Page 187 of Bonds of Hercules
My vision flickered in and out, anxiety mounting with an intensity that even ambrosia couldn’t mask.
The headline read: “Zeus and Federation announce their plan to interrogate younger Chthonics after their rounds.” The picture was of Medusa.
Hades snatched up the scroll and slammed it shut.
His worried gaze met mine.
Persephone huffed and pushed her chair back. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have a reporter to threaten.” She smiled at me, her expression serene. “Don’t worry—I’ll handle this.”
I tried to smile back, but my face didn’t cooperate.
How can she be so calm?
I wished I had a tenth of her composure.
She walked around the table to me and leaned down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “It’s all going to be okay, daughter. Stay calm—never let the Olympians see you sweat.”
I nodded jerkily.
“We’re in thistogether,” she said softly.
My vision blurred over.
She was everything my childhood self had ever dreamed about.
Persephone straightened. “Kharon, Augustus.” She glared daggers at them. “Treat my daughter right.” It wasn’t a question.
Augustus bowed his head respectfully. “Of course.”
“I’d die for Alexis,” Kharon said calmly, and Hades raised his glass to him, looking relieved. I’d forgotten he was my father’s favorite soldier.
Persephone didn’t look impressed.
As my mother disappeared into the crowd, my thoughts raced. There was nothing she could do. This was bigger than all of us. We both knew it.
The danger had reached a tipping point.
The consequences had arrived.
34
THE BATTLES WE WAGE
ALEXIS: SGC DAY3
Sparta cheered thunderously.
Sitting between Kharon and Augustus, with my buzzing hands clasped tightly between my legs, I prayed to a god who probably despised me.
Far below, the arena was full of inky fog, so thick and dense, it looked as if black tar had been poured over the sand.
Hades—myfather—stood tall in the middle, his pale hands held high above his head, blood glowing in his eyes.
There was nothing survivable about what was flowing out of Hades. It was a thick vicious flood of death.
Apparently, he’d gone easy on us in the initiation massacre.
The Cyclopes’ screams echoed, but they were barely visible in the dark fog. They were nothing but glimpses of hands tearing at skin, of flesh collapsing onto sand, of single eyes wide and terrified.
