Page 103 of Shattered & Returned

“Quit complaining,” Dante muttered. “I gained weight, all right.”

Orren puffed out a stream of hellfire, his version ofHow the hell did you manage that with everything going on?

Our mounts surged forward into the waiting portal, a maelstrom of silver and black that shredded reality like parchment. The passage was brutal, a split-second unraveling of existence, every particle torn apart and stitched back together. Icy nothingness licked at our skin before we burst through, intact but unsettled.

Our destination loomed ahead: the Winter Palace, ancient stronghold of the Atlantean Gate Builders. Neutral ground. Where Zeus and the Moirai waited.

My thoughts circled back to my mate, to her fury when I refused to let her come. I’d been unwavering. She’d stormed off, making sure that I knew we were parting on bitter terms. Even after all the shit we’d gone through, this version of her could still drag a smirk from me. She had no idea how turned on I was when she was incredibly mad.

But this wasn’t about provoking her. Every move I made had purpose. Forsaken Academy wasn’t built on a whim—it mirrored a corner of the Underworld, the place where she’d once learned to love me despite her hate. Even the act of kidnapping her had been calculated, a way to jog her memories.

When we first met, lifetimes ago, I’d played the same game by pushing her to the edge of pleasure, then denying her, stoking that hunger until it became something deeper. It was easier to steal a woman who craved you than one who despised you.

So I repeated the steps, hoping she’d remember. Praying she’d recognize this dance of ours.

The Winter Palace loomed before us as we touched down in its courtyard, our second time using Atlantean hospitality. Its spires rose like a frozen dream. The walls, carved from eternal frost, somehow radiated warmth, which was typical Atlantean paradox architecture.

Only my brother would insist on splendor for what amounted to a diplomatic ambush.

An Atlantean priest descended the palace steps, his skin shimmering blue-silver, mercury eyes unreadable. His robes flowed, frost clinging to the seams. Prophetic constellations shifted across his forehead and temples, their meaning lost to anyone but his kind.

“Lord Hades,” he intoned. “King Zeus awaits in the throne room.”

What a pompous ass. Even squatting in another realm’s palace, Zeus couldn’t resist perching on a borrowed throne. The Atlanteans had cleared out entirely, and only this priest remained, another pawn in my brother’s games.

I dismounted, dismissing Belladonna with a touch. Dante slid off Orren, who stayed in hellhound form, molten breath curling between his dripping fangs.

“Tell Zeus he has one minute to meet me here,” I said. “After that, I’m gone.”

Zeus materialized at the top of the marble stairs as my words left my lips. Time hadn’t touched him. His skin glowed with stolen sunlight, his body the same perfection.

His golden hair flowed down to his shoulders, with strands of silver in the middle signifying his lightning power. He wore armor of the most radiant gold with the ridiculous silver cape draped behind reaching the floor, lightning occasionally crackling across its surface.

“Brother,” he drawled, flashing a self-important smile. “Still impatient. Still vulgar. Try not to embarrass yourself this time.”

His guards made exaggerated shows of disdain, nostrils flaring like I was some lingering stench.

“Where are the Fates?” I demanded. “You dragged me here for negotiations. Let’s get this over with.”

The Moirai—Clotho with her endless spinning, Lachesis with her merciless measuring, Atropos with her shears to cut the thread—held centuries of grudges against me because I’d refused to bow to their whims.

Zeus stroked his goatee with false contemplation. “They’re…delayed.”

“Delayed?” I snapped, my teeth bared. “What, are they picking out fucking ribbons for their hair? I didn’t come hereto watch them primp.” I turned sharply, already reaching for Belladonna’s summoning.

Zeus clucked his tongue. “All fire and fury, brother. You really should consider meditation. Or perhaps a nice vacation.” His smile widened like a shark’s. “After all, we’re gods. What’s a few more centuries to us?”

Every word was a needle pressed into raw nerves. He knew damn well I didn’t have the luxury of time. My mate had months. Weeks. Heartbeats. Even now, hunters could be closing in on her at the academy while we stood here trading stupid barbs. The fear for her safety sat in my chest like a truck, crushing the air from my lungs.

I was the god of death, yet death kept stealing her from me. Cycle after cycle. The only one who could break it was Bloom herself, if she remembered. And for that, I needed time. I needed to buy her time. That’s why I’d walked into this obvious trap. Desperation makes fools of even the oldest gods, and Zeus knew it well and used it against me.

“If you leave now,” Zeus mused, “this little trip will have been quite pointless. Come, share some tea while we wait. I hear you’ve given up drinking.”

I fumed. “Even the strongest alcohol has no effect on me. And no amount of liquor can numb this.”

“How tragic,” he sighed, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“We’ll map out these new terms over drinks while waiting for the Moirai to show up,” I said. Standing here facing Zeus for hours, waiting for the three sisters of Fate, would make me look like a fool. “They can nod at the deal once they’re done with whatever shit they’re doing and get their asses here.”

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