Shattered Gods (Dark Olympus, #10)(35)

Nerissa’s face blossoms in my mind, the bruise marring her pretty features. If Antigone tries to follow Apollo too close to the bridge, if Hades’s people take advantage of her proximity, if she’s hurt… Something in my chest pangs, sending disruptive vibrations through my hard-won numbness. I can’t lose her. “Leave them.”

“What?”

I don’t tell her the true reason I’m calling her off. She’s at my side because I’m the strongest, most ruthless bitch she’s ever met. If she perceives even a hint of weakness, her faith in me—in my orders—will falter. Even if that weakness is spawned from caring for her. I clear my throat and think quickly. “I have a plan. We need to buy some time while the lower city team locates the machinery to bring down the barrier. Let them think they’re safe. For now.”

“But—”

“Leave it, Antigone.”

For a moment, I think—I fear—she won’t obey. But she curses and the distant sounds of pursuit fade. I don’t allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief—not when she’d hear it. “See to the remaining legacy families and then return here. We have a party to plan.”

“A party.”

I force a smile because I know she’ll hear it in my voice. “Yes. Right on Juniper Bridge where the lower city has the best view of the events.” With so many of our targets hiding behind the barrier, we only have two options: bring the barrier down or draw them out. The former will happen one way or another, but every day that stretches without my team finding the machinery to make it happen is a day where the citizens of Olympus grow more impatient. We need to feed the beast.

Antigone sighs. “You always have your plans upon plans, don’t you?”

“Always, darling. See you soon.” I hang up and let my smile fade. I make my way back to the room in silence and shut the door softly behind me.

Only then do I let my shoulders drop and lean my head against the thin wood. I knew this wouldn’t be easy once I realized exactly who held the Hermes title. No matter how I hated her for going back on our shared beliefs, for moving on without me, I will always love Hecate.

She’s making it increasingly difficult to keep her safe. She’s always had an honorable streak a mile wide, though she’d argue whenever I bothered to point it out. Hecate is so certain that ruthlessness counters honor. Maybe she’s right. It certainly feels like I’ve lost part of myself somewhere along the way.

I take a deep breath. No matter. The girl I was when Zeus snatched me off the street is as dead as he believed her to be. I need…

I need to get out of here, if only for a little while. The thought has barely registered before I’m moving to the vanity where I have several clothing options in a bag. I change quickly, trading my bloody sweater and leggings for jeans and a dark hoodie. Boots complete the reversal, the change from Circe, leader to be watched at every moment, to just a woman out and about. I slide my gun into my holster and two knives into ankle sheaths, which is all the protection I’ll need.

Little do the Thirteen know, but I’ve been moving freely about their city for weeks without notice. It doesn’t require a skilled hacker to cover my tracks, though we have several on staff. I simply need to pull up my hood, hunch my shoulders a little, and change the cadence of my steps. Just like that, I’m practically invisible.

Dodging my own people as I leave the university is probably unnecessary, but I need time to think, and I can’t do that with an entourage of security in tow.

It’s only when I’m a block away, sure of my escape, that I take my first full breath in days. Leadership isn’t for the weak, but some days, the toll feels higher than I can bear. Only the knowledge of how many victims in waiting I’m saving keeps me going. I’m not foolish enough to believe I can remove every predator from Olympus, but I can certainly ensure there will never be another Hera who is cut down by their husband without consequence.

And I want revenge. I’m not a fucking saint, after all. I want blood to run just like my blood ran from Zeus’s abuses.

There are dozens of people moving about in small packs of three or four, intense looks on their faces. Hunting. Prickles sweep over my skin in waves, though not even I can tell if it’s in warning or pleasure over seeing the consequences of my plans in action. No member of the Thirteen or the popular legacy families will be safe on the streets tonight.

I pull out my burner phone and flip through MuseWatch, reading the headlines with satisfaction.

Former Aphrodite executed for her crimes against Circe and other Olympians!



Eros Ambrosia linked to no less than six deaths over the years, possibly more!



Where are the Thirteen?



Olympus has fallen…and we’re not mad about it?



In their determination to have something to print, and to do it as quickly as possible, they’re actively working for me. The people of Olympus wouldn’t idolize the Thirteen and the legacy families if not for MuseWatch deifying them. The gossip site gets scoffed at by the very citizens who drink up its content, allowing it to affect their perspectives.

I don’t have a set destination in mind, but I’m not remotely surprised when my path takes me to a wrought-iron gate leading to a courtyard filled with unseasonable greenery. Fake plants. I smile a little despite everything. Hecate always was one for the dramatic when it suited her. Their comfort is as false as the faith this city held in its barriers, and yet…