Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(22)

“Stop with the games!” I waved my gun.

“Grow up—Alex,” he sneered. The cruel man who’d tormented me was back. “There’s a lot at stake. Stop pretending you don’t feel it too.”

Wait? Feel what?

I fired, but he’d disappeared.

Time dragged on as I ran through the course.

Two rows of buildings, in what appeared to be a movie set, towered around me.

I walked the path between them, scanning the darkness.

White flashed.

A large shadow sat atop a building.

I pointed my gun at it.

Achilles kneeled on top of a structure, the first one in a row of ten. His burning eyes smoldered as he stared down at me silently—the muzzle obscured his features. A sharp dagger glinted in his hand.

I fired.

He leapt impossibly fast, crouching on a roof three buildings down.

I pulled the trigger as quickly as I could.

Achilles stood on top of the tenth building, hair escaping his man bun as he slowly shook his head like he was disappointed.

Annoyed and exhausted, I lifted my middle finger.

He lifted a square device, pressed a button—the building next to me exploded in flames.

Concrete chunks flew everywhere.

I was flung back.

Blinking into awareness, I slowly took in my surroundings.

My left ear was ringing painfully, and I was lying on the path under a pile of—I picked up a slab of the building and brought it close to my right eye—Styrofoam painted to look like concrete.

Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet and kicked the material away. Little white pieces drifted in the air around me like snow.

Heat warmed my face—the rest of the buildings were on fire.

A muzzle filled my vision.

I screamed.

Achilles loomed before me.

He cracked his neck like he was preparing to attack; Patro’s name was tattooed down it.

Is he mad that Patro keeps talking to me? Everyone knew how possessive he was.

I stepped back, terror clawing at my lungs.

Achilles took a step forward.

Smoke billowed around him, the scent of fire and ash filling my nose.

He’s going to attack me. No one’s ever going to find my body.

Titan screams echoed over the speakers and another building exploded in a spray of Styrofoam and fire.

I turned and ran for my life.

An indeterminate amount of time later, I leaned against a metal pole in the fake forest and panted.

I couldn’t hit any of the Chthonics. They were too fast.

Metal scraped.

I whirled around.

A white mask stood a foot away.

“Do you need water?” Augustus asked, his long black and white hair blowing in the fog, voice drifting in and out as my ear rang. “Are you feeling, okay? Please, let me know if you need—”

What a thoughtful, nice man.

I fired at his face.

Not.

Augustus moved in a flash.

He was gone.

Groaning, I resumed jogging around the course.

Heaving for air, vision blurry, lungs aching from exertion, I stared down at my gun and turned it so the gold WSDL flashed: War, Sex, Death, Lies.

“Make them fear you, daughter.” Hades frowned down at me. “No one fears the weak.”

These people were highly competent monsters.

Unlike them, I’d never been particularly adept at physical fitness. I was good at calculating obscure mathematical problems and writing scintillating (inappropriate) fan fiction. I was a true Renaissance woman.

Gunshots echoed.

A tall figure jumped down from above and landed silently in front of me.

Skeleton-tattooed fingers raised a knife.

It was pointed directly at my heart.

“It’s like you’re not even trying, carissima,” Kharon drawled, his tone cruel.

My gun clattered to the ground.

Kharon grunted with surprise as he clutched at his stomach.

“You’re supposed to shoot it—not throw it at me, darling.” His eyes went cold. “Pick it up.”

I raised my chin. “No.”

Kharon held himself unnaturally still. “You have three seconds to pick up your weapon and apply yourself to the simulation that I spent hours creating just for you, or else …”

I scoffed.

“Three.” His voice vibrated with violence.

Does he have a counting kink or something?

“Two.”

My breath caught and I pressed my thighs together.

Wait … Do I?

I raised my arm up, opening my hand like a puppet. “One,” I said, before he could, chuckling at my joke.

Icy fingers wrapped around my throat—he pushed me back until I was pressed against rough metal. He wasn’t laughing.

Kharon squeezed the delicate pulse points of my neck as he held me against a fake tree.

In slow motion, his masked face moved to eye level.

He pressed harder and cut off oxygen to my brain.

Foreign thoughts filtered through my head, a mix of emotions and images in a confusing jumble.

Mine. She’s mine. Need to claim her. Control her. Possess her. Own her. Destroy her. Taste her cunt. Tie her to me. Protect her. Punish her. Need to watch her submit to Augustus. Devour her.

Scarlet-filled eyes contrasted with the white of his mask.