Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

ATHENA

No. Not Paris, please, not sweet, caring Paris. My hands and feet are suddenly freezing and my head gets a little dizzy. It can’t be Paris. I was so sure it was Heph. I figured Heph’s loyalty didn’t extend to my mother, only Perseus. There was even the passing thought that Perseus was sick of my mother and wanted it all for himself. But Paris? The thought didn’t even crossed my mind.

“Tell them what you did.” Eros holds the gun steadily pointed between Paris’s eyes.

“Really, Eros.” Paris’s lips are pressed in a flat line, his eyes narrowing in on Eros as he glares. “Afraid that even after sleeping with you, she might still want me more?”

“Do you really think so little of Athena that she would still want you after you killed her mother?”

“She does want me. That is why you are trying to put this shit on me.”

“I don’t care if she wants you, too. I don’t give a fuck how many of us she wants or has regularly. I’m cool with sharing.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “What I’m not cool with is the lies, deception, and the murdering of family.”

“I didn’t do it!” He leans forward like he is trying to snap the ties binding him to the chair. “How could I? Why would I?”

“I don’t believe you.” Eros draws the hammer back on the gun.

Perseus starts screaming at him to put the gun down. He is swearing and promising pain and vengeance. Paris, however, is calm. Even with the gun pressed to his forehead, he looks bored.

“You have no proof,” Paris says through clenched teeth, his voice full of rage and only a hint of fear.

“I will, once I have your confession,” Eros replies just as calmly.

“I can’t confess to something I didn’t do. What are you going to do, Eros? If I don’t confess, you are going to kill me. And if I do, you’re going to kill me. So, what exactly are my options here?”

“Put the gun down, Eros. This has gone far enough.” Perseus turns to me. “Stop this before someone gets killed.”

“That’s your problem. You know that you are all action and no fucking reason. All brawn but no brains. Hell, even Heph thinks shit through more than you do,” Paris adds.

“No one says you have to die quickly.” Eros lowers the gun and points it at one of Paris’s kneecaps.

“Eros, baby, don’t. He didn’t do it,” I try to reason.

“Yeah, baby, I didn’t fucking do it.” The venom in Paris’s voice is enough to make cold shivers run down my spine. I keep forgetting who this man really is.

I keep forgetting that Paris isn’t just the sweet, nerdy loving one that gives tender kisses and makes me feel cherished. He isn’t just the man who buys me coffee and calls me angel. He has another side to him. One that I don’t see at the coffee shop when it is just the two of us.

He’s just like the rest of them. He is capable of the same things Eros is. He may look more like a cute nerd, especially compared to the avenging fallen angel that is Eros, but he is so much more under the surface. To survive what life has thrown at him, to run with these men, he has to be cold, calculating, and ruthless. None of the men in this room is innocent. All of us have become the master of our own games. The question is, whose hands are dripping with my mother’s blood?

My heart breaks a little for the man I thought Paris was, what he could have been, what I thought he was.

“Put down the fucking gun,” Perseus pleads. There is more fear in Perseus’s eyes than in Paris’s, but I guess that makes sense. Perseus has already lost a mother; losing a brother, too, might be enough to push him over the edge.

Heph lets out a roar as he manages to get to his feet, still tied to the chair, and rushes Eros, knocking them both to the ground. The chair shatters, and the men start to grapple. Heph is still bound, which limits his movement. Heph is trying to knock the gun out of Eros’s hand by using his larger mass, but Eros won’t let go. He won’t give it up. Paris and Perseus are both yelling. I jump back, lifting my feet to avoid the shards of broken chair that are sliding across the wood floor.

My heart is pounding as I look at the two men brutally attacking each other on the floor. Heph is so much bigger, having at least forty pounds of muscle on Eros, but both are holding their own. Heph may have the bulk and strength, but his movements are being hindered by pieces of the chair still zip-tied to his arms and thighs. Even without the extra challenge, Eros is clearly a natural born brawler. He can take a hit and keep going. Heph has Eros’s arm in his hands, and he is smashing it against the wood floor, trying to loosen the grip Eros has on the weapon.

This is the stupidest and most dangerous thing I have ever seen. These assholes are going to shoot someone or each other.

Eros throws an elbow into Heph’s neck and then swings the gun wide.

The gun goes off and a scream rips from my throat.