Page 14 of Scion of Chaos

“That only means they’re likely not tied to any of the residents there, so it remains a safe haven from them for now. It rules out only one of millions of potential locations. If you were a Titan, where would you go?” I glance around at each of my guards.

Chrysaor snorts and smirks at the others, his lips pulling back from his short tusks. “If I got out, I’d do exactly what the two ofyoujust did—try to get laid. By the way, next time, you’d better invite me along for the ride.”

I hear murmurs of agreement from the others. Even Cerberus, whose awareness is linked to mine for the meeting while he patrols, chuffs softly.

Having eight horny guards sharing space in my consciousness on a daily basis is hard enough. They don’t always warn me when they’re going to take center stage, so I do my best to maintain a tight hold on my psyche when I have business that keeps me on the outside. Sometimes a man’s business is his alone, after all.

But something tells me this particular business might not be just mine or Pan’s. Typhon’s presence lingers in the back of my mind, more focused on the conversation than he’s been since before his injuries. Alcides’ scowl at the others makes me take another look around at all of them. Each and every one is fixated on the glowing island in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.

The one place we know the Titanscan’tbe. Which is also the place I feel drawn to the most.

8

Vesh

“And where were you when this jailbreak occurred?” Chaos leans back in his cushy desk chair, staring idly out at the enormous fountain in front of the casino. The light and water show is in full swing beyond the windows, and he’s fixated on it. It’s almost as if he’s bored by my news that four of the most dangerous creatures in existence have liberated themselves from my custody.

“I was here at the Pandemonium, where I always am. You already know this. And I wasn’t aware of the breach because the casino’s security demanded most of my attention last night.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. How he manages to sound judgmental in a single syllable is beyond me. “Are your guards not pulling their weight? Typhon alone should be able to handle an unruly Titan or two.”

I grit my teeth. “Typhon is still recovering from thelastmission you sent us on, in case you’ve forgotten.” The arms of the chair creak under my tightening grip, and it’s all I can do not to critique Chaos’ demands that led us into that fight to begin with. His power might extend to every corner of existence, but Chaos himself lives in his own little bubble. Nothing seems to matter to him beyond his unending rivalry with Fate, and when he isn’t obsessing over that, he fixates on the workings of the casino and his relationship with his new bride.

“Which youfailed,” he says, barely turning his head to glance at me. He idly reaches out to the bowl of foil-wrapped chocolates on one side of his desk, unwraps one, and pops it into his mouth. The foil flutters to the surface of his desk to join a loose pile of previous wrappers that have accumulated like autumn leaves on top of his blotter.

A dozen retorts boil up to the tip of my tongue, only a few of them from my own mind. I hold them all back, opting to change the subject. “Pan attempted to hold them back, but wasn’t a match for all four. He lost his horns in the process.”

Chaos gives a slight nod as he slowly chews his candy, then swallows and shifts his attention out a different window, to the rooftop patio that adjoins both his office and his penthouse apartment next door. His mate, Sybil, is relaxing in a bikini on a floating lounge chair in the pool, the bright Nevada sun glinting off her translucent wet skin. One leg trails into the water, but the leg doesn’t end in a foot—instead a tentacle-like tail extends several feet down from her knee, slowly rotating to propel her in a lazy circle around the surface of the water.

“You should probably go after them,” Chaos says distractedly.

No shit.

“Sir, I think we need to consider the possibility of a different kind of breach. The prison should be impenetrable. Something weakened the doors. There are signs of fate magic at work.”

His head snaps around so fast my vision swims when he pins me with a look. “What did you say?” His very voice resonates deep inside my mind, and all the guards lurking with their ears to the door of this conversation stagger back and disappear from my awareness.

Fucking hell. I wanted his attention, but I never wantthislevel of attention from my maker. It’s painful when Chaos focuses his attention entirely onyoueven for a second.

But the cat is out of the bag. “Fate, sir. Ever since you ordered me to go after Andrew Vincent when we caught him counting cards three years ago, things have been off. Typhon is still out of commission, so I’m short-staffed, and… well, I don’t want to discount the possibility that that fight on Bear Island just riled Fate up even more, even though we lost. That Fate might be trying to get under your skin.”

And Fate’s getting to Chaos by getting undermyskin. The problem is, even knowing this is probably what’s happening, I can’t stop thinking about Nemea. Fate and Chaos have been at odds since the beginning of time, but their grudge match has reached new heights within the past several years. Meanwhile, everyone in the world gets caught in their tangled mess.

I used to believe I was immune. Chaosmademe, after all; surely that made me strong enough to avoid Fate’s meddling. The guy is still in complete denial about how he managed to get hooked up with Sybil, though. Fate may not have directly chosen the primordial demigoddess whose hip Chaos has been attached to for nearly four years now, but the goddess we fought on that island was directly involved, which means fate magic brought the pair together.

“Fate magic,” I repeat. “Shit’s been happening that can’t be explained any other way. If you’re not doing it, then we can’t rule out that Fate is involved.”

“Fate.” The word drips like acid off his tongue, another resonant vibration accompanying it that makes goosebumps rise on my skin. I clench my teeth, holding his steady glare. “And how, pray tell, do you think I could havemissedsuch an offense occurring in my own domain?”

I blink at him, stunned by his obtuseness, then glance past his shoulder through the window that overlooks his pool. Sybil is still slowly floating around, a cocktail in one hand with a straw to her lips. Her other hand applies sunscreen to her exposed, green-tinged skin while a second tentacle holds a book in front of her face. I’m not about to outright accuse my own maker of being oblivious, but the evidence speaks for itself.

Or it should, anyway.

A blur of expensive suit rounds the desk and my chair tips, landing so hard on the floor air rushes from my lungs. I can’t take in another breath because his hand is wrapped around my throat, pinning me to the plush carpet.

“You would be wise not to speak ill of my mate.”

My eyebrows lift and I manage to rasp out a rough, “Fate magic at work. ‘S all I’m saying.”

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