Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Nine
Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Nine
The moment is interrupted when we both hear a firm knock at the door. Silas is on his feet in an instant, his body rigid and alert leading me to roll my eyes at his attack dog stance.
“If someone came all this way to kill me or us, I doubt they’d bother knocking on the door.”
I walk over, look through the peephole and sigh when I see the calm face of my mother waiting patiently on the other side. This is likely to go about as well as a seal sunbathing on a block of ice with a hungry orca approaching.
I unlock the door, brace myself and open it, gracing my mother with a warm smile. “Ciao, Mamma,” I greet her.
“Ciao, Stellina,” she replies, stepping into the apartment and kissing my cheek.
I close the door behind her as I observe her assessing the state of my place, her brows furrowing in consternation. While it may be cleaned up, it still looks like the aftermath of a hurricane. As she scans the room, her eyes fall on Silas, creasing at the corners in that familiar way they do when she sees someone she doesn’t like. Seal, meet orca.
“So, this is Silas,” she says, her voice dripping with feigned admiration.
I place my hand on her back and guide her in, “Mamma, I’d like you to meet Silas Istrati. Silas, this is my mother Noemi Hatzis.”
Silas steps forward and extends his hand to her, “It’s an honour to meet you. I’ve heard incredible things about you.”
She quirks her eyebrow, reminding me instantly of where I get that look from as she extends her hand to Silas, shaking it firmly. Dad always says I got my good looks from her, and when I look at pictures of her in her youth, it’s undeniable.
My mother is a dignified fifty-two years old and could still grace the cover of any fashion magazine. Sure, she has fine lines around her mouth, and eyes, and a little between the eyes, but they look like the results of a joyous life rather than age. The only true indication of her age is the tiniest streak of white hair growing from just above her temple among her short, warm, walnut curls that sit just below her ears and sweep across her forehead. She may be middle-aged, but she could pass for late 30s in her high-waisted black leggings, gold-studded belt cinching her waist, kitten-heel black ankle boots, ribbed, black turtleneck and fawn, low-cut, wide-collar cropped suede jacket.
I watch as she proceeds to size up Silas, probably debating how easily she could take him if she needs to. I’ve fought Silas twice, so I know he’s no slouch, but neither is my mother. Believe it or not, it takes a lot of effort and strength to asphyxiate someone by hand. Because of this, my mother works out extensively. She’s not body-builder-level muscular, but you can’t miss the muscle definition on her body. She has the kind of abs you could grate cheese on. I always prefer a more toned figure, but my mother loves her muscles and trim figure. Don’t let the fashion fool you, when she’s sunbathing at home the men do a double take and immediately think to stay clear of her. Her thighs alone are deadly weapons. Just ask the former CEO of Akasaka Industries.
“I hear you’re the assassin who shot my daughter in Russia,” she says impassively, taking a seat on my tattered sofa like it was her thrown. “Scythe, isn’t it? I’ve heard an awful lot about you, including what a terrific shot you are. Or were the rumours just rumours?”
Silas smirks light-heartedly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, “The rumours were definitely all true, though usually when I shoot someone I haven’t just been stabbed and poisoned, so I think being off my aim was understandable,” he says in a business-like manner.
“And now here you are, living in my daughter’s apartment and airing her dirty laundry.”
“Mamma,” I admonish her.
“I get the feeling you don’t like me,” Silas remarks.
“Not even a little bit,” she says without missing a beat.
“Mamma, you just met him,” I point out in frustration.
“And I still don’t like him,” she says calmly, turning her attention back to Silas, “While I don’t like anyone who harms my daughter, I respect you were both just doing your job and it wasn’t personal. That being said, the drama you created among my family with your antics was very personal and if it were me in my daughter’s shoes that day, I would not have let you see tomorrow.”
“I wholeheartedly believe that. I behaved poorly and had my parents been there, they too would have been disgusted by my actions,” Silas admits, remorsefully. “I never intended to disrespect Dasha in such a way. She deserves better than that.”
“Yes, she does,” my mother states like it’s obvious.
“I’m in the room, you know? I don’t appreciate being spoken about as if I’m not here. For fuck sake, I’m twenty-three years old and people keep treating me like I’m twelve. I’m getting really fucking sick of it,” I say in exasperation.
“Don’t take that tone, young lady,” my mother warns.
“Why are you here?” I demand, wanting to get this…whatever the fuck this is, over and done with.
Mother rises to her feet and takes a calming breath. “Castor has gone missing,” she blurts out.
“What the fuck do you mean he’s gone missing?” Silas spits, storming over as fury ignites his emerald eyes.
Mother – calm as a cucumber – ignores Silas and keeps her eyes on me. “Naturally, now that he is excominicado, he is not the concern of the Drakos family, but since learning of his actions…”
Mother is forced to take another breath to keep herself composed, but I can see the glimmer of pain flickering in her eyes. See? There’s that guilt I was avoiding. My parents are strong people, and they pride themselves on that. I can’t even list all the people they’ve killed. To know everything that was going on under their nose has them feeling like failures and it fucking kills me.
“Go on,” I encourage her.
She nods, keeping her thoughts on topic. “We realise Castor is no longer someone who can be trusted. Clearly, he never was. Your father is looking into Castor’s dealings to see if there is anything else we missed, but the concern right now is retaliation. So, your father sent Ajax along with a few other men to monitor him. They arrived at his apartment, but they found it empty. Looked like Castor had destroyed everything in a rage. They’re trying to track him down, but so far no luck. I wanted to warn you in person and see how you are.”
My mother walks over and places her hands firmly, but comfortingly on my shoulders, her chocolate eyes looking into me with nothing but love and a mother’s concern.
“I know you’re strong. You’re the smartest person I know, and I couldn’t be more proud, but as your mother, I will always worry about you, and you can’t change that. Just promise me that you’ll be vigilant and not take any unnecessary risks.”
I give her a reassuring smile and squeeze her hands, “I promise. Silas and I will both be on the lookout for Castor should he try anything. But if the orders from Uncle Dimitris are to bring him in alive, then that I will not promise.”
“I would expect no less,” she smiles, kissing my forehead gently. “I think your father is just hoping he gets to be the one to do it,” she chuckles.
“Tell him to get in line,” Silas snorts.
Mother looks over at Silas through narrowed eyes, “Just what exactly do you contribute, other than drama?”
“If it weren’t for Silas coming to me in the first place I never would have known the depths of the plot against us. It’s also his contacts who helped us figure out this entire conspiracy and even gather some potential leads,” I say in Silas’ defence, earning a smug smile from him.
“So, you’re the useless one in this scenario,” Mother adds in, earning an amused snort from Silas.
I glare daggers at him before looking back at my patiently waiting mother. “I was the one who discovered the assassin behind the entire plot to begin with because I was the one with the balls to go out and speak to the Master of Ceremonies for The Tournament.”
“You did what?!” My mother shrieks, her eyes wide in horror.
“Oh, yeah. I hadn’t told you that part yet…”