Saint—Hermes—makes the first move. His jaw is set, his expression burning hot. Atlas, on the other hand, is frigid. They meet each other blow for blow, not bothering to duck or defend themselves.
There’s something feral about it, more so than any of the other pairings. Often, a person finds themselves reduced to some sort of primal, survival instinct. The kill-or-be-killed feeling can take over. But this is worse. There’s no slow easing into it.
The way they attack each other would make me think it’s personal. Saint’s eyes gleam, and every hit seems to create waves of fury inside him. While Atlas takes and receives just as brutally, there’s only cold… Relief?Joy?
And when Atlas puts Saint flat on his back, I close my eyes.
6ARTEMIS
The three hosts of Olympus—Hades,Ares, Apollo—have not removed their masks. I keep mine on, too, lingering in the shadows. This back room, separate from the fighters’ area, is for the winners.
And one at a time, those winners are called forward to receive their prizes.
As is tradition, they offer favors. All the fighters get paid, but the winners…
What was Saint planning to ask for?
Freedom from you, a little voice whispers.
I accept the blow and straighten. Saint will just have to keep trying if that’s his aim.
There were four fights, and they’ve been receiving the winning fighters in reverse order. Atlas and Hypnos are left, waiting in the hallway with a raven-masked man. Another employee opens the door and ushers out the previous, who asked for help with his sick mother. Getting her in to see a specialist.
Done, Apollo stated.
Atlas strides in and stops before them. He’s changed his clothes. His black dress shirt and pants
“Congratulations, visitor,” Ares says.Wolfe. It’s sardonic, a tone I don’t quite expect from him. Perhaps he’s feeling Saint’s loss as much as I am?
“For your win, you receive a favor,” Hades explains. “If it’s in our power to grant it, it’s yours.”
Atlas inclines his chin. “I want to know more about the woman behind us.”
There’s a breath of silence, no one moving or breathing, and then they all turn to me.
Me?
I glance around. Of course he’s talking about me—I’m the only one here.
There was a time when the winners’ favors were heard aloud right after a fight. When their wants and desires were laid out for the spectators to judge, as well.
Thank goodness that’s a thing of the past.
“You want to know more about her? You could just ask her out,” Hades murmurs. “Why waste a favor?”
Atlas’s inky-black mask is still freaking me out, in the way that I want to touch it. It hides so much of his face, it’s impossible to decipher who he is. All I know is who he’s not.
“You better not mean in a sexual manner,” Apollo says stiffly. “She is?—”
“Your twin,” Atlas finishes. “Some things do translate. And I want for nothing else. I’m a mere spectator to the workings of Sterling Falls. You graciously allowed me to indulge here tonight. The only thing I wish to ask is that she stay with me for a full day.”
Shock.
Shock?
Yes, shock.
“It’s not our favor to grant,” Ares finally decides. “Artemis?”