak it. But the next moment, a wave raced up the shore, licking the crimson stain and dispersing the evidence of my first kill.

“They say you have to make a kill to join the mob—is this true?” I spoke, the voice that came out was not my own.

The next moment, a shadow rose before me. Markos was so tall that he blocked the sun, capturing my shoulders under his palms and turning me away from the carnage.

“Serena—”

“Don’t coddle me,” I choked. “Does this make me a Made Man? In your organization?”

Markos let out a short, hard breath through his nose. “If you want it to be, then I’ll see that it counts.”