Page 34 of Carry Your Debt

Christ.

“Also not important,” I repeat, clearing my throat when my words come out a little too huskily.

“Midas.”

My eyes jerk to Hades’s as if magnetized, finding him now hovering at Apollo’s side like an apparition in all black. The lines of his tailor-made outfit are immaculate—save for the way his dress pants pull too tightly around the fists now shoved inside their pockets.

“You looked uncomfortable when he asked you to dance,” he says, voice raspy from disuse, “and relieved when he left.”

Well, fuck.Trust the ever-silent, watchful one to pinpoint exactly which of my loose threads to tug at first. His focus now feels somehow even more intense, the weight of that knowing gaze a lead apron on my chest.

When I neither confirm nor deny his brother’s observations, Apollo, of course, takes that as an opening to bulldoze his way back into control of the conversation.

“What did he want with you? And don’t say just a dance. We heard his twenty questions. He was oddly interested in you.”

I purse my lips, casually examining my nails. Perhaps my promise to explaineverythinghad been a tad hasty, considering we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks—and not even well at that.

The problem is each time I contemplate walking away, there’s a troubling tug behind my sternum.

“He knows who I am. Well, he at least knows that I’m valuable to Sebastian, and that makes me potentially valuable tohim.”

Apollo’s brow pinches. “Because you’re a librarian?”

Amusement fizzes, tipping up one side of my mouth as I glance back up at him. “Notalibrarian.TheLibrarian.”

“You make it sound like a title.”

I hum, considering. “Not so much a title, it’s not like a job I applied for. It’s…what he made me.” I hold up a hand before there’s another interrogation, “But that’s also for when we’re back in Rox City. Just know that most of the Underworld knows the name, but not my identity. That’s strictly need to know.”

“Okay,” Apollo says, yielding for now. “But that creep Midas still thinks you’revaluable. Are you in danger?” he asks darkly, absently flexing his crossed arms.

Hermes resumes his pacing, and I’m so preoccupied with the agitated bounce of blond curls that I don’t see the way Hades’s shoulders stiffen or when Ares’s glower deepens.

My next swallow feels a little rough as I muse on that.Good question.

“Honestly? The Suits guard me like an heir, so I’ve always assumed he thinks I’m Sebastian’s daughter rather than a ward. I don’t know why he hasn’t made a move before, but Idoknow he prefers the long game.” My eyes slide back to Apollo. “Regardless, your father is the more imminent threat.”

“The Suits, that’s who you’ve been with this whole time?”

Most kids in Roxborough or Lexington grow up hearing scary stories about the Gray Man and his smartly dressed army. He’s the Twin Cities’ Bogeyman and the Gray Men—or the Suits as we like to call them—are the weapons he uses to haunt us.

I lift my mask, showing them the black feathers. “Yes, and if you see one of these tonight, they work for your father. With theexception of the three standing outside, you can’t trust any of them.”

Ares’s shoulders roll back at that. He looks about ready to start staging an armed insurrection against the Suits himself. “And he’s entered Tristan into these trials? What do we need to do to get his name off that list?”

“I said he’llmost likelybe nominating him since he’s allowed to nominate up to three heirs. And he won’t have a choice if that happens; a succession nomination’s binding. It’s like putting your name in the Goblet of Fire, so to speak.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, turning his whole body toward his best friend. “We can protect you?—”

“How?” I blurt, cutting him off. This isthe Gray Man.Four seniors and a few loose criminal connections aren’t going to cut it.

“What?”

“I know you guys seem to have a lot of sway at the Academy, and I’m impressed you’ve managed to dodge the Aces for so long. But being big fish in your little Rox pond won’t help you when there are actual sharks out there,” I say forcefully.

Ares only smirks. There’s a challenging glint in his eye like he thinks he’s finally got one over me. “We’responsored, Winters.”

“Noshit,” I drawl right back, “or you wouldn’t fucking be here. Bywho?”

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