Indebted to the Mafia King
Fallout

Eleni

I gape at Dante. Christos asked him not to tell us? Why wouldn't he want us to know he was dead?

"Why should I believe you?" I say, clinging to the last vestiges of the shell I've built up.

He drops back into his seat. "That's your question to answer. I've told you everything I know. I was just keeping a promise."

My anger burns away my grief. "Keeping a promise? You lied to me, Dante. You let me sleep with you, and you hid this from me."

"I took his body out with the rest of our men," he says like I didn't speak. "Tony and I buried him upstate. I buried him, my friend, with my own fucking hands. I can show you, if you want."

I slam my hands down on his desk. "Are you listening to me? What the hell made you think that would help? I'm leaving in the fucking morning."

"That's your choice," he says evenly. "But you should know this isn't a life people just get to walk away from."

"Is that a threat?"

He meets my gaze. "It's a promise. You have a reputation after these last two weeks. That brings respect, loyalty, but it also carries a price. I can't even imagine what your head is going for these days."

I scowl at him. "Oh, it's not a threat, it's a promise someone else is going to threaten me. Real nice."

"Listen to me, Eleni," he says quietly. "You can leave New York. My plane will be ready in the morning, but if you do, never come back."

I take a step back from the danger in his voice. "Now that's a fucking threat."

"No, I-" He shakes his head, and the aura of power radiating from him cracks. When he looks up at me again, something real shines in his dark eyes. "I love you, El, and I'm never going to stop. I don't know how I could share a city with you if we weren't—” His voice cracks. "I'd want to make you mine. Forever."

"Then let me make it easy on you." I open the door to his office and storm up the stairs to the office where I left my suitcase. It's already nearly two am. It's not like I'm going to sleep at this point. I may as well just sit at my desk, even with the crappy chair I haven't replaced.

But once I slam the door behind me, my anger starts to fizzle out, and everything seems much more complicated. Upstate. Does he mean at that safe house? Had I been that close to Christos, for the first time in years? The thought of seeing his grave summons more of the tears I'm trying to ignore. I swipe them away and circle around to sit at my desk.

There, on the top, sits my open suitcase, with the picture of Dante and Christos smiling up at me. I lift it, expecting more memories of Christos from that last summer to pour through me, but I replace myself looking at Dante, thinking about what Tony said. In college, he was the life of the party. The king of the campus, like I thought Christos was. He looks like it here. There are fewer lines around his eyes, less of the fine silver threads I found in his hair. His smile is light and bright like I've seen only a few times, and it reaches his eyes easily.

I sit in the chair, picture still in hand. It would be so much easier to pack my bags and walk off into the night. But I just...can't. That last look he gave me, the way his voice cracked. Dante loves me. And, God almighty, I love him. I drop my head onto the desk. I'm so stupid.

I don't know how long I sit there for, but eventually, I realize I'm going to lose my mind if I don't do something. I hop to my feet and stride out of my room. At first, I don't know where I'm going. Or at least, I pretend I don't, until I see the pool of golden light flowing from Dante's room. My feet turn in that direction even before I've given the order. I stuff the picture into my back pocket and push the door further open.

Dante sits up in his bed wearing only a T-shirt and boxers with his eyes closed. My breath catches. Wanting him, at least, isn't stupid. He's beautiful.

"It's dangerous to sleep after a concussion," I say.

He opens one eye. "We did the whole test. I'm not concussed. And I wasn't sleeping, anyway."

His boxes sit on the floor, still unpacked. He hasn't turned the pictures around yet. My mouth goes dry. Only a few days ago, I didn't know whether Dante was going to survive. Packing him away felt right. Building a wall around my heart felt like the right course of action. Walling myself off from ever believing a word out his mouth again felt... Horrible, but here I am.

But I do believe him. His retelling of Christos' last year on this planet makes perfect sense. It's like I finally have the pieces to a puzzle I've been searching for, and that crushing burden I've been carrying on my shoulders since his disappearance lifts, leaving me feeling whole for the first time in years.

I don't recognize this feeling. This relief. Because that's what this is, and what he just offered me by telling me the truth.

Against all my better instincts, I climb into bed with him and rest my head in his lap. He's so warm, and when he drapes his arm wordlessly over my shoulders, the last of the ice around my heart evaporates.

I sob. Fully body, shoulders shaking, no chance of looking pretty weeping. And he just strokes his thumb back and forth over my bare upper arm in time with his heartbeat. I almost lost him. His confession felt like losing Christos all over again. I don't even know how many people I've killed. I've found something I'm really good at and it's turning me into a monster. In two weeks, my whole life has turned upside down.

When my tears start to slow, I twist and look up at him. "What were you thinking?"

"When?" he asks softly.

"When you got shot," I murmur. "When you almost left me alone here."

"El...." He gathers me up onto his chest with a wince. "Do you still love me?"

That's easy. "Of course I do. I couldn't stop if I wanted to, and trust me, I tried."

He smiles wryly. "Then I'll ask the real question. Do you still trust me?"

My heart skips a beat. I stare into his pitch-black eyes, searching for an answer I'm not sure I have yet. Whatever I say here will define the rest of my life. Do I go to Greece with Mama, or do I chase what I've found here? He strokes a few curls back from my temple with the gentlest fingers, and I know my answer.

"Yes,"

Dante kisses me, and for a moment, it's like the last two weeks have disappeared. His mouth moves over mine with the same expert precision, teasing little sighs and shivers out of me. But, too fast, he leans back against the pillows, panting. "Are you staying then?" he asks.

I bite my lip as want curls in my gut. Maybe the last two weeks don't have to disappear. Maybe we can replace a new equilibrium. I nod and lean in to kiss him gently.