Page 62 of Before Broken Vows

I look up from my phone to the man tied to the chair. The blood has slowed, leaving dark streaks down his chin, over his throat.

"It's you. You knew our father," I say, my tone heavy with the realization.

Dimitri looks at the picture and then at our captive. "Motherfucker, that's him," he says.

Nicolas stops laughing, his expression shifting into something colder, more focused. "Very good, Theo. You're getting warmer."

"This is you," I hold up my phone, showing him the picture. "With my father shortly before he was killed."

Nicolas looks at it. "Ah, yes. He was quite cheerful that day. Had no idea what was coming."

Rage bubbles up inside me, white-hot and consuming. I grab him by the throat again, harder this time, not being careful if I cut off his airways. "You killed him."

"Did I?" he wheezes, still somehow managing to look amused despite my fingers crushing his windpipe. "Or did I just give the order?"

"Who are you working for?" Dimitri demands, moving to stand beside me.

Nicolas looks at him. "The better question is: who was your father working for?"

The question throws me. "What?"

"Did you think your father built his empire alone?" Nicolas laughs. "There are always bigger fish, Theo. Always someone higher up the food chain that deserves their fair share."

I release him, stepping back as my mind races. "You're lying."

"Am I? Ask yourself why a man as careful as your father would bring someone like me into his private world. Ask yourself why a man as powerful as him would end up with a bullet in his head."

"You're saying he was betrayed," Dimitri says.

Nicolas shrugs. "Among other things."

I stare at him—at the scars that transformed whatever face he had before. At the eyes that saw my father's final moments.

"Sir, I think you should see this."

"What did you find?" I ask.

"It was taped to the backside of a painting in the office," Dio says, handing me what appears to be a black leather-bound book. It's thin, about the size of a standard notebook. "Hidden pretty well," he says, and then looks at Nicolas. "We almost missed it."

I follow his gaze, and for the first time since we captured him, Nicolas's composure slips. It's subtle, but I saw it. Whatever this book is, it matters.

"You recognize this?" I ask, holding it up.

He looks away. "Never seen it before."

Dimitri reads Nicolas's face like I do. "Liar," he snarls and drives his fist into Nicolas's jaw. Nicolas's head snaps sideways, but he just spits blood onto the floor and smiles.

"Come on, Dimitri. Such a soft hit for the self-proclaimed enforcer of the family."

I open the book. Inside are pages of meticulous handwriting—names, dates, amounts.

It's a ledger.

I flip through it carefully, scanning the entries. Some names I recognize immediately. Members of the Athenian Warriors.

But there are others. Dozens more. Names I've never heard, arranged in some kind of hierarchy, with amounts beside them. Some have check marks. Others have X's.

"What is this?" I ask, not looking up from the pages.