I remember Drazen screaming at me to take his hand. I remember refusing to let go of Kratos, and the Serbian kingpin diving in next to me to help pull Kratos’ bulk out of the water.
She saved him…
I shudder as I sob into Dante’s chest.
I don’t know if I even did. Nobody does. Right now, Kratos is in emergency surgery with a specialist that just got airlifted here from Boston. When I grabbed a nurse ten minutes ago and asked what his chances were, she just pursed her lips and told me the important thing was to remember that I loved him.
I do.
And I’m not ready to lose him.
I can’t.
The conversations around me go silent. Turning, my eyes land on Dimitra as she steps into the middle of us. With a sob, I pull away from my brother and rush to her. My arms wrap tightly around her, and I start to cry with more anguish and pain than I’ve ever felt before.
“I’m sorry,” I choke, clinging to her for dear life as the frail little old lady hugs me back firmly, being my rock. “I’m so, so sorry—”
“For what, engoni?” she says softly, stroking my hair. “Loving my grandson? Saving him?”
“I—” I choke back a sob. “I don’t know if I did.”
“You did,” she whispers fiercely. “Believe me, you—”
“Mrs. Drakos?”
Dimitra releases me and turns at the sound of a man’s voice.
“Yes?”
His mouth twists awkwardly as he nods at me. “I, uh, I meant the other Mrs. Drakos.”
My face pales. “Yes?” I croak.
The hallway goes silent.
The man clears his throat.
“Could we, uh… Could we talk privately?”
My heart wrenches and my legs threaten to give out. Just as I’m about to fall, Dimitra is there, grabbing my hand and gripping it firmly, pouring all her strength into me.
“Right here is fine,” I choke.
The man’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry, but hospital policy is for immediate fam—”
“We are his family,” Ares growls.
“In this case, sir, immediate means spouse—”
The man gasps as Hades grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall.
“Is my brother going to live or die, you fuck?!”
Wide-eyed and pale, the man looks at me. “Mr. Drakos is out of surgery and in recovery. He’s going to be fine.”
This time, as the hallway erupts into cheers, I do collapse to the ground. But the tears that fall down my face aren’t tears of sadness.
They’re tears of pure joy.
Gratitude.
Relief.
And love.
EPILOGUE
KRATOS
I was eight when I stole for the first time. It was a Snickers bar, from the gift shop of some ritzy hotel on the other side of Central Park.
I’m no Oliver Twist or Aladdin. This wasn’t stealing to eat and survive, or anything noble and poetic like that. I mean for fuck’s sake, I could see the damn hotel from the grounds of my family estate towering over Central Park South.
Even at that age, I knew how my family made money. I knew what we were, and what I’d probably become. I remember rationalizing the theft by telling myself the hotel charging two grand a night for a room didn’t need the Snickers bar. Especially when they were trying to sell the fucking thing for nine goddamn dollars.
I mean, fuck right off with that shit.
Dimitra caught me, because of course she did. I gave her the same rationalization I’d given myself. It made her smile, but she still made me bring the Snickers bar back and apologize to the gift shop clerk who probably didn’t give a shit anyway.
