I'd have been better off bleeding on the sand of ο λάκκος than living the life he'd left me to.
But Calix never came back for me.
Peter slid his gaze down my body, lingering on the swell of my breasts in the dress Lydia had laid out for me that morning. I ignored him, turning the corner and descending the stairs as my hand ran over the railing.
My breath caught with panic, and I snapped my hand off the bannister as quickly as I'd set it there. My father didn't wait at the bottom of the stairs, and there was no cold smirk on his face to haunt me. But knowing he was at ο λάκκος haunted me. Nothing would change the fact that my future husband wielded a weapon in much the same way, bleeding men and fighting for the right to wed me like I was some prize and not just a broken doll.
Like I would be anything more than another expendable toy to sit on the shelf.
I turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, making my way for my father's office at the back of the house. The door was open, the first sign that I'd taken too long before coming down.
It wouldn't please him, but I had to hope he'd had time to wash the blood from his hands and face before I would have to look at him. But I found as I stepped into the room there wasn't a speck of shadowed grey on his suit or his skin, because he'd had no need to fight.
He owned the prize the others wanted.
I stepped in front of his desk, hanging my head and dropping my eyes to my feet while I waited for him to speak. He sucked back another sip of his scotch before he stood, stepping around the desk to stand beside me. Leaning against the desk and crossing his ankles, he waited for me to flinch as he reached out a hand toward my face.
But there was no fear left in my body, no attempt to protect myself against the inevitable.
"Good girl," my father chuckled, touching my chin and turning my face until I looked over at him. "They fought hard for you."
I said nothing, allowing Origen to work through whatever grand speech he had planned for me. He loved nothing in this world except to hear himself talk.
He nodded, pursing his lips and moving away when he didn't get the affected reaction he wanted from me. "You're to marry Damianos Hasapis," he said finally, dropping into the seat behind his desk. "You should be pleased with that arrangement, I think."
I blinked once, the only sign that I'd even heard his words. I didn't know what I'd ever done to give him the impression that I had opinions of the men who might be my husband.
It mattered little to me since they were all the same. A symptom of the archaic traditions that ran rampant in the families and needed to be dismantled from the inside out before Malva could suffer the same fate. "He would like to spend some time with you before the wedding. He wants you to be comfortable with him and to understand that he intends to treat you well." My father scoffed his disapproval, rolling his eyes as if it was a ridiculous notion. "God help me, but I cannot seem to escape insufferable fools who would treat you like a precious gem. Tell me, what exactly have you done to earn such treatment?" he asked. "Besides becoming mute as well as half fucking blind."
"You've made it very clear that I serve one purpose, and it is not to be heard. I'm uncertain why you want me to speak if you don't wish to hear me, Father," I said, keeping my voice as neutral as the empty expression on my face.
"Even when you say everything right, you somehow manage to make me want to smack the smartass right out of you," he grunted, huffing a laugh as he waved his hand to dismiss me. "At least I won't have to deal with you for much longer."
I took the dismissal for what it was, turning on my heel, anxious to make my way to the relative sanctuary of my bedroom without another word. There was no lock on my door, nothing to keep me safe from him if he decided he wanted to invade my space. But Origen didn't seek me out. If he needed me, he'd summon me like a dog.
"Thalia?" he called. I paused, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder as rage gleamed in his eyes. "Try not to do anything stupid. I would hate for you to end up like your mother." I swallowed against the reminder, nodding my head briefly and shoving down the pain.
I lived my life by a very simple set of rules.
The first was to never let them see you bleed.
9
Calix
I marched through the house, my feet carrying me to the open-space living room. Rafael sat at the kitchen island, typing away at something on his laptop with that grim look on his face. He knew what was coming.
He'd always known since the moment my father had left my broken body on Miguel Ibarra's doorstep.
I'd fought like hell to stay with Thalia, to protect her from the fate I knew would come in my absence. She'd be punished for the fact that I dared to defy Origen Karras, and she'd suffer for getting close to me.
"Who?" he asked, not bothering to look up from his laptop.
My ally in Philadelphia had called me as soon as the victor was declared, but it had been a long, painful wait before I knew the name of the man I would slaughter. The man who tried to take what was mine.
"Damianos Hasapis," I growled. The son of the man who had sentenced me to banishment alongside my father.
The son of the man who had taken everything from me.
Rafael nodded, finally glancing up. "That's good. His father needed to die regardless of the son's involvement in this. Perhaps the other families will be cooperative.”
"Each family put forward a champion," I growled. "Would you feel so sanguine if you discovered a group of men fought for the right to fuck Isa?" I asked, referring to the girl who had captivated him.
He watched her, much like I'd taken to watching Thalia after arriving back in the States a few months prior. The only difference was that he had the ability to manipulate and control her life.
I could not.
He glared at me with a snarl twisting his mouth, his eyes filled with loathing that promised to strangle me in my sleep. I still needed to get used to that coming from the man who cared about no one.
"We'll take the city immediately," I growled.
"The wedding is not for two months. We need time to recoup our losses before we launch a full attack on Philadelphia. The wise move is to wait and to plan. The grander the statement we make with our first assault, the more we can minimize the consequences later on. I understand your anger, Calix, but Damianos will not touch her until their wedding night," Rafe said, standing from the stool at the island and turning to face me fully. "You have waited twelve years for this moment. Do not fuck it up by acting impulsively now."
"Fine," I growled, turning and making my way for the bedroom I'd called home since we came to Chicago to help Matteo Bellandi with his war. I drew in a deep breath, trying to quell my rising dread. The Thalia I knew would not go quietly into a marriage she didn't want. The Thalia I knew fought and maneuvered, even as a young girl. She'd been far too smart for her own good, with a quiet rebelliousness hidden from all those who wanted to contain her.
As a child, she'd been obsessed with mythology and folklore. She'd been drawn to the beautiful creatures who hid monsters within, waiting for the right moment to devour their prey. From the ashes of those interests, she'd grown into a woman who belonged in the stories she loved so much. A beauty who smiled, giving the illusion of the perfect doll they expected her to be. But when the doors closed and the prying eyes disappeared, she morphed into the brutal woman who would cut down her enemies at the first opportunity.