Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
His gaze lifts to meet mine in the rearview. He has whiskey-colored eyes, a deep amber that someone more foolish than me could lose themselves in. Someone who isn’t the fucking captive of a man who stares at me with something like pity.
Poseidon puts the car into drive. “Trying that is a bad idea. You won’t be successful; you’ll just end up getting hurt.” He says the words with a tense confidence that makes me believe him.
“You mean you’ll hurt me.”
“I would prefer not to.”
I huff out a choked laugh. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” If there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in Olympus these past few months, it’s that the ruling class here is just as corrupt and fucked up as the one in Aeaea. They murder, cheat, and steal and people applaud them because it’s entertaining. Poseidon might not appear to enjoy it, but he’s obviously just as willing to get his hands dirty as the rest. At least back home, the general public has the good sense to fear their leaders. Here, they’re a strange form of celebrity.
My father loves it.
Loved it.
Just like that, the events of the night come rushing back. He’s gone. The man who cast a long shadow over my entire life, moving goalposts I could never reach, constantly reinforcing the fact that I’m a disappointment of a son… Gone, felled by a single bullet.
To save my life.
I shudder and wrap my arms around myself. “Whatever. Take me wherever you want. A dungeon? Maybe Olympus has stocks you can lock me in and let the public toss tomatoes at my head.”
“Stocks are for your feet. You’re thinking of a pillory.” Poseidon huffs out a breath, but he doesn’t continue. He just drives. Later, I’ll worry about looking for an angle to leverage this shitty situation into one I can use to my advantage. Later, I’ll start crafting an escape route. Later…
It feels like between one blink and the next, the car is rolling through an impressive-looking wrought-iron fence and up to a startlingly massive Victorian-looking home…and then we drive past it, looping around the curved driveway to a much smaller building tucked into the trees behind the main house. It looks like an in-law setup, or maybe somewhere for the staff to live if the family didn’t want them in the house proper.
So this is where I’ll be held.
But when Poseidon hauls me inside, it’s hardly the cold, dank cell that I expect. The glimpse I get of the space as he drags me down the hall is startlingly cozy—low light, deep colors, sturdy furniture. This looks like a place that’s lived in. Cared for. Loved.
The hall ends in a staircase so narrow, Poseidon’s shoulders nearly brush the walls. I’m so bloody tired, more tired than I’ve ever been. My head feels like it’s floating a foot above my body. Everything hurts.
So when Poseidon opens a door and shoves me inside, I barely manage to turn to face him before he slams it shut. The click of a lock snapping into place feels very loud in my ears. “Locked in,” I murmur. “Of course.”
I turn and dredge up the energy to survey my new prison. It’s nice, as prisons go. The bed is large and looks comfortable enough that I have to fight against the urge to drop onto it and let unconsciousness take me. There are a sturdy-looking dresser and nightstand, both probably too heavy for me to move on my own. A TV mounted on the wall. Two gaming consoles situated on the shelf below it. Past that is a door into a decent-sized bathroom with a shower and tub, fully stocked with high-end products.
Stranger and stranger.
My immediate priority is to get these clothes off and scrub the salt from my skin. The bed looks inviting, but I know better. I haven’t slept properly in weeks, haven’t slept at all in days. I’m destined to lie there and watch the minutes tick by until dawn comes and it’s time to go through the motions all over again.
But thirty minutes later, when I’m clean, wearing someone else’s lounge pants I found in the bathroom, and between the sheets…I’m out like a light.
Apparently all I needed for a good night’s sleep is to be captive to an enemy who wants me dead.
2
Poseidon
Going home to shower is a waste of time, but I can’t fucking think with my damp clothes pressed to my skin, pulling with every movement, the salt starting to make everything crusty. It’s more than an irritant. It’s agony. My people—Olympus—need me at my best, and my best requires a shower and a clean set of clothes.
I move as fast as possible, but there are still half a dozen missed calls when I step out of the shower. Five of them are Zeus, who is very much alive despite the plans, weeks in the making, to change that. The sixth is from Hera.