From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(55)

Perry let her breathe, let her think, let her speak.

“Our bond is beyond my control. We’re connected, but I don’t want to be connected to him. I don’t want him to have power over me. But he does. He always will. And I have no control over my life.”

Her eyes were sad, but her voice was determined. “You can’t control him, but you can control you. The only power he has over you is your fear.”

“And I’m just supposed to stop being afraid?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“I seriously can’t even fathom how to do that.” Dita looked away.

“Sleep would help.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Maybe Heff could make you some god mace.”

Dita laughed at the thought. “That would be so convenient, but it would only work on Filmore Dickerson if it had egocide in it.”

Perry giggled. “Feel any better?”

“A little,” Dita admitted.

The silence stretched out.

“It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

“I want to believe that.”

Perry reached for her hand, and they wound their fingers together. “It will. You’ll get through it, and I’ll be here beside you. Okay?”

Tears welled up in Dita’s eyes. “Can we not fight again?”

“Deal. Can you please not lie to me again?”

“Deal,” Dita agreed and squeezed her hand.



Artemis ducked under a branch as Calix cut around a tree.

She braced herself as he bounded over a log and bolted out of the tree line, the sun hitting her like a wall. Hills rolled around her in lazy swells, carpeted in green grass, with cypress trees lining the ridges, stretching up to the sky like spears. The rhythm of Calix’s body under her as he galloped across the open field comforted her, a natural metronome to her thoughts.

The moment Jon and Josie had parted ways, Artemis had taken off with Calix and had been riding ever since.

Jon was persistent, so persistent that Artemis was losing faith that Josie would stand her ground. If he continued making declarations as he had, Josie wouldn’t last long. Artemis could sense her losing her resolve.

The feeling left Artemis uneasy.

Josie was still angry, of course, but not angry enough. And, now that Jon had information on Rhodes, he really could help her.

But Jon had to be stopped. If Josie agreed and the players ended up working together, the result would be a disaster for Artemis.

Artemis dug in her heels, shouting H’ya! through her teeth.

If she lost so early in the competition, she would never, ever live it down.

As much as she didn’t want to believe that Josie could ever forgive Jon, each day that had passed only proved one glaring, unavoidable truth—Jon would move mountains for her. He knew he was wrong and had been trying to do right by her, pay penance. Artemis had been so focused on Josie that she found she didn’t know Jon at all, and the more she learned, the sicker she felt.

He wasn’t the villain she’d thought him to be.

Worse, she’d played right into Aphrodite’s hand.

Calix reached the river, and they turned to run up the bank as she heard the voices of Apollo and Eleni in her mind, telling her how little she knew.

Was she truly so oblivious to human nature? Had she removed herself so far from Earth and for so long that she had forgotten?

Had she ever really known?

She leaned back. “Whoa. Whoa there.”

Calix slowed to a trot and stopped under an olive tree whose branches stretched out over the river. She dismounted and ran her hand down his neck as he drank.

Artemis sensed a shift coming, and there was only one thing to do, only one play to make.

Her only chance was to get Josie away from Jon. If she sent Rhodes on the run, Josie would chase him, and Artemis could guide her, help her find him. Help heal the wound by bringing justice to Anne, Hannah, and all the girls he’d killed. She could do all of that and keep Jon and Josie apart. And if she could keep them apart, she would win.

Human nature.

She had to consider Jon and how he would react. He would try to help, want to help. But as long as Josie believed she had things handled, she wouldn’t accept his offer.

Artemis looked in on Josie as she lay on her couch, staring a hole through her wall of evidence and the avalanche of paper and photos and facts that her life had become.

“Now,” she whispered.





Josie popped another Cheez-It into her mouth with Ricochet on her stomach as she stared at the wall like she had a hundred times before, scrutinizing the papers and photos, looking for anything new. The thought that there was anything she’d missed was ridiculous in itself. She had memorized every word and image, and the pictures lived in her dreams.

But what else could she do? Until she had more, like an ID from one of the girls or a slipup by Rhodes, she was at a dead stop.

Out of nowhere, Ricochet took off. His claws dug into the soft skin of her stomach as he leapt onto the coffee table and toward her bedroom, toppling a glass of water that smashed as it hit the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck, Rick? Jesus.” Josie stepped around the glass with her eyes on the carpet and made her way into the kitchen where she grabbed a towel and the trash can.

Ricochet growled and mewled at the window in her bedroom.