Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I allow Dionysus to urge me into my bedroom and watch as he closes the door softly between us. The wood is thick and sturdy, but I can still hear him raising his voice as he calls someone to demand more security and a cleanup.
If he’d asked me, I could have told him it’s no use. Two people or twenty, no numbers are high enough to stop Asterion from getting what he wants. And what he wants is me dead. There’s no stopping him.
My throat tries to close, and I swallow thickly. At least two people are dead tonight because I resisted him. His hand might have held the weapon, but it was my denial that set him on this course. My betrayal that made my father give the order for my death.
Standing by and letting more people be killed to protect me is the height of selfishness, especially when it won’t make a difference in the end.
I lie down on the luxurious bed and stare up at the dark ceiling and wait for dawn.
7
The Minotaur
The next morning, I’m at the coffee shop well ahead of time. It’s unnecessarily fancy, all chrome and stained glass. Feels like walking into a fucking church. The barista cringes when I step up to the counter. I’m used to that sort of shit. People see me coming and get the fuck out of the way. It’s what I prefer. I order two coffees and take a seat at the small round table near the back.
Exactly five minutes before nine, Ariadne walks through the door. I chose my position well. She doesn’t see me at first. It gives me a chance to drink in the sight of her. She looks like shit. I’m pretty sure she’s lost weight from stress, and the way she carries herself is brittle, as if she’s afraid that one sharp movement will shatter her. She’s wearing leggings that hug her thick thighs and wide hips and a sweatshirt that I’m slightly mollified to recognized as one of my old ones from back when we were teenagers. I doubt she remembers it was mine—she’s been wearing it for a decade—but I’ll never forget. Every time I see the faded blue fabric on her, it feels like she’s declaring my ownership.
She finally notices me and heads over to sink into the chair across from me. Her eyes are a little puffy from crying, and her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks. “Are you here to kill me?”
It’s irritating as fuck that that is her first question. As if I couldn’t have killed her last night if I wanted to.
I stare at her until she lifts her coffee mug and takes a nervous sip. Her eyes flutter closed, and she makes a surprised sound. “How did you remember my order?”
It’s not like it’s hard. She drinks the same damn thing every time she orders: a white mocha with oat milk and enough extra pumps of syrup to make my teeth ache.
But even if she hadn’t ordered it more times than I can count, it’s her favorite. It has been for years. I don’t have to understand why she likes the drink; all I need to know is that she does. Instead of answering that question, I circle back to the first one. “If I was going to kill you, I could have done it last night.”
She takes another sip, and while she doesn’t exactly light up, something seems to relax in her. “You aren’t usually one to play with your victims. I don’t understand why you made a point last night of getting close enough to fulfill my father’s order but then didn’t go through with it. I’m not sure I care at this point. I’m tired, Asterion. So freaking tired. If that’s what you’re going to do, then just do it.”
Alarm bells peal in my head at the resignation she exhibits. Where the fuck is my sunshine fighter? The one who will bend but never break? The one who survived two and a half decades under her bastard of a father’s thumb? I don’t move, but my voice is harsh when I speak. “So that’s it, then? You’re here to offer me your throat? The perfect little sacrifice.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d fight you to the bitter end. Maybe. Probably.” She takes another sip of her coffee. How the fuck is it not scalding her tongue? I have to clench my jaw to keep from telling her to slow down. Ariadne shrugs. “But you’re not anyone else, are you? You’re the Minotaur. You always get your target.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve been one of her father’s fixers since I was sixteen years old and he sent me to kill a rival. I can’t remember what the man had done to earn Minos’s wrath, but ultimately it didn’t matter. I wasn’t brought into the household to think for myself or question his orders. I was brought in to kill. “Not today.”