Page 134 of Ruthless

He paused, studying Luka's face. "And now Prometheus is dead. While the circumstances differ, certain elements surrounding his death raise... questions."

"You think there's a connection?" Luka asked.

Rhadamanthys's smile was razor thin. "I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that these... coincidences... warrant scrutiny. As a Judge, I observe patterns. Nothing more."

"Zeus," Luka said.

Rhadamanthys's expression remained carefully neutral. "A theory. Nothing more. Whether Zeus exists as an individual or a coalition—or at all—remains unclear. But someone, somewhere, benefits from these... changes in leadership."

"Why tell me this?" Luka asked, suspicion evident in his voice.

"Because, Director Aleksandar, you've just promised reforms that strike at the heart of the Pantheon's most sacred traditions. Consider your position carefully. The reforms you propose have consequences beyond their immediate impact."

"You think my appointment is a setup."

"I think a wise man would watch his back." The Judge's eyes narrowed. "Especially one implementing controversial reforms with so many... interested parties observing."

I watched Luka absorb this, his jaw tightening.

"So I should abandon the reforms?" Luka asked.

"I did not say that." Rhadamanthys adjusted his bolo tie. "I merely suggest prudence. Documentation. Awareness. Build your network carefully. Trust selectively." He tapped Luka's chest with onefinger. "The Pantheon houses many 'concerned colleagues' who'll offer support with one hand while measuring your coffin with the other."

"Comforting," Luka said dryly.

"This is not a game, piccolo," Rhadamanthys said. "You've stepped into a position with certain... historical vulnerabilities. Be vigilant. The reforms you propose are... necessary. Many would agree. But necessity and safety rarely walk hand in hand." He tipped his hat to us and made his exit.

I took Luka’s hand and squeezed it. "Luka, if that's true—"

"It's still better than the alternative," he cut me off. "At least this time I have position and resources. And you. Let's celebrate tonight."

I smiled, relief still washing through me in waves. "What did you have in mind?"

"Dinner. The three of us." His eyes moved to Ana, who walked slightly ahead with Lo. "Maybe at that little place in the East Quarter? The one with the Bosnian dishes."

"Amina's?" I asked, remembering our last meal there, how he'd shared pieces of his childhood with me.

"Yeah." Something softened in his expression. "I think Ana might like it."

The restaurant welcomed uslike old friends, Amina's weathered face breaking into a smile when she spotted Luka. Her eyes widened seeing Ana beside him, her gaze darting between their identical blue eyes before understanding dawned.

"Two of you now?" she asked, her accent thick but her meaning clear. "Twins?"

Luka nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "My sister."

Ana's eyes widened at the first taste of ajvar spread on fresh somun bread. "This tastes like..." she trailed off, tears gathering in her eyes. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. "I can't—there's something—"

"What is it?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Laughter," she whispered, her accent suddenly thickening. "A wooden table. Mama scolding someone... you?" Her gaze snapped to Luka, confusion clouding her features. "It's real. It's actually real."

"You're remembering," I said gently. "When powerful memories resurface, they can feel overwhelming."

She pushed the plate away abruptly, her hands trembling. "He made me believe we were Serbian. That my parents died in the conflict when I was six. That he rescued me from a refugee camp." Her eyes darted around the restaurant, momentarily disoriented. "He made meproud of a heritage that wasn't even mine. The heritage of people who killed our parents."

"Ana," Luka said softly, "you don't have to do this now."

She shook her head fiercely. "No. I need to. I need to remember." She took another bite of the ajvar, this time deliberately, methodically. Her eyes closed as she chewed. "We had goats," she said suddenly, her voice gaining confidence. "And I hated milking them because my hands would get so cold in the morning."

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