Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“I need your sister’s new number.”
“Absolutely not.”
I fight not to grind my teeth. It’s inconvenient as fuck for him to try to grow a backbone now. Thankfully, Icarus’s weak point is practically a neon sign flashing above his head. “Do you want her dead?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that? Of course I don’t.” He curses. “Not like what I want matters, though.”
Under normal circumstances, he’d be right. I have few qualms about doing what needs to be done. But Ariadne isn’t one of Minos’s many enemies. Not that Icarus is savvy enough to recognize that. “If you don’t give me a chance to talk to her, I’ll slit her throat the next time we come face-to-face.” I deliver the statement mildly; there’s no need to yell. I’ve never hurt Icarus, but the possibility has always stood between us. It has ever since his father brought me home at fourteen. And that’s enough to fool Icarus into thinking I could ever hurt her.
He might dig his heels in out of sheer perversion when it comes to Minos’s orders, but he genuinely cares about his sister. A single threat against her, and he’s always folded like wet paper. Just like he does now. “You are such a bastard.”
A fact he never lets me forget.
I don’t say anything in response, and a few moments later, he curses again and rattles off a phone number. I hang up without saying goodbye. What’s the point? The only thing that bonds us is mutual loathing. I’m the man his father wants him to be, the constant reminder of all the ways he’ll never measure up. Not tall enough, not strong enough, not vicious enough. Sure as fuck not ruthless enough. If he was, he would’ve called my bluff.
But then, being a ruthless bastard means there’s no guarantee it was a bluff.
I type the number into my phone without hesitation. There’s no point in wasting time. Within seconds, Ariadne’s throaty voice is in my ear. “Hello?”
I let the connection wash over me for single moment before I force myself to focus. “Come downstairs and go to the coffee shop on the corner across from your building.”
Her shocked inhale irritates me. Did she really think I wouldn’t come for her? I meant what I said back in that maze. She’s been mine from the moment I saw her. It might have taken me fifteen years to claim her, but I’m sure as fuck not going to let her get away now.
“Don’t make me wait.”
“I can’t meet you, Asterion. I can’t see you ever again.”
She really believes that, which only makes me angrier. I don’t expect her to tell me about the things bothering her. Her father made damn sure that she doesn’t trust anyone enough to do that. But I’m not just anyone. We are not just anyone.
She should have come to me the moment she knew she was in trouble. “Get your ass down here right now. You won’t like what happens if you make me ask again.”
“No.” Her voice firms up. “I know my father sent you, and I’m not going to play into his hands. Goodbye, Asterion.” She hangs up.
“Son of a bitch.” I almost call her back, but it won’t change a single damn thing. As long as she believes she’s safe in that tower, she’s not going to cooperate. Stubborn woman.
So be it. I’ll ensure she knows that I can get to her anytime I want. We’ll see if that changes her tune.
***
Part of my and Theseus’s training back on Aeaea was doing missions exactly like the one I’m conducting tonight. Infiltration. It’s a good thing Aphrodite set up Ariadne with Dionysus, because I already have the specs for his building and dossiers on the security team. So I know the solo guy they have on monitors for night shift likes to sneak his boyfriend in every night right around…now.
As if on schedule, a tall white man wearing jeans and a light jacket walks around the corner. He doesn’t see me in the shadows across the street. Neither does his boyfriend, who unlocks the door for him and hurriedly ushers him into the building, both of them laughing under their breath. Judging by the information I have, there’s a solid thirty-minute window where he won’t be watching the monitors too closely.
Perfect.
I circle the building to the delivery entrance where there’s a single guard at the door playing on their phone. They never see me coming. I cover their mouth with my hand and stab them a few times in the chest. They go limp almost immediately, and I ease their body to the ground and grab their badge.
Rich people are all the same. Even when they’re bolstering up their security, they focus on the front-facing elements, the bits they can see. The same can’t be said for the spaces the help occupy. Gotta have those creature comforts.