Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
“Mamá,” I snap, losing my cool. “That’s enough.”
Talia leans in, her shoulder brushing mine. “Kostas, calm down,” she whispers, looking up at me. “She has a gun. Just let her say what she has to say. It’ll all be over soon.”
Absently, I kiss her lips and nod before looking at my mother. Mamá stares at me, her eyes empty and her features tired. She ages ten years before us.
“Talia and you both deserve more than this,” Mamá says, her voice devoid of emotion. “You deserve to make your own choices about love, not be forced into it because of the actions of your parents.” She regards Aris with a soft look that used to bother me when we were kids because I assumed it meant he was her favorite. “Aris, my boy, I’m sorry if I inadvertently hurt you by my actions. Your father enjoyed punishing me, and unfortunately, you were too much like me.”
Aris clenches his jaw and his eyes glass over with tears.
“And, Kostas, my boy,” Mamá utters, her eyes still soft as she regards me. “I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you or hurt you. I love you and your brother both. Equally. I always have.”
Talia squeezes my hand again, a reminder that even though we’re on different teams in this shit show, she’s offering her support. Confusing emotions war within me, but gratitude that she can put down our differences to comfort me wins over. Maybe this marriage will work out after all. Mamá has said her piece and embarrassed the shit out of everyone. Now, we can get back to dinner and Mamá can take a Valium.
“It’s time to put an end to this,” Mamá utters. “And the only way to do that is to eliminate the person who is the root cause of everyone’s pain.”
Pop!
Father’s eyes widen as his chest blooms red.
“Mamá!” I roar, rising to my feet as Aris does.
Adrian rushes forward and several women at the table scream in horror. I’m already stalking to my mother when she mouths, “I’m sorry,” before sliding the barrel of the gun between her lips. My eyes slam shut at the same time another pop is heard. Chaos ensues around us. When I reopen my eyes, my mother lies on the floor, a large pool of blood already forming around her head.
No.
No. No. Fucking no.
Something hot trickles down my cheek and I hastily swipe it away. Aris slides across the floor on his knees to pull Mamá into his arms. Her brain is blown across the wall. She’s fucking dead. I turn away from the horror scene and catch Talia’s horrified stare. When I see Talia’s grandfather, Emilio, and Adrian hovering over my father, speaking in low, calming tones, I realize he’s not dead. Yet.
“Father,” I choke out, rushing over to him and kneeling.
His face is pale. Adrian holds a dinner napkin to the wound to staunch the bleeding where the bullet came through his chest. I grab my father’s hand, another hot tear leaking from my eye.
“Father, don’t leave me too.”
He flutters his eyelids, but he doesn’t close them. No, he locks his gaze with mine, harnessing his inner Demetriou strength, and holds on.
“Stay with me, Patéras,” I plead, sounding every bit like his little boy. “Just fucking stay with me.”
“An ambulance is on the way,” someone shouts.
“Get everyone out of here,” Emilio barks out to Stefano. “Now.”
The room empties out save for the ones trying to keep my father alive and the ones sobbing over my mother’s death.
My only focus is my father.
I won’t lose them both.
Talia
The visual of Nora placing the gun into her mouth and pulling the trigger is imbedded in my brain. Everywhere I look, all I can see is crimson. There was so much blood everywhere. The walls and the floor were all streaked with red. I’ve seen people shot on shows, and every time it’s gory, but I had assumed it was done like that for show. To make everyone cringe. I never imagined, in real life, one gunshot could create so much red. So much blood.
I stood frozen in place, watching as Aris held his lifeless mother in his arms the same way my mom would hold me when I would scrape my knee from falling off my bike. He brushed her hair off her face, not caring that it was mangled and bloody. Almost unrecognizable. Begging her to wake up. Pleading with God to bring her back.
Kostas focused on his father, who was hanging on by a thread. He barked out orders. None of them made any sense, but it didn’t matter. Kostas just needed to feel in control in a situation that was completely out of his control.
I wasn’t sure who to go to. Before that moment, going to Kostas wouldn’t have even been an option. The only thing I wanted to do was run from him. But as I watched the drops of grief race down his face, all I wanted to do was hold him. Tell him, even though it was a lie, that everything would be okay.