Page 92 of Beneath Scarred Vows
Katerina flips it open and glances at the image at the top—then stops cold. I see her sit up straight and tense up.
"No." She's shaking her head, her fingers trembling against the manila folder. She looks up at me, eyes wide with something I've never seen in them before. "No, Ares, no."
32
KATERINA
My heart stops as I stare at the photograph, my fingers frozen against the crisp manila folder. He looks back at me—the familiar silver beard and hawk-like nose are unmistakable.
I shake my head, throat closing.
Ares watches my reaction carefully. "No?" he asks.
My stomach twists violently as I look again at the face that had once smiled at me across my father's dinner table. The face that had brought me dolls when I was a child. The face that had stood, tears streaming down his cheeks, at my family’s funeral.
George Zervas.
"No, that's not possible." My voice cracks.
Ares cocks his head, his expression changing from surprised to suspicious. "Not possible?"
"He was my father's best friend. He's not that kind of man." I shake my head, still staring at the photograph.
Ares scoffs, his body tensing. "He's the head of the Zervas family, Katerina. What kind of man do you think he is?"
"A businessman. A friend." The words come out more defensive than I mean. I scratch my head, old memories clashing with this new reality Ares is presenting.
"A businessman?" Ares's voice rises. "Your father was a businessman. Mine too. George Zervas is a fucking murderer."
I close the folder, unable to look at him anymore. "There must be some mistake."
"There's no mistake." He rips the folder from my hands. "You think my brother would hunt down someone just to get the wrong name? You think we'd go after him without being sure?"
I'm spiraling.
I remember the warmth in George's eyes when he visited after the fire. How he'd sit with me for hours when I wouldn't speak to anyone else.
"He was there for me. After the fire. After everything—he was kind. My father trusted him with everything, like a brother."
"Maybe he has something to do with the murder of your family, too!" Ares shouts.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Ares steps closer, his eyes hard, "that perhaps George Zervas has a pattern of eliminating his so-called brothers."
"No." I back away, bumping into the chair behind me. "No, he wouldn't—he couldn't have?—"
"Couldn't have what, Katerina?" Ares's voice is dangerously soft. "Ordered the hit on your family too?"
The room spins around me. I grip the chair to steady myself.
I remember George insisting I come stay with him after the funeral, before my uncle stepped in.
George, always checking on me, even after I moved in with Stavros.
"Did your uncle ever do business with the Zervas family?" Ares asks, watching me carefully.
"I—I don't know. Maybe." I sound unsure because I am. "Stavros never told me anything."
