Vengeance (COMPLETED)

Part 18

Atticus spends the next few days strategizing with the combat team. He wants them fully prepared and the plan perfected, with no room for mistakes or errors. When he's not there, he's in the conference room, trying to come up with another plan in case ours fails. It could so easily. All we need is a response from Vassilis declining my request, and it's over. But he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity to meet with me. I've been studying all the prison files we have. I've memorised the floor plan of the visitors' rooms, and know all alarm signals off my heart. I might not need it, but I need to be just as prepared as the rest of the team. I need to be on high alert and aware of my surroundings at all times. If a speck of dust falls onto the floor, I need to know.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to see him. I don't want to see him. I don't want to be anywhere near him. I have no doubt the team will be able to keep me alive, but it's still a worry. It's definitely worth the risk, though. I just have to manage the emotional side of things, staying as calm and collected as I can. I just don't want to face him.

At this point, I don't want to face Atticus either. I've barely seen him the past few days. I'm not sure if he's avoiding me, or if he's just busy, but he still managed to make time for tonight's event — Angelis' 25th birthday. For the first time, I took the boat here alone. Atticus is already there when I arrive, deep in conversation with an older man who I recognise but don't know the name of.

"You made it!" Catarina hurries over to me, a grin on her face.

"I did!" I smile. "Do I look okay? I didn't know how formal I had to dress."

"You look great," she assures me. Everyone here dresses so neat. Catarina basically always looks like she's heading to a ball. I think this is the first time I've worn heels in years. I never had to wear them at work, and I always preferred to be prepared in case I had to run. It's strange to think I don't have to worry about that anymore, at least not while I'm here. I've paired them with a sleek black midi-dress, a split up the side of the leg. I even did my hair and wore false lashes. It's definitely fun to dress up every now and again. I've missed it. I see why Catarina does it every day.

Catarina takes me around the room, introducing me to the people I hadn't met yet. To my surprise, they all know who I am — the girl who helped take down Vassilis. I had no idea I was so appreciated by this crowd of people, but they each make a point to thank me. A few weeks ago, I would've hated to be in a room filled with mobsters. Right now, I'm enjoying myself just as I would at any other party. There's one woman in particular I speak to — Natasha, the Head of Wellbeing. It sounds like the job of a social worker at a school, not the mafia. She's about 15 or 20 years older than me, with the same nurturing energy my mother had. She used to babysit the brothers, she tells me.

"Back then, we didn't have a wellbeing team. I was just a nanny," she tells me. "We didn't have separate departments for education, or health. That all came when the boys took over."

"I heard they made a lot of changes," I respond. Everyone I've met so far has spoken highly of them.

"Oh yes, for the better. I always knew those little ones had potential," she chuckles. I can imagine them as kids, complaining about having to wear a suit on every occasion. I wonder if Natasha knows what Vassilis did to them. She must've. They couldn't have covered that up. They wouldn't even have had to bother. Vassilis was the boss. Crossing him would be a death sentence. "I'm glad Atticus met someone like you. I think you'd do him a world of good."

Uhm... what?

"Sorry?" I ask, checking to see if I misheard.

"You are together, aren't you?"

"No," I shake my head. "We're not."

"Oh. Word on the street is that there'll be w wedding coming up."

"Not mine," I laugh awkwardly.

"Isn't that what you're for?"

"No, I actually came here to help Atticus out with something."

"Oh, that's okay," a knowing look appears on her face. "There's plenty of time to fall in love."

"Uh... I don't think so."

"Give it a chance. We need more strong women around here. And with you, I think Atticus may have met his match."

"Thanks?" I'm not sure how to respond. I figured there'd be rumours swirling about us and why I'm here, it just feels odd to hear about them right after we kissed and both agreed it was a mistake. There's clearly nothing going on between us.

I say goodbye to Natasha shortly after, desperate for another drink. The champagne Catarina passed me when I arrived is long gone. Angelis is already seated by the bar.

"Happy birthday," I tell him. He doesn't seem excited. He just nods.

"How's your night been?" Angelis asks.

"Not bad. Are you having fun?"

"Eh," he shrugs. "Parties aren't really my thing."

"They aren't mine, either, but Catarina is pretty insistent."

"Yep," he nods. "I quickly learnt it's best just to go along with her."

"Yeah, I'm definitely starting to catch on to that."

"It makes her happy, so it's worth it."

"That's nice of you."

"Yeah, well, she got Santos off my back so I kind of owe her."

As much as I want to, I don't pry further into this. He didn't want to talk about it last time so I'm not going to bring it up now. He tips his glass towards the bartender, who tops it up straight away. I don't know if he should be drinking right now, but I'm not going to stop him.

"Hey, no need to judge, okay?" he says. "I've got this shit under control."

"I'm not judging. I'm joining," I order another glass of champagne. The second it's set before me, I bring it to my lips, downing half of it in one go.

"Big day?"

"Big week. Big month," I correct. "I'm so tired of thinking."

"What's on your mind?"

"Everything. My mum, my dad, your dad, being here, the whole prison thing... my head hurts from thinking," I confide in him. "So much is changing, I don't even where to start."

"I mean, that's fair. We are offering you a whole new life."

"Oh, god, that's just more to think about it," I take another sip. "It's too much. I'm sick of it."

"Alright great. Then let's stop thinking," he orders us a round of shots. I have no intention of getting drunk, but just a little tipsy couldn't hurt.