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 take the service elevator up to Dionysus’s floor. A whole fucking floor. Ridiculous. But it has a little foyer right as the elevator opens, and that’s where I find the two security guards. I throw one knife the second the doors open, taking the left guard in the throat. They fall with a quiet gurgle, clutching at the blade and instinctively yanking it out. They’ll be dead within a minute or two.
The other has a chance to go for their gun, but I slam into them before they can draw it. I barely manage to keep us from hitting the wall and potentially alerting Dionysus and Ariadne and stab them enough times for them to stop fighting me. I drop them on the floor and walk back into the elevator, retracing my steps to the delivery entrance and out onto the street.
The whole thing took maybe fifteen minutes.
Once I’m a few blocks away with no sign of trouble, I pull out my phone and dial Ariadne again. She answers after a few rings. “Asterion, you have to stop—”
“Check your front door,” I cut her off.
Silence for a beat. “No…I don’t think I will.”
“Do it. I left a present for you.”
She’s a smart woman. She knows I didn’t go through all that trouble to drop off some chocolates. She sucks in a sharp breath. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
I don’t bother to answer because I can hear her moving around. She’s going to check.
A few seconds later, she gasps. “Asterion, what the fuck?”
“A reminder that I can get to you anytime I want. Tomorrow, Ariadne. Meet me at the coffee shop across the street.” I could threaten to do this again as many times as it takes until she does what I want. I could tell her that all these people’s blood is on her hands for denying me, even though that’s bullshit. But my woman has a big heart, and she hates unnecessary loss of life.
I don’t do either. There’s no point. That big brain of hers is already saying all that and more.
When she speaks again, her voice is thick. “Fine. I’ll be at the coffee shop tomorrow. Just don’t kill anyone else. Please.”
“Nine sharp.” I hang up.
***
Ariadne
I can’t breathe. I don’t remember falling, but I’m on my knees staring at the dead bodies of the two guards who were stationed outside Dionysus’s door. Two people killed by Asterion, just to prove that there’s nowhere I can run, nowhere safe enough, to protect me from my father.
From him.
I am such a fool.
I press my hands to my chest and slump back onto my ass. Now’s the time to scream, to call for help, but it’s too late. They’re dead and Asterion is already gone. He wouldn’t have called me to alert me of his little gift if he was still in the building and in any danger of being caught.
Shakes work their way through my body as I watch the pool of blood expand. I need to move. At the very least, I need to get up and tell Dionysus what happened, but I can’t seem to make my body obey my mind’s increasingly shrill commands.
What’s the point?
What’s the fucking point?
Of betraying my father? Of fleeing to the Olympians?
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wanted to be free, but that was never an option. It doesn’t matter what side of this conflict I end up on. I’m a pawn to be moved about at the whim of others. To be knocked off the board entirely when I fail to serve my purpose.
A pawn can’t even mitigate loss. I failed to alert Apollo in time to save the last Hephaestus. I don’t have the information or power to stop Circe from invading. I sure as shit can’t stop my father from continuing to stir chaos and violence in Olympus.
Useless. All I am is useless.
“Ariadne? What are you… Oh.” Dionysus stops a few feet away, his attention falling on the murdered guards. His already pale face goes a bit gray, but he gives himself a shake. “Come away from the door.”
“He killed them,” I whisper.
“Yes, I can see that.” He leans down and catches me under the elbows. I totter to my feet with his help, but the room feels hazy in a way that suggests I should sit down and quickly.
I watch with disbelief as Dionysus gently shuts the door. “What are you doing?”
“They’re both gone.” He comes back to me, once again taking my elbow and guiding me deeper into the penthouse. “Right now, I need to make some calls, and you need to lie down. I’ll take care of this.”
Take care of this? What a laughable concept. There is no taking care of this. Not the dead. Not Olympus. Most definitely not Asterion. “But—”
“Rest, Ariadne. You can’t do anything to help right now.” He says it kindly enough, but it stings nonetheless. Because he’s right.