Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
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…
My heart warms a little as I input the code and step inside. I’ve been here before, days ago during the meeting that was supposed to be a new beginning for us. In hindsight, that was incredibly naive of me. Hecate doesn’t want my vision of things. Maybe she never has.
I have a hard time believing that, though, as I walk through the rooms of the small house crouched between titan skyscrapers. Every single detail is carved into my memory even though this place didn’t exist in any true way when we lay on the grass after a long shift in the orchards, staring at the clouds overhead and dreaming of a future together.
Hecate thought I was dead and she still built it. That has to mean something. I…want it to mean something.
When I first hear footsteps, I’m half-convinced that I’m imagining things through the sheer force of the past in this place. But then Hecate herself walks through the door and stops short. Just like she did the last time we met in this place. Except, there’s no shock on her face. Only fury. “You have a lot of balls coming here after what you did.”
I refuse to feel guilt for the pain on her face. Refuse. “I did what was necessary. Peitho deserved to die, and if I didn’t plan on killing her son as well, I won’t lose sleep over it. He was a monster.”
“You stabbed Atalanta.”
I lose my battle with my emotions. Guilt prickles in my throat, uncomfortable and unexpected. “Ah. That.”
“Yes, that.” She mimics my tone perfectly, an eerie skill she’s always had. Back when we were simple workers in the countryside, she used to do impressions of our boss until I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. What innocent little fools we were.