Page 23 of Nemesis

Silence. My breath is trapped in my lungs.

“War is coming to Sterling Falls,” Hypnos whispers. “And I want everyone tofall.”

Hades makes some movement with his fingers, or maybe his foot. I’ve never seen this version of an alarm. But suddenly Hypnos is surrounded by raven-masked men who catch his arms and drag him away. Not out the main door, but past them to the side.

Closer to me.

Hypnos’s bright gaze lands on me, and he laughs. “There you are, Artemis. Sticking to the shadows like always.”

He’s not even struggling against the men, seemingly resigned to the fact that he’s being escorted none too gently to the exit. His feet drag on the marble floor, and his eyes burn into me.

“Your demise will be the sweetest,” he promises. “Always the hunter. But now, you will be the hunted.”

“Get himout,” Apollo orders.

Hypnos laughs. It’s a laugh that seems to echo in my ears even after the doors slam behind him.

I rip my mask off and let out a shaky exhale. I turn away from my brother and his friends, touching my cheeks. They’re hot. My whole body is engulfed in flames.

“What the fuck was that?” Ares asks.

I glance over my shoulder. They’ve removed their masks, too, exchanging dark looks.

I need to get out of here.

Haphazardly tying my mask back on, I shove out into the hallway and through the main corridor that leads along the fighting room to the front atrium. The right side of the hall is open arches, revealing the now-empty platform.

Wonder where Saint slunk off to.

If he’s smart, he’ll be holed up here until my anger runs out. Although Ithinkit’ll stay fresh as a freaking daisy until my date with Atlas has passed.

I should’ve refused and had him thrown over the cliffs.

I’m not sure where Hypnos went either. If they escorted him all the way to the edge of the property or threw him off the cliffs or simply let him walk away. That alone gives me an extra boost of adrenaline slipping out of Olympus and hurrying to my car.

Nothing bad happens. The wind tugs at my dress and mask, the ocean is ashush-shushnoise far below the rocky cliffside,and I am alone. Which is perfectly fine by me. I glance back toward the door and spot Apollo.

He lifts one hand in a wave.

I grimace and wave back.

I guess I’m nottrulyalone. My brother would never let anything bad happen to me, not if he could help it. Which makes me think this date with Atlas will not be alone.

What makes it worse is that I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this. In another lifetime, I’d call Nyx. Or, better, she would’ve been beside me to witness it. Instead, she’s six feet fucking under.

The drive home is routine. I park in the garage, in my usual spot, and take the elevator to my floor. My unit is locked, same as always, and the scrape of my key against the pins is better than any cheesy welcome mat.

And yet.

The moment I open the door, I register that Saint was not smart. He came back to the condo, and he’s seated on his regular stool at the breakfast bar. His dress shirt is unbuttoned.

His mask is on the counter, and he has a pack of peas—the same that hid the liquor just yesterday—pressed to his face. That bottle is also present, along with a single glass.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s in poor taste to drink alone?”

Saint glances at me.

Jesus. His face is really fucked up.

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