Radiant Sin(84)

Three black SUVs of an identical make and model to the ones behind me in the garage careen up the driveway. They screech to a halt close enough to have the Minotaur taking several quick steps back to avoid making contact with the front bumper.

Ares steps out, her gorgeous face set in forbidding lines. She’s wearing a perfectly tailored pantsuit, which would be at home in a boardroom if not for the shoulder holster clearly visible as she lifts her arm to motion the occupants of the other two vehicles forward.

I recognize one of her partners, Patroclus. He’s one of the best strategists in the city, a tall white man with short dark hair and square frame glasses who prefers jeans and T-shirts to the suits the others under Ares’s command favor. He’d been injured badly in the competition to become Ares but appears to have made a full recovery in the intervening weeks. There were rumors that Helen had a fling with Patroclus and Achilles during the tournament, but they turned the rumor mill on its head when they came out publicly as being in a polyamorous relationship a few weeks after Helen became Ares.

Zeus hadn’t been thrilled with that, but there wasn’t a single thing he could do. His sister had outplayed him. With all of Olympus salivating over her new relationship, he couldn’t afford to meddle without worrying about his already precarious reputation.

Ares makes a beeline for Minos. “You. Get out of my way.”

“With all due respect—”

She lifts her brows. She won’t thank me for making the comparison, but she’s never reminded me more of her father than in this moment while she faces down a blustering Minos and intimidates him into taking two large steps back without saying a single word. She gives him one last derisive look and turns to me. “Where is he?”

“This way.” Cassandra hasn’t move from my line of sight, and I haven’t dared leave the door unmanned, but I’m eager to get back to her side and remove her from this whole nightmare. I never would have asked her to come here if I knew things would become actually dangerous.

“Patroclus,” Ares snaps.

“I’ve got the door,” he says, and he falls in behind her, blocking Minos and his family from approaching. Two of their people stay with him and the other two follow us as we head into the garage.

“This is fucked,” Ares murmurs.

“Yes.” There’s nothing else to say. “Theseus was unconscious when I left, so hopefully he hasn’t…” My voice trails off when I see Cassandra’s face. Her lips are pressed together tightly and she’s even paler than normal. I follow her gaze to where Theseus has dragged himself up to lean against the tire of the SUV.

He gives me a bloody smile. “Too late.”

“He claimed the title by right of might,” Cassandra whispers. “With me as witness.”

“Fuck.” Ares closes her eyes for a long moment. “I don’t suppose we can kill him and pretend we found them both like this?”

I’m not one to advocate murder, but I don’t know how to explain Hephaestus getting replaced in a way that will continue to keep the assassination clause under wraps. If the rest of the city finds out how relatively easy it is to take on the title of one of the Thirteen…

“Ares.” One of her people previously guarding the door hurries up, their pale features tight. “The press are here.”

“That motherfucker.”

She turns toward the door, but I throw my arm out to stop her. “We have to clean this up. Now. It’s too late to go back, but at least we can attempt to do damage control.” I don’t know how to manage it, but this will be our only chance to get ahead of things.

She presses her fingers to her temples. “Right. I’ll face the press and send that little cockroach outside scurrying. Patroclus will help you with all this.” She casts a furious look at Theseus. “Enjoy your time as Hephaestus. It won’t last long.”

He smirks. “This title suits me better than Ares anyways.”

“Keep telling yourself that. At least I won my title honestly.”

Theseus shrugs. “I didn’t make the Olympian laws. Take it up with the founders.”

“You son of a—”

“Ares,” I cut in. “We don’t have time for this.”

She spins on her heel and stalks toward the door without another word. I take Cassandra’s elbow, steering her deeper into the garage. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.” Her voice is wrong: strained and hollow. “We witnessed a murder, Pan almost died, and you were beaten badly enough that I thought he might kill you, too. Is this what your life is like, Apollo? You hardly seemed fazed.”

I want nothing more than to whisk her away from this place, but Theseus has made sure that’s impossible. By Cassandra being his witness, he’s effectively chained her to Olympus until this is resolved. “Sometimes being one of the Thirteen means bumping up against violence and doing things I’m not proud of. I knew that when I accepted the title. I’m sorry you were drawn into this.”

“Swimming in waters deep enough to drown me,” Cassandra murmurs. She presses her fingertips to my jaw. “We really are different people.”

I hate the reminder. I hate that she’s shaking and there’s nothing I can do to go back in time and spare her from this. “I brought you here. I know apologizing doesn’t help, but I can’t seem to stop doing it.”