Page 163 of Bonds of Hercules
I jerked with shock.
What?
Kharon smirked—he appeared completely impervious to the Olympians’ judgment—but I could feel the pain radiating up his leg in hot waves.
An image of a younger him, defeated, crawling through the sand away from monsters, flashed inside my mind.
He deserved so much better.
The dice rolled. “One round … three labors,” Zeus said, his frustration evident.
There was a smattering of nervous applause.
Kharon stalked back toward me with piercing pain streaking up his leg and his tattered shirt fluttering.
When he made it back, he buried his shaking hand at the base of my head, fingers tangling roughly in my curls as he breathed deeply to steady himself.
“Fuck the Olympians,” he whispered.
I nodded. “Screwall of them.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
Augustus’s name was called and he casually untucked his shirt and undid the buttons as he walked forward with a pleasant, calm expression.
His posture was relaxed.
He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Revelations—” Zeus shouted. “Zero defeats.”
Sparta cheered loudly.
People stood up and clapped as they chanted his name.
The Olympian leaders smiled at Augustus as he spun lazily in a circle, showcasing the unblemished tan skin of his chiseled chest.
He wasn’t just the Chthonic golden boy—everyoneloved him.
Augustus’s black, soul-consuming eyes locked on mine as he turned, and they radiated danger.
How did he deceive them all into thinking this version of him is real?The hostile, depraved glint in his eyes was unmistakable.
Couldn’t they see it was all an act?
Zeus stared down at the altar. “Two rounds—six labors!” The crowd cheered louder.
I felt sick.
Augustus sauntered back over to us, his expression affable. The shirt hanging open revealing the deep grooves of his Adonis belt was slightly distracting.
I blushed as his hand settled on my lower back, fingers splaying possessively.
“Our last competitor,” Zeus announced with a smirk.
“Hercules!” Fate called.
Once again, the crowd fell silent.
