Page 117 of Ruthless

The mention of the Tribunal sent ice through my veins. Tartarus awaited rogue assets. A fate worse than death.

"Vincent will never be safe," Prometheus continued, pressing his advantage. "Not as long as you're with him. Your very presence endangers him. How many more innocents need to die? How many more Michaels?"

Michael. Vincent's patient. The grief on Vincent's face when he'd seen the photo of his body. The raw pain in his eyes at the funeral.

Prometheus turned his back to me, walking calmly to the bar despite the gun trained on him. His confidence infuriated me. He poured another drink, swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully.

"You know, I had such plans for you," he said, staring into his glass. "I was grooming you to take over North America."

I blinked, momentarily thrown. "What?"

"Zeus is coming for me," he said simply, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face before he masked it. "One by one, he's eliminating anyone who questions him."

My mind raced. Zeus was real? Not just a bogeyman story to keep directors in line?

"Zeus had me arrange Apollo's disappearance in January," Prometheus continued, knocking back his drink. His hand trembled slightly as he set the glass down. "I've been consolidating power, preparing for when he comes for me next."

The pieces clicked into place. My contract on Vincent. The sudden urgency. The loyalty test.

"You were supposed to be my most loyal," Prometheus said, voice hardening. "My weapon against Zeus himself. Once I succeeded, North America would have been yours." His laugh held no humor. "Instead, you betrayed me for a therapist."

"So that's what this is about," I said, understanding dawning. "Not just a loyalty test. You were preparing for war against Zeus, and you needed to know if I'd stand with you."

"You were my contingency plan," he admitted. "My insurance policy. The one assassin who could potentially reach Zeus." His eyes locked with mine. "You still could be."

A cold smile spread across my face. "Nice try. But we both know you'd never share power. The moment Zeus was gone, you'd put a bullet in my head."

"Think about it, Luka," he pressed, desperation bleeding through. "Zeus is worse than I ever was. At least I gave you purpose. He would burn everything to the ground."

"And Ana?" I demanded. "Where does she fit into this power struggle?"

Something dark passed across his face. "Insurance of a different kind. Insurance to keep you in line, to ensure your loyalty. I've always known your greatest weakness, Luka. It's why I kept her all these years."

Red flooded my vision. "You kept my sister as a hostage for twenty-six years? To control me?"

"I protected her," he snarled. "By keeping her close, by making her my wife, I ensured she would live a good life while providing the leverage I needed." He set down his glass. "But once I'm gone, that protection vanishes. Ana becomes just another loose end to be eliminated."

My mind spun with the implications. The Pantheon's power structure, the shadow games played by directors, Zeus himself. A conspiracy that reached beyond anything I'd imagined.

"Come home, Luka," Prometheus said softly, the tone he'd used when I was a child, when I'd still thought of him as my savior. "Ana misses you. She doesn't remember you, but she senses something... familiar about you."

"You expect me to just live here?" I asked, incredulous. "To play happy families while you keep my sister as your fucking wife?"

"Language," he chided. "And no. I expect you to serve your purpose. The purpose I designed you for. After suitable reconditioning, of course."

I lowered the gun slightly. "If I come back, Vincent lives?"

Triumph gleamed in Prometheus's eyes. "You have my word."

"And Ana?"

"Will continue as she is. Happy. Protected. Loved." He stepped closer, hand extended. "Give me the gun, Luka. Come home. It's where you belong."

I stared at his outstretched hand, the same hand that had petted my hair while I shivered in drug-induced confusion in Milan. The hand that had guided me through my first kill. The hand that had shaped me, molded me, broken me.

"You know," I said conversationally, "Vincent helped me realize something important."

Prometheus raised an eyebrow, indulging me. "Oh?"

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