Chapter 1

• ADIRA
• Breathe, Adira. Fucking Breathe.
• Blood and glass were everywhere. I refused to open my eyes, because the next shot could land anywhere, and I wasn’t about to get my head blown to pieces.
• God, why me?
• I just wanted some peace for once. That was the fucking plan. Instead, I’m in the midst of a goddamn shoot out.
• “Mr—”
• A bullet cut him off. His head snapped back and he fell to the ground with a sick thud. I swear, I felt my soul leave my body.
• I managed to hold back the scream bubbling in my throat.
• I should’ve known better than to pray for peace. Now, I’m being royally fucked in the ass by the universe.
• Breathe Adira. Breathe.
• You’re probably wondering how I got here, in this mess, with blood and,… holy shit is that a fucking eyeball?!
• Breatheeee!!!
• Fine. You want the backstory? It starts two days ago, where all bad ideas do, with Pen, a club, and a promise that “one drink” wouldn’t kill me.
• Spoiler alert: she lied.
• Two days earlier…
• “Are you sure you want to spend your vacation in Greece?” my mother asked, brow furrowed as she folded a blouse into my suitcase.
• “Yes, Mama,” I replied, tucking my bag of Flamin’ Hot Lays into my carry-on. “Mykonos is exactly what I nedd. Quiet. Peaceful. And after dealing with Baba for two years straight, peace is exactly what I need.”
• My headache made an unwelcome appearance at the thought of last night’s argument. Eight years shadowing my father, two years as COO, and yet he acted like taking a vacation was a betrayal to him.
• Mama sighed. “I just think Greece is too far away. Why not Canada instead? I looked it up, and there’s a fantastic gyros spot in Toronto.”
• “Gyros?” I laughed. “Mama, the gyros in Mykonos will blow Canada’s out of the water.”
• Her gaze shifted to my chips. “Do you really need to take those? You’ll ruin your stomach, agapoula.”
• (sweetheart)
• “It’s just a little spice Mama,” I said, slipping them into my carry-on triumphantly. “Keeps my tan even.”
• She shook her head, smiling faintly. “Just be careful Adira. Don’t get hurt or food poisoning.”
• I held back a groan.
• “Mama,” I said, turning to look at her. “You don’t need to worry. I’ve travelled solo for the past five years and I’m still alive.” I took her hand and squeezed gently. “Halárose, Mama. I’ll be fine.”
• (Relax.)
• Her green eyes shimmered and I froze.
• “Oh no. Please don’t cry,” I begged. “You’re acting like I’ll end up… I don’t know… dead with a blood-stained note on the porch.”
• Bad move. Her sniffles turned into full sobs. I should know by now to keep my morbid thoughts where they belong: in my head, and not out of my mouth.
• “Okay, not dead,” I scrambled. “Maybe just… hairless?”
• Strike two. Her tears escalated. I seem to have forgotten how much Mama loves my curls.
• I sighed and pulled her into a hug. Eventually, she quieted and looked up at me.
• “One day, that mouth of yours will land you in trouble,” she warned, dabbing her nose with a silk handkerchief.
• “Well, it’s the same mouth that keeps us in the Fortune 500,” I shot back.
• She slapped my arm playfully.
• “Ouch!” I protested, feigning pain.
• “That’s what you get for not behaving like a lady,” she teased, a faint smile breaking through her worry.
• As she turned to leave, she paused by the door. “Please, just be careful,” she said softly. “And smile more, dear. You don’t want wrinkles like mine.”
• I laughed. If I get to age like her, I’d take it.
• *********************************
• JFK Airport
• The terminal buzzed with life. Baba stood beside me, tall, intimidating, his bald head gleaming under the lights, and his coffee-brown eyes as sharp as ever. His presence commanded respect.
• He earned it though. Being a first-generation African American man that had seen more discrimination in the business world than anyone ought to, he wore his hard-won success like a badge of honor.
• “Did you really need to take a commercial flight? The jet was available, Adira.” he said, arms crossed in disapproval.
• “Yes, Baba,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “It’s first class. Not exactly cheap, you know.”
• He said nothing for a moment, then sighed. “Just be safe.”
• His worry tugged at me. Just like Mama’s did.
• Was there something I needed to watch out for? Deciding to ignore that thought, I looked at my father fully and for a moment, the unshakeable titan of industry looked vulnerable.
• Baba was tired.
• “I will,” I promised. “I’ll call when I land.”
• His expression melted. “Come here, little warrior.”
• The nickname softened me. He’d called me that since I threw a rock at a bully in kindergarten. Not my best move, but it was effective.
• I hugged him tightly, breathing in his familiar cologne. Baba wasn’t big on affection, which made moments like these rare treasures.
• “This is the final boarding call for Athens,” the speakers blared.
• “You wouldn’t be rushing if you’d taken the jet,” he muttered. He just always had to get the last word.
• Laughing, I grabbed my luggage. “Goodbye, Baba,” I said with a playful salute as I walked off.
• *********************************************
• As I sank into my seat, I just couldn’t wait to get to our home at Mykonos.
• I opened my bag of chips, ignoring Mama’s voice in my head. The fiery tang made me smile so wide the man beside me probably thought I was insane.
• Whatever. Worth it.
• As the plane lifted off, I swallowed two anxiety pills. They’d make me queasy, but better that than a panic attack midair.
• Closing my eyes, I exhaled. Greece wasn’t just a getaway, it was my reset button.
• No boardrooms, no deadlines. Just freedom.
• I’ve left my burdens back at the gate.
• As sleep pulled me under, I whispered a prayer to the universe.
• Let this be the start of something new.
• I should have known by now to be more specific with my prayers.