Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(128)

“Well?” Zeus asked Patro.

“She’s telling the truth,” Patro said slowly, his voice monotone and expressionless.

Zeus punched the table, and the metal dented. “Alexis Hert—Hercules, did you in any way facilitate the escape of Medusa?”

“No.”

My bones creaked under Patro’s punishing grip, and his eyes widened for a split second.

“She’s telling the truth,” he said, the corners of his lips curling downward.

Zeus stared at both of us distrustfully. “Are you sure?” He gritted his teeth. “Remember, if you’re lying, Achilles will be incarcerated.”

Patro stared down at me. “I’m sure. She doesn’t know anything.”

I winced as he clutched me harder.

Thank you, I thought silently, emotions choking me.

“We have the closing symposium to attend to,” Zeus said as he fisted his hands like he was trying to get control of himself. “In the meantime, the guards will loosen her tongue—then … we’ll come back.”

It was a threat.

“Let’s go,” Zeus ordered.

Patro reluctantly released my arm, but he didn’t leave my side. He glanced at the guards.

The unthinkable was written all over his face.

He was about to risk everything.

For me.

“I won’t repeat myself,” Zeus said.

“Go,” I whispered.

Patro searched my face, a promise of we’ll talk about this later in his somber eyes.

He opened his mouth, like he was going to argue.

I shook my head no.

His jaw clicked shut, face twisting with pain.

I smiled sadly as he slowly backed away, out into the corridor.

“Remember—” Zeus looked back at me. “If you attempt to leap away before the interrogation is complete, it’s an act of sedition and the federation will find you guilty of conspiring with Medusa.”

“So guilty of … nothing?” I asked with disgust. “She’s innocent. We both know it.”

Patro looked deeply unsettled.

“Don’t worry,” Zeus said, not bothering to deny it. “I’ll be back.”

The metal door groaned as it lowered, blocking them both.

Crack.

Their feet disappeared as they leapt away to the symposium, smoke billowing into the crypt.

The hatch door slammed against stone.

I was once again sealed in.

But I wasn’t alone.

The half dozen guards were still inside—they raised sparking batons. One of them swung. My face exploded with agony.

Apparently, we’d reached the bludgeoning portion of tonight’s program.

It was too bad for them.

I’d had enough.

“Kill them,” I said.

Nyx hissed. “It will be my utmost pleasure.” Her scales slid off my neck as she sprang forward.

There was a loud snapping sound, then a grunt. The closest guard dropped like a rock with a bite mark on his neck.

I struggled against my binds. I’m so fucking tired of being tied up.

Fingers tingling, I pictured the rod.

Nothing happened.

I needed fresh blood.

The five remaining guards looked at each other with horrified expressions as they waved their batons at an invisible enemy.

A second dropped.

“It’s the girl!” Another baton slammed across my face, electricity scorching my skin.

Pain exploded.

I yelled out.

He stumbled back, screaming as Nyx attacked him.

There was a flurry of activity as the remaining guards focused on attacking me. Chains strained as I tried to shift in my chair and duck.

Blows rained down mercilessly. My nose crunched, blood splattering in an arc across the table.

I groaned, bright lights dancing in darkness as I struggled to stay conscious.

There was a flash of black.

Purple eyes.

Opal fangs went for the jugular.

The men screamed, pissing themselves with fear as Nyx became visible, and they understood the full extent of their doom.

“How dare you hurt her,” Nyx hissed as she reared back.

The last guards shrieked, skulls crunching around them as they clawed at the stone walls.

Nyx struck fast, a blur of death.

Gurgles of pain echoed, raspy final breaths—then silence reigned.

It was a crime scene.

The guards lay still, strewn around crushed skulls and stones, their eyes wide open, full of fear.

Nyx slithered back up around my shoulders, draping across me like a scarf. “I really needed that.” She sighed with satisfaction, her tongue flicking against my cheek.

I tipped my head back and gurgled, then leaned down and spit my blood onto my raised tingling palms.

A long glowing rod solidified in my hands.

I pulled my arm back until my hand was at the chain level—the razor-sharp point of the staff sliced through the metal like butter. I made quick work of the rest.

The chair tipped back, banging against a guard and bouncing onto the stone.

I cracked my neck with relief and stretched, wincing as the healing wounds on my side pulled, and my battered face ached unmercifully.

I dropped the rod, blood splattering across the floor in a steaming puddle.

“What’s the plan?” Nyx hissed.