5: Princess of Shadows
882 Words
CRACK.
The bullet spiderwebs the glass inches from my face, but it doesn't break through.
"Get down!" Leo roars, shoving my head toward the floorboard.
I hit the carpet hard, the smell of leather and dust filling my nose. My ribs scream in protest, a jagged line of fire tearing through my side. Above me, the SUV erupts into controlled chaos.
"Contact rear," Nikos says. His voice is ice cold. No fear. No panic. Just business. He jerks the wheel, and the heavy vehicle swerves, throwing me against the center console.
"I have a visual," Andreas says from the front seat. "Two shooters. Driver is aggressive."
"Light them up," Nikos commands.
The window above me whirs down. The rushing wind howls into the cabin, mixing with the roar of the engine. Then, the deafening boom-boom-boom of a handgun firing right next to my ear.
Hot brass casings rain down on me, burning my skin. I cover my head with my hands, curling into a ball. I’m shaking. Violently. I’m a waitress. I serve coffee. I dodge grabby hands at the diner. I don’t get shot at. I don’t lie on the floor of a moving tank while men kill each other over me.
"Got the tire!" Leo yells. He sounds happy. Actually happy. "Watch this!"
The SUV lurches as Nikos slams the brakes, then accelerates hard. Tires screech on asphalt. Behind us, there’s a sickening crunch of metal on metal, then a long, tearing sound of a car flipping.
"Scratch one," Leo laughs. He pulls himself back inside and hits the window switch. The glass seals us back in silence. "That was messy. I love it."
"Sit rep," Nikos demands, eyes glued to the rearview mirror.
"Target neutralized," Andreas reports, checking his side mirror. "The crash blocked the lane. We’re clear."
"Get up, Alina," Leo says, nudging me with his boot. "Show's over."
I scramble onto the seat, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. My hands are trembling so hard I can’t clasp them together. I look at Leo. He’s reloading his gun, his movements fluid and practiced. He looks energized. Alive.
"You... you killed them," I whisper. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.
Leo looks at me, confusion knitting his brows. "They were shooting at us, Princess. It was them or us."
"They’re people," I choke out.
"They’re Vasilakis scum," Nikos corrects from the front. He doesn't turn around. "And they wanted you dead. Get that through your head now, Alina. In this world, you are either the butcher or the cattle. We are the butchers."
I stare at the back of his head. These aren't my brothers. They’re monsters in expensive suits.
I look out the window. The city is fading behind us, replaced by the winding roads of the northern suburbs. The houses here aren't houses; they’re estates. Hidden behind high walls and iron gates.
We turn off the main road onto a private drive lined with cypress trees. At the end of it stands a structure that looks more like a fortress than a home.
Massive stone walls rise thirty feet into the air, topped with razor wire and cameras. The iron gates are twice the height of the SUV. Men in tactical gear with assault rifles slung across their chests patrol the perimeter.
"Welcome home," Andreas says dryly.
The gates swing open slowly. We drive through, passing manicured gardens that hide the violence of the perimeter. The mansion itself is enormous—a sprawling palace of white stone and marble columns. It’s beautiful. And it’s terrifying.
Nikos stops the car at the foot of the grand staircase. "Out. Now."
Leo opens my door. I hesitate. I don't want to step onto that gravel. I don't want to walk into that house. Because once I do, I know I’ll never walk out again.
"Don't make me carry you again," Leo warns.
I slide out, my legs wobbling. The air here is different. Cleaner. Colder.
The front doors open.
Dimitris Kostas steps out. He’s not wearing a jacket now, just his vest and shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that still look powerful. He stands at the top of the stairs like a king surveying his kingdom.
He doesn't look at me. He looks at the SUV. He sees the spiderweb crack in the rear window.
His jaw tightens. A muscle feathers in his cheek.
"Report," he says. One word. Heavy as lead.
"Vasilakis hit squad," Nikos says, stepping out of the car. "Two vehicles. Intercepted on the highway. We neutralized one. The other retreated."
Dimitris shifts his gaze to me then. I expect him to ask if I’m hurt. If I’m okay.
He doesn't.
He looks at my blood-stained hospital gown. He looks at the terror in my eyes. And he looks disappointed.
"They moved fast," he says quietly. "Faster than I anticipated."
"They knew the route," Andreas adds, walking up the steps. "Someone tipped them off."
Dimitris nods slowly. He turns to his sons, his voice pitching low, carrying the weight of a death sentence.
"Secure the perimeter. Double the guard. And get her inside."
He turns his back on me, walking into the shadows of the foyer.
"The Vasilakis family knows she's back," his voice echoes from the darkness. "The war has begun."
- Writer
