by Julia Mills
Leaning down to grab her glass, the room started to spin, her vision blurred, and before she could figure out what was happening, Cyn was falling forward. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders just before her head hit the coffee table. Kat yelled, “Cynthia…Cyn…can you hear me?”
Opening her mouth to answer, all Cyn could do was cough as her world turned black.
Chapter Nine
“You do realize she will let you beat Laurent to death, right?” Viktor asked, pointing at where Valentina sat tied to a chair, smiling around the gag in her mouth. “She heard all his screams as they echoed through your medieval dungeon and couldn’t have cared less about the poor boy. He was merely a means to an end.”
“Yes, and now he is a means for me to expel a bit of the rage,” Roman growled, wiping his chauffeur’s blood from his hands.
“Do as you will. How about I speak with your little tréfon?” He sniffed as he rolled up his sleeves. “I believe I may have an idea that will loosen her lips.”
Roman gave a single nod as he watched his Commander walk toward the woman who had been his feeder for nearly twenty years. He had no pity for her. Actually, all he felt was an overwhelming need to throttle her about the neck until she no longer drew breath as punishment for her crimes. Yes, he wanted answers, but her death was sounding more appealing with every passing second.
Going back to the next room to Laurent, Roman stood and glared at the man hanging from a hook dangling from a chain in the bowels of his mansion, completely baffled how someone who had been so loyal for so long could betray him in such an overwhelming fashion. Grabbing the traitor firmly by the chin, the General shook him back to consciousness.
“Please, sire, I know nothing. I…” Laurent slurred, stopping to gasp as blood flowed from the numerous cuts and abrasions on his face.
“I care not about what you know,” Roman growled through gritted teeth. “My sole purpose is to inflict the maximum amount of pain while keeping you alive.” He pushed Laurent’s face away with a loud crack of the man’s neck and spun on his heels. “Now, think about how much you can take while I check on the Commander’s progress with Valentina and I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder, kicking the huge wooden door shut and slamming the enormous metal locks closed for effect.
The sound of his heels on the stone floor reminded him of another time and place when he and Viktor had been forced to take their pound of flesh in the pursuit of justice. Visions of the past flooded his mind as he walked down the long cold corridor and was transported back to just ten years after his rebirth. He could feel the cold wet grass through his tunic while he laid hidden in the weeds just south of the traitor’s camp. Looking across the clearing, he saw the determination in his Commander’s eyes as he crept closer to their enemies, attempting to see how many combatants they would send across the River Styx on this night.
Eight flashes of Vitkoras’ blade in the moonlight. Eight traitors, all celebrating yet another bloodbath perpetrated for their own ill-gotten gains. The fury that rose within Romanus was barely containable. It was incomprehensible how these barbarians, once men of honor, had been reduced to working for the corrupt politikoí to overthrow the sovereign government of Greece.
Several tense moments passed as the General waited for the signal to move. He anticipated the look upon Xenophanes’ face when he saw that Romanus was indeed alive and well and coming for his head with immense excitement. It mattered not that they shared a father. The bastard had betrayed everything their patéras believed in, stood for, and had bled to protect. It would be a victory to watch the traitor’s blood wet the ground beneath his feet.
Finally, the call came. Romanus was on his feet, sprinting across the clearing with the speed given to him by the King of the Gods. Stopping at the outskirts of the camp, he sneered at their drunken celebration and the poor young girls they planned to rape later that evening. Not only would he rid the world of his half-brother and the prodótis’ followers, but also free those women from a fate worse than death.
A single whistle, heard only buy his ears, and the mighty General sprang into action. Shock covered the faces of his enemies as he and his Commander appeared from the mist, slashing the throats of the men dim-witted enough to follow Xenophanes. Moving with the speed of Zeus’ lightning, Romanus and Viktoras cut down seven men, leaving them headless in puddles of their own life’s essence.
Turning to face his half-brother, covered in the blood of Xenophanes’ compatriots, Romanus smirked, “And now, brother mine, comes the time of your death.”
Dropping his vessel of wine, Xenophanes cried, “Leave me specter, haunt me no more.”
Barking with laughter, Romanus advanced, “Oh, brother, if only I were a fántasma, easily dismissed and left to roam the ether. But alas, I am flesh and blood, just as you, and tonight it is you who shall die in the sand like a plebian.”
Jumping to his feet and stumbling backward with his hands before him to ward off the General, Xenophanes screamed, “This cannot be. I watched you die. I saw the spear in your chest.”
“Did you?” Romanus taunted. “Or did you run away like the deilós you truly are?”
The acrid stench of fear filled the air as the General continued toward Xenophanes, his blade at his side, the need for vengeance fueling his every action.
“Spare me, brother, I beg of you.” Motioning at the riches from his latest raid, the traitor offered, “See the wealth. Take it all.” Pointing to the young women chained like slaves to the same trees as the horses, Xenophanes bartered, “Take the pórnes. You and your Commander must be in dire need of company.” The bastard dared to look at Viktoras, who merely shook his head and scoffed in disgust.
Sneering, Romanus ordered, “Lift your blade.”
Shaking his head and looking for an escape, Xenophanes wept, “I will not. You will have to kill an unarmed man.” He threw his sword to the side and raised his empty hands in surrender, a sly look flashing across his face before, with an immediate confidence that directly opposed the tears still streaking his face, the prodótis challenged, “The great Romanus would never strike down an unarmed man. It would be a dishonor of the highest degree.”
Racing forward, Romanus grabbed Xenophanes by the throat and lifted his feet from the ground, smiling as the traitor tore at his hand and struggled to breathe. Looking his half-brother in the eye, the General hissed, “Romanus, General of the Grecian Army, is no more. Tonight, you die by the hand of Roman Marinos.”
His words still echoed in the air as he plunged his blade through Xenophanes’ gullet, slicing upward and watching as blood gurgled from the traitor’s lips and the light bled from his eyes. With his dying breath, Xenophanes stammered, “May you lose what you treasure most at the hands of my ancestors.”
“And may you wither on the banks of the River Styx with a burning torment befitting your crimes,” the King spat.
Dropping the corpse of his betrayer to the ground, Roman spun on his heel, nodded to his Commander who had already released the young women and sent them home on the horses of the traitors and together, the Kings left the remains of the fallen traitors for the vermin.
Standing in the corridor, Roman pulled himself from the past and focused on the task at hand. Opening the heavy wooden door, he found Viktor kneeling next to a weeping Valentina, holding a photograph and calmly asking, “This is your giagiá, is it not? The woman who raised you when your mother succumbed to her addiction?”
“Y-y-yes,” she hiccupped, tears mixed with her mascara running down her face reminding Roman of a sad clown. “B-b-but…”
Disregarding her words, the Commander continued, “And you are aware of the terms of your contract with not only Mr. Marinos, but the Order of the Kings of the Blood?”
Wailing, his former tréfon looked to him with pleading eyes and begged, “Please, o vasiliás mou, my grandmother is innocent. She knows nothing of you or your kind.”
Shrugging, Roman shook his head, “The rules are clear.
The price of your betrayal is not only your life but that of all those with whom you share blood.” He took a step forward before adding, “It matters not that you sought to hide your giagiá from us.”
Frantically shaking her head while sobbing and trying to speak, Valentina finally stammered, “I-I-I only w-w-wanted to k-k-keep her f-f-free from w-w-worry.”
Speeding across the room, Roman wrapped his hand around her neck, reveling in the flutter of her pulse against his palm as he squeezed just enough to make her struggle. Leaning down until they were eye-to-eye, the General let all the fury and rage of her betrayal bleed into his expression as he jeered, “Come now, Valentina, were all friends here. Let us at least be honest with one another. Your actions against my fýlakas tis kardiás mou were premeditated and keeping the existence of your beloved grandmother from us was just another part of your plan. You believed to outsmart us. To kill the one most dear to me without suffering the full extent of your consequences.”
He held her tight for a second longer as she gasped for air before snatching his hand away and smiling as she crumpled where she sat. Coughing and rubbing her neck, she croaked, “N-n-no, I swear. Y-y-you must believe me.”
“I believe not a word from your wretched lips,” Roman roared.
Pacing, while contemplating all the ways he could end the treacherous bitch’s life, the King had to remind himself that they needed to be sure no other in their organization was involved. It was imperative to their very existence that no traitors to Valentina’s cause, whatever it truly was, be left alive.
Part of him, the soft underbelly that had reared its ugly head the moment he knew of Cynthia’s existence, wondered if telling Valentina they truly would never hurt an elderly blind woman who had no knowledge of them would loosen her tongue. But the master strategist who had orchestrated thousands of successful campaigns against enemies all across the world knew this was the only way to get the truth from the enemy.
He continued to traverse the far end of the stonewalled room as Viktor showed Valentina picture after picture of not only her childhood but her grandmother going about her daily tasks. It was the only leverage they had and the Commander knew ways of interrogation few had ever tried.
Question after question, denial after denial ate away at Roman’s hard fought restraint. He needed answers. He needed to be with his mate. He needed to watch Valentina and Laurent die for their crimes.
Finally, when he could stand it no more, the King opened his mouth to declare Valentina’s life at an end but never got to speak the words as Viktor’s cell phone rang.
“Katarina?” The Commander asked, concern crossing his face as he pulled the device from his ear and pressed the speaker button.
“Oh, Roman, I am so sorry. I just thought she was tired. I made her lunch and told her to take a nap.” The panic in Kat’s voice was palpable and her speech so rapid it took his enhanced hearing to decipher her words.
“What? Cynthia? Tell me?” he barked.
Kat’s voice wavered, “She collapsed. The paramedics are on the way. She’s pale. Her breathing is shallow and she’s drenched in a cold sweat.”
Racing towards the door, he yelled over his shoulder, “I’m on my way.”
His hand had barely touched the knob when Valentina’s cackle penetrated the air. Spinning on his heel, he sped back to the traitor and demanded, “What have you done?”
Gone was the weeping, wailing wench from a moment ago. Back was the conniving snake with a look of defiance in her eyes and a sneer on her lipstick-stained mouth. “I couldn’t be sure it had worked. I thought since you were here torturing me, she must not have eaten enough for it to take effect, but I see I was wrong. Your dear Cynthia did just as I had hoped.”
Slapping Valentina across the face with such force her head flew back and it took several seconds for her recover, Roman roared, “You will tell me what you have done or I will rip you limb from limb with my bare hands.”
Laughing as she smeared her ruined makeup across her face with bound hands, Valentina mocked, “Oh, Roman, if you kill me your agapiméni sas dies.” She slid down a bit in her chair and looked at the shackles around her wrist. “Of course, if you let me live I can guarantee a different outcome.”
Raising his hand to slap her again, Roman growled as Viktor stayed his hand and advised, “This is not working. The time has come for stronger methods.”
Taking several calming breaths, the King pulled his arm from the Commander’s hand and nodded while glaring at a gloating Valentina. Turning away he asked, “Whatever you say. Let’s get this over with.”
Shaking his head, Viktor advised while patting Roman on the shoulder. “No o aderfós mou, let me handle this. You need to be with your fýlakas tis kardiás mou. I have Lee, Sal, and Bain for assistance. Now go.”
Roman gave a single nod, turned, and headed to the door. Walking into the hall, he stopped short when Valentina yelled, “May you lose what you treasure the most, Romanus!”
Chapter Ten
Racing back into the room, he pushed past Viktor, grabbed Valentina by the shoulders, and shook her as he bellowed, “What did you say?”
With more confidence than he had ever seen her portray, Valentina purred, “Careful, lover, you don’t want to damage the merchandise.” She winked. “You wouldn’t want me to lose my memory.”
The need to throw her against the wall and separate her head from her neck made Roman see red. He imagined her broken body at his feet as his grip on her shoulders tightened to the point that she squealed in pain. Viktor pulled the traitor from his hands and returned her to her seat as he said, “Walk away. We need her…at least for the time being.”
Punching the wall until his knuckles bled, the King prayed to the gods for the strength necessary to interrogate the woman responsible for the suffering of his mate without killing her until he had the answers he needed. Viktor’s words ran through his head like a never ending mantra – We need her…for now. It was the only thing holding back the raging beast within him, the warrior seeking retribution, the man with the need to protect the woman he loved. Knowing that in the end, Valentina would die for her crimes against the keeper of his heart was the prize at the end of the journey.
Taking a deep breath and wiping his hands, Roman walked back to where Viktor was quietly talking to Valentina. When the Commander paused, he asked as calmly as was possible, “What do you know of ‘what I treasure most’?
“Oh, Roman, Roman, Roman, for a smart man you really can be quite obtuse at times. I would’ve thought you would have vetted your tréfon better than this.” The saccharine tone of her voice reminded the King of nails on a chalkboard and made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end but he stared, unmoving, waiting for an answer.
Chuckling, she flipped her hair to the side, unaware, or uncaring of the makeup smearing her face. Because of her vanity, Roman thought about telling her how truly awful she looked but choked back his childishness in favor of straightforward intimidation.
The longer he stared, the more Valentina fidgeted, until she finally sighed, “Oh, all right, I’ll tell you.” Once again she winked, making bile raise in the King’s throat, then cooed, “But you must indulge me to tell the whole story.”
Silence filled the chamber as precious moments ticked by and Roman dreamt of all the ways he would enjoy watching Valentina die. Finally, just as he thought he could take no more, the traitor spoke, “This story has been passed down from generation to generation in my family, since before my great-great-grandparents immigrated from Greece. Because of the time period and all the immigrants looking for work in the promised land that was America, my pappoús took the last name of the nice ferry captain who’d brought him and giagiá to the mainland from Ellis Island.”
“From that point forward, they were known as Mr. and Mrs. Stevens with their eleven well-behaved children, but they never forgot their roots and made sure their children and their children’s children remembered who they were. The name o
n the door may have been Stevens but they knew in their hearts the belonged to the Oikogénia Xenos. It became the most important thing any Stevens parent could pass onto their child at their age of consent – the Oikogeneiakó Mystikó – the family secret – the legend of the son of Xenophanes.”
Roman stood dumbstruck. He had not heard nor uttered the name of his half-brother since the night he’d left the bastard dead less than a hundred miles from Athens. Working hard to school his features as his heart thundered in his chest, the King heard Viktor move up beside him before scoffing in a nonchalant tone, “You obviously know nothing of Xenophanes. He died unmarried and childless in a pool of his own blood after being found guilty of treason against the Grecian Empire long before Hades had even dreamt of making a wretch as vile as you.”
Valentina’s maniacal laughter reverberated off the stone walls with such force Roman wondered if his ears might bleed before she finally spoke. Taking a deep breath, the vile creature sighed, “Oh, Viktor, I would be careful with what you think you know about history.” She tapped her chin with her long red nails. “What is the saying?” Narrowing her eyes and looking over the Commander’s head, she feigned thinking then added, “Ah yes, Pride goeth before a fall.”
Better at the art of negotiation than Roman would ever be, Viktor politely smiled, crossed his arms over his chest, and commanded, “Then by all means, explain, Miss Xenos.”
Batting her eyes and holding up her still shackled wrists, she pouted, “It would be so much easier if I could at least have the use of my hands.”
“Enough!” Roman roared. “I have had enough of your games, enough of your lies, and enough of you.” He grabbed the chain between her steel bracelets and pulled her to a standing position. Leaning over until their noses touched, he demanded, “Tell your lies whore or I will end you where you stand.”
Sniffing as if she had feelings, Valentina tried to hide her fear, but Roman could feel her shiver, smell her dread, and see the terror deep in her eyes. His ex-feeder had never seen this side of him. The King had worked hard to put the bloodthirsty warrior of the past behind him after walking away from the carnage in the clearing all those millennia ago, but this was different. The parasite before him had threatened his mate and dared to utter the name of his half-brother. Vengeance would be his and he cared not whether it was now or later.
