I clench my fists, forcing myself back under control, breathing, dragging my mind to what actually matters. I step back, trembling—not from anxiety, but from rage.
Apollo shifts aside, testing me. I don’t advance. He drops his guard. Atlas squeezes his shoulder in silent thanks.
“Don’t think I defended you because I care,” Apollo snaps, brushing Atlas’s hand off.
“Then why did you?” Drako asks, half-interested, eyes still glued to his phone.
“I’ve been the hotter twin for too long to let this ugly bastard steal my spot. Imagine my perfect face with a scar. Women would lose their minds.”
I close my eyes, incredulous that they can joke at a time like this. But we’re adults. And I know better.
Drako reads rooms fast and makes quick decisions. He’s hard to shock. In his mind, if Atlas wasn’t going to kill me—and that’s a certainty—there was no reason to burn calories stopping it, beyond enjoying the show.
Apollo is different. Hewasscared for his brother. He always is—even when the danger is harmless. Apollo would jump out of a plane without blinking, but he holds his breath if Atlas trips on the second stair.
Atlas watches me in silence, waiting for my real reaction—not the first one, fueled by impulse.
These three men are my friends. My brothers. We’ve fought and made up our entire lives. This won’t be different.
Again, my body moves before my mind does and I pull Atlas into a hug. He accepts it and says:
“I’m not apologizing. I don’t regret it. Nina needed help. I wouldn’t do anything differently.”
“Thank you,” I say—how I should have said it from the start. “Thank you, my brother.”
Only then does Atlas hug me back, still stiff.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he adds. “I did it for Kael.”
“Kael?” I repeat, needing the answer and fearing it at the same time.
“Your son. Nina had a boy. And it’s long past time you met him.”
I don’t know if seconds pass, or minutes, or hours—or eras. Time fractures. The world shifts.
I whisper prayers to saints I don’t even know and say thank you.
“So—shall we?” Drako breaks the spell, holding up his phone. “Four tickets to Pienza. We land today if you can stop rehearsing the next Mexican soap opera and move your asses. Zero points for drama, by the way. Terrible.”
CHAPTER 55
NERO ZANTHOS
The street is quiet— row of cookie-cutter houses and neatly kept verandas. In fact, the entire town seems calm, at least from what I saw on the drive from the airport.
Small shops, family-run restaurants, and houses with white fences are scattered everywhere. I should have guessed Nina would come to Italy, but I was too blinded by my own misery—and by Lysandra’s lies—to see what now feels obvious.
The city she chose, though far from Nina’s and Rosa’s hometown, is still familiar—and most importantly, the language is familiar. With Nina pregnant and the two of them leaving Khione with nothing, that mattered. My lips press together, swallowing the bitterness pooling in my mouth, because I deserve it.
“Are we sure she hasn’t been inside this whole time while we’re out here waiting for her to get home?” Drako asks from the back seat.
I stare at the duplex where Nina lives with her mother—and my son. A modest two-story place. Low fences mark the boundary with the sidewalk, and a wall no taller than five feet separates it from its twin.
The walls are a warm beige, the doors and windows a mix of wood and glass. Everything about it is different from the place Nina lived on the island. This town, really, is different.
For one, there’s no sea. Pienza is at least seventy kilometers from the coast. Nina loved the island’s beaches so much. Taking her away from that is another guilt I carry, I suppose.
“We are,” Atlas answers from the driver’s seat beside me. “Nina’s coming back from work. She should be here any minute now.”
