Page 63 of Ruthless

"Lorenzo." His voice was surprisingly soft, with an accent I couldn't place. "You said it was important."

"It is." Lo gestured toward us. "This is Luka and Dr. Matthews. The ones I—"

"I know who they are." Jasper flicked ash onto the concrete floor. "Prometheus's favorite attack dog. Until recently."

My spine stiffened at his dismissive tone. Vincent's hand pressed gently against my lower back, a silent reminder to stay calm.

"I'm no one's dog," I replied evenly.

"Everyone in The Pantheon is someone's dog. Some just have longer leashes than others."

Diego moved to a small refrigerator, extracting beers. "Let's talk business, yes? Before my dark prince here sends everyone into therapy with his brooding intensity."

He hopped onto a nearby workbench, legs swinging like an excited kid, his eyes constantly returning to Jasper. The look was unmistakable—pure adoration mingled with something deeper. Diego had it bad for the mysterious stranger.

I didn't miss the way Jasper's gaze lingered on Vincent. My hand instinctively settled at the small of Vincent's back, marking territory. Mine.

Jasper snorted, unimpressed. “Why am I here, Lorenzo?”

"Luka needs help," Lo explained. "Transport to a funeral. Something discreet. Something The Pantheon won't see coming."

"It's a trap," I clarified. "Set by Prometheus. He's killing the people Vincent cares about. One by one."

Jasper's eyes lingered on Vincent. I stepped closer to him, my shoulder angling in front of his chest. A clear message: Back off.

"Why should I help you?" Jasper demanded.

"Aw, come on, Jasper. Don’t be like that!” Diego said.

Jasper huffed. “Very well. The enemy of my enemy is useful, if not quite a friend."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

Jasper moved closer. "It means our interests align. For now. We share a target. Prometheus.”

As his blue eyes held mine, I suddenly realized something that made my blood run cold. The intensity of his gaze, the calculated precision of his movements, the way he projected power without effort… It was all eerily familiar. I’d seen his picture before. Once upon a time, it had been plastered all over the Pantheon news.

"You’re him," I said, the pieces clicking into place. "Hephaestus."

Jasper's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. "Hephaestus is dead."

Lo's hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing in warning. "Identities are fluid in our world, Luka."

The silence stretched taut, electric with unspoken threats. Vincent's hand remained steady in mine, a silent anchor amidst the dangerous currents swirling around us.

Jasper considered me for another long moment, then nodded. "Who I am and who I am not doesn’t matter. You came here seeking help and I believe we can help each other. After all, you would rather have me as an ally than an enemy, da?”

He extended his hand. After a brief hesitation, I shook it. His grip was firm, precise. Professional.

"So," Diego clapped his hands together. "Now that we're all friends, let's discuss details. I can arrange transportation. Bulletproof. Two car changes. Enough guns to make you Americans proud. I’ve already worked out routes. But my assistance doesn’t come cheap. And I don’t take Pantheon currency."

I snorted. “I can pay. Just send me the details.”

Diego grinned and clapped me on the back. "Excellent! Now, for the specifics—"

"There's something else you should know about Prometheus," Jasper interrupted, his pale eyes fixed on me.

The room went still. Even Diego's perpetual enthusiasm dimmed as he cast a wary glance at his partner.

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