"Same thing." But she smiled, and the sight of it loosened something in my chest that had been tight for days. "Come sit with me."
I crossed to the balcony and settled into the chair beside hers. The Acropolis rose in the distance, ancient and eternal, a reminder that empires rose and fell while some things endured. I'd never cared much for history before. Now I found myselfthinking about legacy. About what would remain when I was gone.
"You're brooding," she observed. "I can hear you thinking from here."
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. You get this furrow between your eyebrows—" She reached over and pressed her finger to the spot in question. "Right there. It's very dramatic."
I caught her hand and brought it to my lips. "I prefer 'contemplative.'"
"Brooding." She smiled again, softer this time. "What are you contemplating so dramatically?"
"You. Us. The future."
"Heavy thoughts for ten in the morning."
"I've never had much to think about before. Beyond the organization, the business." I turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm. "You've complicated things."
"Good complicated or bad complicated?"
"Good." I met her eyes. "Terrifying. But good."
***
The call from Semyon came an hour later.
I took it in the study, leaving Gaby on the balcony with her book and a fresh cup of the ginger tea she'd grown to tolerate. The moment I heard my brother's voice, I knew the news was mixed.
"Kirill is out of surgery," he said without preamble. "Lost his spleen and about a foot of intestine, but the doctors sayhe'll make a full recovery. He's already complaining about the hospital food."
Relief washed through me. Kirill had served our family for fifteen years. Had taken bullets meant for me more than once. Losing him would have been a blow I wasn't sure I could absorb.
"And the others?"
"Twelve dead. Eight wounded, three of those critical but stable." Semyon's voice was flat, clinical. The voice he used when the numbers were bad and emotion wouldn't help. "The island is damaged but salvageable. Structural engineers say the main house can be rebuilt within six months. The security infrastructure will need to be redesigned from the ground up."
"Do it. Whatever it costs."
"Already in motion." A pause. "There's something else."
I'd known there would be. There was always something else.
"Pankratov's death has created a vacuum in the Armenian organization. Most of his lieutenants are dead or scattered. The ones who survived are fighting among themselves for scraps." Semyon hesitated. "But there's a complication. Aram had a younger brother—Tigran. He's been living in Yerevan for the past decade, supposedly retired from the business. Our sources say he's resurfaced."
"Resurfaced how?"
"He flew into Athens two days ago. Has been meeting with what's left of Aram's network. Making promises, gathering loyalists." Another pause. "He's not a direct threat—not yet. He doesn't have the resources or the manpower to move against us. But he's patient. Calculating. Different from Aram."
"More dangerous?"
"Potentially. Aram was driven by ambition. Tigran is driven by family. We killed his brother, Vasily. Beat him to death with your bare hands. That's not something a man forgets."
I thought of Gabrielle on the balcony. Of the child growing inside her. Of the future I was only beginning to imagine.
"Keep eyes on him. I want to know every move he makes, every contact, every breath. If he so much as looks in our direction—"
"You'll know before he finishes turning his head." Semyon's voice softened slightly. "How is she?"
