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“Thank you... for being a good mother to me.”

The door closed behind him.

I returned to the prayer table slowly and picked up my rosary again.

Because when your son carries the weight of justice on his shoulders…

You pray even harder for his soul.

CHAPTER 31

Ares

THE FOLLOWING MORNING…

“You Get Me”

Paris was still waking up when we arrived at the train station, the sky pale and soft over the glass ceiling above the platforms. Travelers moved through the terminal, dragging luggage, sipping coffee, living their quiet little lives.

Azaria looked like she stepped out of a different decade.

An old French film.

A straw hat sat perfectly on her head, the wide brim dipping low enough to help hide her face. Big dark Prada sunglasses covered most of it anyway. A small black classic Chanel bag hung from her shoulder, swinging gently every time she walked.

She had on a fitted cream dress that hugged her waist and fell just past her knees.

Classy.

Expensive.

Quiet luxury.

The kind of woman people stared at twice.

I wore black slacks, a black blazer over a white dress shirt, the collar open. Jewelry sat heavy on my neck and wrists, including the cross my mother had given me, and my rectangular Versace sunglasses blocked out the morning glare.

The station was busy, but I still noticed something.

A quick flash.

Someone lifted their phone and took a picture. I frowned, but I didn’t react. Azaria was too excited to notice anything.

“I always wanted to ride this train,” she said while walking beside me. “Since I was little.”

Her voice carried that rare tone she didn’t show often.

Excitement.

“They say it’s the fastest train in Europe.”

I glanced over at her. “You’ve been talking for twenty minutes straight.”

She smirked. “And you’ve been quiet for twenty minutes straight. What’s good? Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m listening.”

She tilted her head. “Are you?”