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Kostas

The dark blue waters of Mirabello Bay are cal inside me Where the sea before ht, the one I hold clai

Skoulíki

I liftthe burn that races down er flickering insideto spread like wildfire Whenet burned

Someone clears their throat Just once Quietly A reminder to move the fuck on

Yes, Father

Reluctantly tearing uest with cold, barely contained contempt A skoulíki in our rich, fruitful soil A man so sli here, tainting the exquisite roo in

Niles Nikolaides

Nothing but a filthy wor plucked fro the piece of shit who’s sitting uncomfortably in a leather araze around the roo for me to make a move, especially Father

The rab Niles by the throat and throw hi easy for a ht under our noses Allowing passage into Thessaloniki without paying the Demetriou tax

“You think because we are in Crete we don’t see what it is you’re up to at our port?” I ask,

Niles clenches his jaw and sits up, shaking his head His good looks won’t help him in a room full of men who hate him And while my father has never come out and stated why, I can see pure hatred for Niles flickering in his hazel eyes

Father leans back on the leather sofa, and a s Niles in the hot seat, the center of rins While forcing Niles to squirm some more—like the worm he is—as he waits for me to continue, I study my brother