Page 80 of Muzzled

One month, one decade, one week ago, he would have agreed.

But the taste of Hades’s blood was still sharp on his tongue from two days prior when his master had attempted to free him.

Free.

Snarling in response, he flopped to his side and opened his eyes, watching the rhythmic waves of the river.

It had been three days since he’d returned to the underworld, Micah’s lifeless body held tight as he slammed into the unforgiving marble. Three days since Atropos had taken him to her home in Olympus to wait with her while she carefully reattached the lifelines of his brothers to their threads, his attention on the healing waters of her pool as she worked on his own.

He’d forced himself to watch her set Micah’s spool in its place, his stomach lurching when she pulled her clippers from her pocket.

He’d watched the life leave her once.

He couldn’t do it again.

So he’d hidden from it, turning his back to the Fate to avoid witnessing the final cutting of her thread, the final meticulous wrapping of the spool. And he continued to hide from it, even as she’d transported them back to the base of Hades’s throne that night.

“Where is that fool of a god?” Atropos mused aloud, shuffling across the room. “Perhaps a little snip to his lifeline would make him more attentive to the one who holds his thread in her hands.”

The Fate had become increasingly anxious over the course of the day, her mood souring as the minutes passed. It made her apt company for him while he stared into the abyss of the underworld hell, where the shades flitted for eternity, his vacant gaze searching the blackness for any sign of Micah.

The doors creaked open again, the matching swaggers of Alex and Bo pounding off of the marble and echoing in the stone hall.

“Ryan?” Alex called out, slowing his approach. “Dio’s on his way in, okay? He has something to show you.”

Ignoring his brother, he blinked to focus his vision, doubling his efforts to see into the abyss.

Bo paced the floor impatiently in his peripheral, his fingers flexing and fisting at his side. “Right behind you doesn’t mean five fucking minutes,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “Fucking Dio.”

“Fucking Dio is a fucking god,” Alex retorted, crouching at Ryan’s side, his knees bouncing. “Give them a minute.”

He tracked Atropos’s shuffling along the thrones, the tinny clinking of her scissors boring holes into his mind, threatening to let loose the thoughts and images he’d been fighting back for days.

The doors swung open, the clanging of the heavy iron against the marble walls announcing Dio’s entrance. “Orion, my boy. Stand up.”

Hackles raised, he hunched his shoulders to block out the call of the god, allowing his mind to be lulled by the movement of the water until another voice drifted through the reception room.

“Ryan?”

*

Micah let goof Dio’s arm for a moment, grasping it again when her legs wobbled. Ryan’s ears lifted before he buried his head in his paws, his hind legs pulling in under him. She glanced up at Dio in confusion, shuffling close to him when Hades squeezed past them and strode over to Ryan, his approach met with a low growl of warning.

“Ryan?” she called out again while Hades crouched down and gently tugged Ryan’s head back. Her concern morphed into indignation as she released Dio’s arm again and teetered toward them. “Is that amuzzle?”

Hades’s curses echoed in the hall as he was knocked over, the prone hellhound bounding over him and sprinting across the marble toward her. He skidded to a stop inches from her, his eyes wide and wild. He looked her up and down slowly as he circled her, his gaze flickering between disbelief and wariness. Her strength depleted, she sank to the floor and reached out to him, her heart clenching when he sniffed her hand and turned away, snarling through the iron cage strapped to his face.

“Your scent has changed,” Bo stated, grabbing Ryan’s collar and dragging him back before shoving his head into the crook of her neck and unhooking the leather straps. “Try again, you fucking idiot. You may be a shittier tracker than Alex, but even you know how to differentiate between a pure and a cursed bloodline.”

She held her breath as the cold iron pressed against her skin and he inhaled. “Why is that thing on him?”

Ryan shot away from her, the muzzle dropping to the marble as his head swiveled between her, his brothers, the gods, and the old woman standing motionless by the river.

“Go easy on him, Micah. He’s walking on half a lifeline,” Alex said, breaking the silence and giving Ryan a hard pat on the ribs. “Though I guess you know how that feels right now.”

A charge passed through the air, and Dionysus shook his head. “No shifting for you, boy. Not until Atropos reattaches those threads.”

Dio’s warnings of Ryan’s state rang in her ears, the hushed exchanges between Bo and Alex as she awakened echoing through her mind.

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