Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore Book 1)
Blood of Hercules: Chapter 17

Alexis

“Remember—do not approach an animal, unless it approaches you,” General Cleandro said as he led the seven of us that were left deeper under the mountain, down the winding rock stairs. “There are ancient beasts in the menagerie that will maul you if they feel threatened.”

Thank God.

Approach all the animals until one puts me out of my misery—got it.

General Cleandro walked faster into the dark hall. “These are not your normal animals,” he said ominously. “They are carefully bred predators with creature ancestry—but . . . just because they are distantly related to sentient beings . . . does not mean they have intelligence.”

So the animals were stupid but powerful.

They sound like most Spartans.

The general picked up his pace like he was trying to lose us in the cramped tunnel, which would have been funny if I wasn’t one of the idiots trying to follow him.

“If an animal attacks you,” he said ominously, “you have the right to defend yourself or exact vengeance, but no one else can interfere.”

That’s concerning.

It had been about a week and a half since I’d returned to the Spartan War Academy, and shockingly, my will to live was nonexistent.

Hours of lectures had melted my brain. Not being able to nap during breaks because I was tutoring Drex also didn’t help.

The lack of food, water, fresh air, and basic human (Spartan?) rights were not ideal.

The fact that the only toilet was so rusty I’d scraped my butt cheek on it this morning was my final straw.

Yes, I’d had a moment back at Corfu where I’d decided to think positive thoughts and live better. Unfortunately, I was a quitter and had already given up.

I’d accepted the truth—I am not meant to live well.

Now I stumbled forward exhaustedly, teeth chattering, bare feet squelching as cuts opened on my raw soles.

Someone’s stomach rumbled loudly, and a groan of despair echoed. Lately the other initiates had started complaining more and more that they were starving.

It was annoying.

Don’t they know the more you talk about it, the worse it feels?

I shoved gnawing hunger out of my mind and concentrated on not tripping.

The narrow path had darkened, and it was almost pitch black. Stalactites hung low and dripped water from the rock ceiling.

Drex walked behind me and mumbled about how if the tunnel narrowed any more, we’d get stuck—I’m praying for that.

Anything was better than sitting through another one of Augustus’s D and P lectures.

Apparently, clearing my mind until a sense of peace (from a nonexistent light source shining on the top of my head) settled over me was not one of my strong suits.

I guess I’m not perfect after all.

General Cleandro came to a sudden stop, and shoulders jostled as we ran into one another.

“Everyone be quiet,” the general whispered harshly. “There is a beast that will maul you to death inside the menagerie if you make a loud noise.”

Thank God.

He pushed open a heavy bronze door concealed in the rock wall of the corridor.

“You’re on your own from here,” he said. “Spartans with protectors are not allowed to enter. I’ll open the door to let you out in three hours sharp. Good luck.”

No one moved.

To be fair, only an idiot would voluntarily go inside.

“Move your sorry asses right now,” the general whispered harshly. “Or you’ll run the circuit until your dicks fall off.”

I pursed my lips. So would that affect a vagina as well or was it just a⁠—

The general grabbed the front of my tunic, lifted me off the ground, and chucked me inside.

Does that mean I’m his favorite?

Ears ringing, I lay for a long moment on—grass that was . . . warm?

Bright light burned, leaves rustled, and birds chirped above.

With wide eyes, I sat up, mouth open.

I was lying on a path in a forest of flowering trees.

Far off in the distance, there were rolling green hills and a glittering blue lake.

There was a giant hole at the top of the mountain, and sunlight streamed through.

The nature was inside the mountain.

It was magical.

Birds with long purple tails and yellow puffs on their heads spiraled lazily above in the pleasant air. Red monkey-like creatures hooted at each other as they raced atop the pink-covered tree branches.

The lake sparkled, and elk-like creatures with strange horns grazed on its banks. A creature with tentacles and a beak slithered out of the water and disappeared into the tall grasses.

Initiates entered and wandered in all directions, heads tipped back and mouths open.

A paradise in the middle of hell.

Smiling, feeling like Eve, I ambled to my feet. There was a low hair-raising growl to my right.

I froze.

A sleek orange cheetah-esque creature with fangs as long as my forearm crouched low and growled, muscles bunched, ready to pounce.

I looked around—it was just the two of us.

“Good kitty,” I whispered.

Dagger-like nails exploded from paws, and it hacked violently.

“Bad kitty?”

It snapped its wicked fangs three times, then turned and sprinted off into the forest.

“Wow,” Nyx hissed on my neck. “That cat really hated you.”

Jumping, I clutched my heart. “Or maybe she was growling at you.”

“Please,” Nyx scoffed like the idea was preposterous. “She gave me a nod of respect, before she told you to get lost or she’d eat your spine.”

“Wait”—I narrowed my eyes—“can you speak cheetah-thing?”

“No, I ad-libbed.”

Rolling my eyes, I pulled at her. “Okay, well she was probably threatened by your poisonous self, so get off me and slither around. Be free, birdy.”

I tried to throw Nyx into the air, but she wrapped around my arm like a vise.

“Ow, that hurts.” I yelped, grateful the rest of the initiates were off exploring so they wouldn’t have to watch me fight my invisible frenemy.

“Well, it hurts my feelings that you were going to throw me into the air like a common pigeon,” Nyx hissed as she refused to let go.

Grunting, I used my other hand to try to dislodge her from my forearm.

“Just meet me back here in a few hours,” I suggested like a reasonable adult.

She tightened until my hand turned purple. I lay on my back and used both feet.

“Fine,” she hissed and loosened her death grip. “You clearly don’t respect me. I’m going to go maul a rabbit.”

She slithered away, long grasses parting around her invisible body.

“Don’t try to gaslight me,” I whisper-yelled after her. “You treat me like a horse that you can ride whenever you want. Also, leave the nice bunnies alone.”

“I bet that cheetah monster needs a friend,” Nyx called back.

“You resemble an obese slug.”

“Your hair is greasy and frizzy.”

I gasped and clutched at my bushy ponytail. She did not go there. She knew they didn’t let us shower.

With narrowed eyes, I pointed at the tree she’d headed toward. “Listen here, you⁠—”

“Uh?” Drex asked. “Are you arguing with a tree?”

I whirled around and put my finger down.

“No?”

Drex grimaced. “I understand. This place can really make you”—he rolled his finger next to his ear—“lose it.” A miniature horse (with fangs) galloped by. “Talk later.” He sprinted after it.

Sighing, I stomped off down the path, waiting for a cute fluffy animal to come love me.

I wouldn’t mind a raccoon.

A big dog could also be cool.

A falcon (government surveillance drone) with glowing purple eyes and a long silver tail perched on the top of a tree and screeched down at me angrily.

Then it spread its wings, which were wider than I was tall, and flew away. Robot design is really getting out of control.

As I walked through the forest, all sorts of (alleged) birds bobbed their heads angrily, then took flight.

Apparently, I was the opposite of a princess—creatures absolutely loathed me.

Nice.

Not upsetting at all.

A deer with wings stood on the tree-lined path, eating berries off a bush. Pink eyes flashed, and it sprinted away in a blur. Did it just do a double take?

The bizarre behavior continued as I walked through the forest.

Whenever I came across another initiate hanging out with peaceful animals, those same animals saw me and panicked, sprinting in every direction to get away.

After an hour of being a pariah of Mother Nature, I collapsed onto the short grass at the edge of the lake.

I’d thought Nero and Poppae hated me because their owners did.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

It felt like I was the reason.

Water splashed as an alligator (a T. rex?) with ten-foot spikes waddled out onto the bank, saw me, turned around, and swam away frantically.

Moisture burned my eyes.

Why are the animals acting like I’m some terrifying monster?

Apparently, I was hard to love.

Purple bees buzzed, and neon-blue butterflies fluttered about.

“Do you want to be my protector?” I whispered pathetically at a chunky bee who could barely hold its round body aloft.

It gave up trying and spiraled to the ground.

Relatable.

A butterfly landed on the end of my nose, and a round beetle, with pretty pink markings and long pincers, settled on top of my hand.

At least the insects like me.

The beetle bit me. Hard.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, screams echoing, I sat up and looked around wildly, worried I’d triggered the monster the general had warned us about.

There was a beat of silence, then a hair-chilling growl.

My heart plummeted.

Great, Alexis, now you’ve done it. You’re unlovable AND dead.

“Nyx,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. You don’t look like a slug, only when you eat and your belly gets all big. I love you and hope you live an amazing life.”

The dangerous sound repeated closer, and the birds perched along the far riverbank took to the air.

I sat frozen.

Tall grasses rustled to my right, and I squinted.

Panic filled my throat.

A small white dog sat defenseless between the stalks, with its floppy ears perked up. Run away, little guy before the beast gets you.

The tiny creature opened its mouth, flashing sharp fangs much too big for its mouth, and let out a ferocious growl. Never mind, you are the beast.

I slumped with relief.

Its eyes narrowed, and it crouched low.

“Come here . . . you . . . thing?” I whisper-called, not wanting to upset the poor creature.

While the other animals in the menagerie wore their unique characteristics in a sleek, impressive way, this—dog?—looked like it had been through rough times.

Since I’d also been going through it recently, I tried not to judge.

Clumps of misshapen white fur protruded from its shoulders and butt, and its overgrown fangs jabbed the sides of its muzzle. Its paws looked ten sizes too large for its tiny body.

It looked almost like a husky puppy—if you squinted and ignored the jagged teeth, bulges of fur, glowing purple eyes, and terrifying growl.

“What’s your name?” I whispered.

It snapped its misshapen fangs at the plants and shook violently.

“Good job killing that dandelion.”

In a demonstration of pure hunting prowess, it pounced on another unsuspecting flower and bit savagely.

Fuzzy white seeds floated in a cloud.

I scooted forward with my hand out.

It took a step back and let out a low warning growl.

With my hands in the air to show I meant no harm, I lay back down.

Content that I wasn’t a threat, the puppy resumed hunting (mutilating) the plant population.

Every few seconds, purple eyes looked in my direction, like it wanted to make sure I hadn’t moved.

Long minutes passed, and it didn’t leave my vicinity. At one point, it rolled onto its back. It was a boy puppy-thing.

“I’m gonna call you Fluffy Jr.,” I told him.

Either he identified as something else, or he hated the name, because he walked closer and puked. The fact that it was mostly twigs seemed concerning.

Slowly, I got to my feet.

Fluffy Jr. hunched low and snarled up at me, but the effect was ruined because his head didn’t clear the grasses, or my ankles. I was 50 percent sure I could take him.

He wiggled his misshapen body and snapped at my feet (okay, 49 percent).

“What do you want me to do?” I asked and pointed at the mess of twigs he’d regurgitated. “You did this to yourself.”

He hunched low.

I walked away.

“Ohmygod.” I turned back as I entered the forest. “Are you hunting me?”

Fluffy Jr.’s ears flopped forward, and he stared at me without moving. Purple eyes glowed brightly.

He resumed growling.

“You’re so smart and strong,” I praised, because everyone needs positive reinforcement, as I resumed walking (shuffling forward at a snail’s pace because he kept stopping and getting distracted by leaves).

As I cut through the forest, most of the other initiates were spread out in the trees, whispering to animals.

Titus narrowed his eyes at me, but looked away when I raised my eyebrow. He’d been subdued ever since last week’s library altercation.

If I’d known all it would take was kneeing him in the crace (crotch, then face), I would have done it ages ago.

“I think the birds really like me,” Drex said when I came upon him sitting on an ivy-covered stump. A gold toucan with long silver talons sat on a branch above his head, singing a pretty song.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Oh.” I pointed behind me where Fluffy Jr. was trying (failing) to catch a butterfly. “This p-puppy is stalking me.”

Drex did a double take. “Are you sure that’s a puppy? What’s wrong with its fur, and why is it so—lumpy?”

God forbid someone be built a little different during an apocalypse.

Everyone was a critic these days.

We lived in dark times.

“Don’t hurt his feelings,” I said. “He’s just . . . unique.”

The toucan stopped singing and started screeching, which felt like a metaphor for my life.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I whispered to Drex as I backed away slowly so I wouldn’t ruin his bird (robot) bonding time.

Back near the door, the forest thinned and there were no animals for me to disturb with my apparently terrifying presence.

Fluffy Jr. still followed me, this time with a twig in his mouth. (He was holding it by the end, and it seemed to be half down his throat, choking him?)

“Nyx?” I whispered. “Where are you? I take it all back.”

“Do you want me to bite that thing and put it out of its misery?” she asked as she slithered up my body and settled like a scarf.

Grinning, I petted her warm scales. Being snubbed by the rest of the animal kingdom had given me a new level of affection for my best friend.

“No, don’t bite him—that’s Fluffy Jr.,” I explained.

“Oh god, kid,” she hissed. “You named it. Look at it—it’s an abomination.”

We both looked.

Fluffy Jr. gagged on the stick, then he spat it out and started eating chunks of dirt. Aggressively.

It was hard to watch.

“His fur’s just grown in a little weird.” I winced. “But who am I to judge another’s appearance? Apparently I have frizzy hair.”

Nyx hissed, “Your issues can be solved. Nothing is fixing that thing.”

“His name is Fluffy Jr.” I rolled my eyes. “And he’s a dog, a puppy—I think. Maybe?”

Nyx tightened around my neck. “If you bond with that thing . . . I will kill it.”

“I’m not gonna bond with him,” I mumbled and kicked a rock. “But all the other animals hate me.”

“It’s better to be alone than to have to look at that every day.” Nyx shuddered.

“I think he’s cute,” I said petulantly.

“It’s not.” Nyx’s tongue flicked my cheek, and she hissed, “Also, you probably just freaked the animals out with your weird, depressive hormones. Try to think less about death—animals can sense it.”

I had no counterpoint.

The bronze door flung open. “Time to go,” General Cleandro called from the dark hall.

Distantly, past the lake, a spine-breaking roar echoed. Only an enormous creature could have made that sound.

Initiates sprinted past in a hurry to leave.

Fluffy Jr. whimpered.

My heart broke.

“Next time, I’ll break you out of here,” I promised. “Try to carry sticks in the middle until then.” I picked up a stick and bit down, to show him how to hold it properly, then threw it to him and sprinted for the door.

When I looked back, the twig hit him in the face, and he fell over.

Just before the door closed, he had it shoved halfway down his throat with the end poking out like a dagger.

I tried.

In a shocking turn of events (that absolutely no one saw coming), General Cleandro marched us back up to the gallows.

The hours of torture in the classroom continued.

I missed the butterflies.

Pine drew fractions on the board; Augustus guided us through a meditation; Pine rambled on about the ethics of graphs while he wrote out equations that were too long for the blackboard; Augustus told us in Latin about fearsome Cyclopes creatures, who looked sentient but were dumb as rocks (he glared at me the entire time).

Is he insinuating I have the intelligence of a Cyclops?

Candle wax dripped. Smoke hung hazily on the low rock ceiling. Classical melodies played, and teeth chattered from the damp cold.

The world was nothing but shades of black, red, and gray.

Without windows, time didn’t exist. Only misery did.

“Here are your tests,” General Cleandro said an indeterminable amount of time later as he dropped packets of paper onto our lap.

The room shifted back into focus.

Boots scuffed against rocks, and Leo whimpered as the general kicked him. “Stop slouching. Sit up straight and take the fucking test.”

A hawk screeched in warning.

Will the drones ever stop spying on us?

Pen fisted awkwardly in my hand, arm shaking, I started on the long Thagorean equation. It spanned multiple pages. One number at a time, I solved it.

The pattern, the repetition, was calming.

“PENS DOWN.”

Another packet was placed on my lap. It took long minutes to switch my brain to Latin, then I scratched out an essay about Cyclopes and their limited intelligence.

“TIME’S UP.”

Maximum grunted in the front row as General Cleandro “accidentally” kicked him when he picked up his test.

When the general got to me, I flinched and waited.

He grunted, staring down at me with an unreadable expression as he picked up my test, then he moved onto the back row.

Alessander, Titus, and Leo all got kicked—hard.

Thank you, God, for being so good to me. I see what you do. Praise be. Sadly, I was too exhausted to celebrate properly (feel anything).

“Everyone, please pay attention.” Professor Augustus stood at the front of the class. He glanced at me with a fierce scowl, then looked pleasantly at the rest of the class.

What do they call reverse favoritism? Wait, isn’t that bullying? Do they have HR around here? I need to report him.

Stylish black glasses perched on Augustus’s nose and somehow contrasted with his scar, making him look more uncivilized.

“All of you,” he said, “showed a decent aptitude for the material, so no one will be punished for their performance.”

He paused.

“That being said, if you’re consistently at the bottom, you need to study harder if you want to last till the spring. Here is your order: First, Alexis Hert. Second, Cassius Hermes. Third, Alessander Poseidon. Fourth, Drex Chen. Fifth, Maximum Hera. Sixth, Leo Apollo. Seven, Titus Dionysus.”

The one time they decide to not off the person who scored last—there’s no justice left in this cruel world.

Drex nudged me with his elbow and grinned. I tried to give him a thumbs-up, but I couldn’t get my hands to cooperate, so I held up three bent, trembling fingers.

We both grimaced.

“You all have two hours to study, until nightfall,” Augustus snapped, scowling at where Drex was touching me with his elbow.

“As you know,” he continued, “as a reward for surviving this far, you get a taste of what Sparta has to offer. A symposium is held monthly at the Dolomite Coliseum. So we’ll be attending tonight after your study session.”

Didn’t they say there would be food there? Bless up. Tears of relief filled my eyes as my empty stomach cramped painfully.

The room erupted in whispers of excitement.

“SILENCE,” General Cleandro roared.

You could hear a pin drop.

Augustus narrowed his dark eyes at me, then smiled at the rest of the room. “You will return to this academy by dawn tomorrow morning. Then you only have one more day of class before you see your mentors.”

Shoulders slumped.

“But if you don’t make it back by dawn,” Augustus warned, “then you’ll be a presumed defector, and I’ve been ordered to personally hunt you down and eliminate you.”

Well, that escalated quickly.

Also—tempting.

Should I take the second option?

“All right. Good work, everyone.” He clapped his hands. “Go study.”

Groaning, bones creaking and joints popping, the seven of us slowly ambled to our feet.

Gravity was a cruel mistress.

General Cleandro left the room, muttering something about using the shitter. I wasn’t exactly sure, and frankly, I didn’t want to know.

“Alexis—stay back in the classroom,” Augustus called, smile slipping off his face. “I’d like to have a word with you.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed a scream of frustration. The warmth of the library was so close.

Great, he’s going to kill me.

“Yes, P-Professor,” I whispered, face warming with embarrassment as the other initiates left and I walked over to the blackboard. Something about stuttering in front of Augustus made me feel like the biggest fool.

Poco chittered, perched on his shoulder, an obese floof of gray and black. I hope Fluffy Jr. is doing okay.

I stared at the racoon as I waited for Augustus to speak, too much of a coward to make eye contact.

“Look at me,” he ordered, smooth voice deepening into a snarl.

My head snapped up.

Soulless black eyes narrowed threateningly and held my gaze. The scar across his cheek was an angry shade of red.

I struggled to breathe under his intense scrutiny.

The scent of ozone and electricity filled the air, sharp enough to sting but warm enough to be slightly intoxicating.

He smelled like a lightning storm.

Long seconds passed as I waited for him to speak, and there was a strange tension between us.

It felt . . . violent.

“Zeus has requested to meet you before the symposium,” he finally said, voice full of accusation, like I’d gone behind his back.

Silence stretched, heavy and oppressive.

“Okay?”

Augustus inhaled deeply. “As I’m sure you know, women are usually forbidden from attending symposia.”

Why does everyone assume I know things?

“However.” His black eyes flashed. “The federation has voted to make an exception for you. Because you’re an abandoned mutt already participating in the crucible, they do not believe there is any honor to be lost.”

From his scoff, he did not agree with their assessment.

Personally, I got where they were coming from. Never been honorable a day in my life.

Augustus shook his head sharply. “But you don’t have to attend if you don’t feel comfortable. It really is not the place for a young woman like yourself. Especially since Kharon has told me about you. On my honor as a Chthonic heir, I can’t allow it. I’ll inform Zeus to meet you here at the academy and⁠—”

“No, I’ll go,” I said, cutting him off with a casual (very tense) shrug. There’s food there. I will be present and accounted for. Count me in. “It sounds—delicious.”

Augustus went unnaturally still.

“Excuse me?” he asked softly.

“I’ll go,” I repeated as my empty stomach growled loudly. “It’s fine.” Did he not hear me?

He lunged forward, posture contorting with fury, face twisting, hands fisting.

I reeled back.

Never mind, it wasn’t fine.

Professor Augustus loomed above me, radiating vitriol, like he was ready to commit murder.

Of all the times for Nyx to be asleep, I needed her help now. I’d missed something crucial in the conversation.

Oh my god, he’s actually going to kill me.

He took another step forward.

I inched back toward the blackboard.

The scent of electricity increased a hundredfold, like lightning had struck where he stood.

Poco hissed, picking up on the energy.

Augustus abruptly stopped moving and ground his teeth together, then he cracked his neck back and forth like he was getting ready for battle.

The movement made his long ponytail sway, and the two-toned hair shone beneath his crown like silk in the candlelight.

“The symposium,” he said, voice menacingly low, “is not the place for a sheltered girl who grew up in the softhearted human world. Our world is . . . dangerous, especially for someone like you. You should rethink your choices, if you know what’s good for you. It’s my duty to protect you.”

What does he mean, someone like me? Is it because everyone thinks I’m Zeus’s daughter?

Phantom pains shot down my wrists, and I rubbed at the scars.

An ember of rage smoldered in my sternum as “sheltered” repeated mockingly in my head.

You know nothing of what it takes to survive the human world.

“No offense, Professor,” I whispered as I held his burning gaze, tired of being pushed around by everyone. “But I know what’s good for me. I don’t need your help.”

Pride filled my chest.

I’d finally done it; I’d talked back.

Augustus clenched his square jaw, the vein in his forehead jumping. That was the only warning I got.

Blood covered the whites of his eyes.

Heaviness slammed against my mind like a battering ram, and acute pain throbbed at the front of my skull.

The pounding sensation intensified, like someone was hammering behind my eyes.

There was blinding pressure.

The world was on fire.

His lips didn’t move, but a distorted masculine voice boomed through my skull. You don’t want to go to the symposium. Pressure and flames tore through my mind, razing all thoughts. You will not go, it ordered.

The voice was right.

I didn’t want to go.

The burning pain ratcheted up into an inferno, the order repeating on loop, tearing apart my mind and my will.

Wait—no.

Terror sparked hotter, and I mentally pushed with everything I had, shoving at the intruder.

The pressure in my skull suddenly disappeared.

Staggering, blind, head aching, I slammed back against the board and barely held myself upright.

When my vision finally refocused, I was bent over with my hands on my knees, covered in sweat.

Shakily, I rubbed away the moisture beneath my eyes. My fingers came back stained red—I was crying blood.

It was also trickling out of my nose and ears.

Looking up at Augustus with horror, I slid away along the blackboard toward the door.

His expression was harsh and unrelenting. Unmerciful. Like he didn’t regret it. Like he wanted to do it again. Like he wanted to hurt me. Break me. Destroy me. Torture me.

I averted my gaze.

He tried to crack my mind. He tried to . . . change my thoughts. He tried to force me not to go.

His power was so much worse than I could have ever imagined.

He didn’t read minds—he broke them.

Teeth chattering, arms wrapped around my torso, I backed away from the Chthonic monster that had violated my thoughts.

“Can I go, Professor?” I whispered to the floor. I was never going to look him in the eyes ever again.

“No,” he said silkily.

Pain throbbed in my temples, and I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. In three strides he’d crossed the room and loomed over me.

Electricity filled my nose.

His hot breath fluttered against my ear, and I whimpered at his proximity.

“Your scores in Lost Classical Lore are unacceptable.” His voice was deceptively soft. “Your analyses are surface level and argumentative. Your grammar is abysmal, and you write in run-on sentences.”

I swallowed thickly.

Numbers had always made sense, words less so.

He leaned closer. “Your work product is . . . infuriating.”

His words were saying one thing, but his body language was saying something else. Once again, there was a conversation happening that I was missing.

Why are Chthonics so freakin’ cryptic and confusing?

Rage, violence, and a tangle of sharp emotions too intense to name rolled off Augustus. He was backing me into a corner, a predator playing with its food.

He just violated my mind, and now he’s threatening me. I didn’t know if I wanted to sob or scream.

“Is that a-all, P-Professor?” I breathed out, barely able to speak.

“For now,” he said but didn’t move, like he knew how much standing in his presence was getting under my skin. “You’re dismissed.”

I stumbled blindly toward the door, refusing to give the monster my back.

“Oh—and one more thing,” he called as I stepped across the threshold, so close to freedom.

He was toying with me.

I whimpered.

“Your Thagorean scores will only carry you for so long. I don’t give a fuck that you’re a math prodigy.” He chuckled cruelly. “You are a woman in a man’s world. It’s a dishonor on all of us for allowing this to continue. Make smarter choices, or . . . there will be consequences, Alexis.” My name fell from his lips, like it was the wickedest of sins. “You’re not proving what you think you are for women—you’re just screwing yourself.”

I don’t think I’m proving anything. I’m just trying to survive.

“If you can’t take care of yourself,” he said softly, “someone else might step in to do it for you. You’ve been warned.”

Blood-covered eyes glowed in my peripheral vision.

I stared at the floor, gasping.

What the heck is happening right now? What does he mean about stepping in?

He was trying to scare me away—right? It didn’t feel like that was happening. It felt like I was missing something.

Something big.

It’s that he doesn’t hate you; he absolutely despises everything about your existence.

I didn’t look back as I ran into the library. Collapsing behind the stacks, hand on my frantically racing heart, I struggled to inhale.

It was official.

I was never speaking again.

A muse pushing a cart full of books stopped to give me an odd look, but then she averted her gaze and disappeared.

No one was going to help me.

Not here.

Not in Sparta.

I gripped the lopsided tattoo on my forearm and whimpered. I missed Charlie so freaking much that it hurt to breathe.

It hurt to live.

Gasps turned into manic laughter, then brutal sobs racked through my chest as I clawed at my wrists, tears dripping red. My ears and nose leaked. A high-pitched ringing burned unmercifully.

There was nothing left of me to ruin, neither body nor mind.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and two voices whispered, but I didn’t bother to look up.

I knew nothing was there.

It was all in my head.

I’d lost control.

Of everything.