Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(115)

Smooth liquid poured down my throat.

A switch flipped—the pain turned off; I felt nothing.

I was sitting chained to a chair with warm blood dripping down my face. My eyes were almost fully swollen shut, and I could only see out of small cracks.

Patro and Zeus were arguing.

“Someone has to know where the fuck Medusa is.” Zeus gritted his teeth. “The safety of Sparta is at stake.”

“I already told you … We’re not involved,” Patro said calmly. “Maybe you should interrogate the Olympians.”

Zeus pointed at me. “Get him out of here … Now.”

A few minutes later, I limped beside Patro, holding on to his shoulder for support. I couldn’t feel anything, but my body wasn’t cooperating—I was walking through molasses.

“Thank you,” I whispered as he led me through the underground tunnels, my voice hoarse from screaming.

Silence stretched.

“I miss … our friendship.” Patro spoke so quietly I almost missed it.

I leaned against him. “Me too.”

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice trembling. “She was ours first … ours to mentor. We were trying— We do care for her … We were trying to do what was right for—”

“Stop,” I said softly. “Don’t.”

Patro halted, and I fell against him.

He turned, holding me up, torchlight illuminating his handsome face. “Why?” he asked. “Why can’t you let it go and—”

“Because—” I coughed violently. “I … love her.”

Patro’s face fell with devastation.

“She cares … about you,” I whispered. “She’d want me … to forgive you.” I tried to open my eyes wider, to see him more clearly, but I couldn’t. “And I care about you—so much.” Tongue heavy and dry, I forced out, “I care about you. I miss you … but I can’t do this right now.”

Patro squeezed me tighter as he held me up, embracing. I rested my head on his shoulder, gasping for air.

Finally, we pulled apart and resumed staggering down the cavernous hall.

Two reluctant brothers, not of blood, but of heart.

What felt like hours later, we made it back to our individually assigned prisons. Guards were waiting for us in front of our doors.

Patro touched his forehead against mine.

We went our separate ways.

Our doors slammed shut.

“Honeys—” I coughed “—I’m home.”

I stumbled in the dark, pulling off my ruined clothes. I had a faint memory of an Olympian doctor wrapping bandages around my wounds, giving me a shot, and telling me to sleep it off.

No one answered.

Rubbing at my swollen eyes, it took a second to focus on the bed: Augustus was in the fetal position, his body blocking Alexis’s. The air smelled like sweat, like pain.

Shit, he could feel everything.

I gingerly lowered myself onto the edge of the bed. The mattress jostled and Augustus sat up, but Alexis remained sleeping.

“What?” I rasped out, not liking the expression on his face.

“Alexis—” Augustus dragged his hands over his face, twitching with the aftershocks of my pain.

“What?” I repeated, too exhausted to do anything else as I lay beside him.

“She … she … she …” Augustus was unable to finish his sentence as he stared down at her.

“She—what?”

He turned to me. “Alexis can feel our pain.”

Static filled my head.

That would mean …

No. No. No. No. No.

I’d just been tortured; she’d been tortured.

I was free-falling. Plummeting.

“Breathe!” Augustus’s voice warped above me as black spots dotted my vision. “Breathe, Kharon!”

There was a commotion as someone fell to the floor; it might have been me.

I blinked.

Augustus heaved me upright.

I blinked again.

Augustus forced my jaw open with his hands.

I inhaled air like a starving man. When I finally stopped hyperventilating, Augustus gently rested me back on the bed.

Alexis sat up, leaning over me—two-colored eyes wide with shock.

“Sorry.” My voice cracked, agony pulverizing my soul. “So … sorry. Why didn’t you … tell us?”

Soft fingers touched my cheek.

“Because—I didn’t want you to worry,” Alexis said with heartbreaking sincerity. “I’m strong … I don’t need you to take care of me—I’ve been surviving on my own for years.”

My vision blurred.

“It’s all my fault,” I whispered.

“No,” Augustus said, his hand resting on the top of my head.

Alexis wiped the moisture off my cheeks, her thumbs shaking. “No, Kharon—we’re in this together.”

I reached up, my fingers wrapping around a golden curl. “Together … forever—promise.”

She nodded, a tear spilling down her lashes. “Lacrimosa,” she said under her breath.

I smiled. “From Requiem Mass in D Minor.”

Her breath caught. “Wait … you know—”