Page 207 of Bonds of Hercules
Dissonance tore through me—past and present collided—the human world was watching.
I felt woozy.
Patro lifted a silver key to the back of Achilles’s muzzle. Hand visibly shaking, he inserted it, turning, unlocking the mechanism at the back of the thick leather straps.
The stadium held its breath.
Achilles turned and grabbed Patro’s wrist midair, stopping him from pulling the muzzle fully off.
The lovers stared into each other’s eyes.
No words were spoken, but Patro’s expression fell, his handsome features full of distress for his beloved.
Achilles shook his head, stepping back.
He put space between them, the muzzle still plastered across his face.
Achilles’s posture was different—cruelerthan normal. Even from afar, his countenance was harsh.
Patro turned his head, wrenching himself violently away from Achilles, like it physically pained him to leave his side.
Staggering away, tripping over sand and wincing as blood poured from his wound, Patro looked distraught.
Achilles reached to help him, but Patro batted him away and righted himself.
Patro limped away.
Achilles watched him go—his gaze lasered on Patro’s severed tendon—eyes flashing.
Cool wetness splattered across my face.
Hisssssssss.
The network of electricity sputtered above the arena.
I tipped my head back—droplets peppered my skin—the gray sky opened up, drenching all of us in a deluge. Sparks popped in the air, but the force field held.
The gate lifted up, but Achilles was still watching Patro retreat.
Rain fell faster, pouring down Achilles’s face like tears. The muzzle was still on, and for some reason, he wasn’t removing it.
Menacing growls echoed as four Nemean wolves slunk out on the far side of the arena. Their coats were a shiny black and each of them was Nero’s size or bigger.
It was just like Patro’s round.
Nero spun and growled at the incoming threat, his teeth bared as he crouched low in the rain.
Achilles still didn’t turn around.
He was watching where Patro had disappeared.
The wolves sprinted, puddles splashing beneath their feet, as they headed straight for Achilles’s exposed back.
“What’s he doing?” Drex shouted.
The crowd screamed with warning.
Rain pounded down.
