Chapter 1

1

Nemea

“ W ho are you, and why are you here?”

It’s a woman’s voice, smooth and lightly accented. I’ve barely come to after being unconscious for who-knows-how-long. I turn my head toward the demand, straining to see through the dark fabric of the bag over my head. It’s rough against my cheek and smells of fresh bud, which is oddly calming. My wrists are bound, the hard plastic of zip ties digging into my flesh.

I’m about to answer when Alcides’ voice cuts in.

“You know who I am, Antiope. I have a bargain for Hippolyta. She’ll want to talk.”

There’s a soft, derisive snort and a handful of other chuckles around me that cease after a sharp, “Shh!”

“You really think after all this time , she’ll want to see you? You are a fool, Herakles.”

I wince at the use of that name. “Don’t call him that.”

Footsteps approach from the side, and I crane my head to follow the sound as they come around to the front. The bag is snatched off my head, the scent of pot replaced by the warring aromas of hay, manure, and sharply pungent body odor. A dark-haired woman with wise amber eyes and a scar cutting through one eyebrow bends down and peers into my face.

“And what is your name, then?”

I clench my jaw, holding her steady stare, unblinking. “Nemea.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she straightens and crosses her arms. She’s tall and olive-skinned, with hair shorn close to her skull everywhere except the top, where it stands in unruly spikes. She’s clad in black cargo pants, a black tank top, and combat boots. I abstractly think she and Cassandra Vincent would have a lot in common.

“Nemea,” she drawls, cocking her head at me and narrowing her eyes as she looks me over. “I don’t believe you, but okay.”

“It’s actually my name, and Alcides is his name,” I snap. A tremor cascading through the earth beneath us causes the lights above to swing like pendulums. I grit my teeth and clench my eyes shut, willing the magic back.

“Whoa, don’t piss her off, Antiope,” comments one of the other women.

“I’m sorry,” I say when I open my eyes. But she’s eyeing me with a measure of respect now.

“ Sorry , she says.” She snorts again then looks at the others as if it’s a joke. “Where did you come from, Nemea? And why are you keeping company with this thieving bastard?” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at Alcides, who is bound to the chair across from me, bag still secured over his head.

“I didn’t steal it,” Alcides grumbles. “She gave it to me.”

“You think I’m talking about the fucking belt, don’t you?” Antiope says over her shoulder. “You took my sister’s self-respect when you left. It took her centuries to get over you. Now you show up with your new hussy and want to chat. Why should I do anything but kick you the fuck out?”

“You brought me to your ex ?” I ask, incredulous.

“Take this fucking bag off my head so we can talk, Antiope,” Alcides snaps. “I’m not here to fight. Nemea needs your help. I’m here to bargain for you to give it to her—the belt in exchange for protecting and training her.”

Antiope turns and snatches the bag off his head, leaving his hair a wild mess. He blinks rapidly, gaze darting around the room before landing on me. He does a quick scan before some of his tension eases. The relief in his eyes at seeing me whole makes me want to go to him. I try to rise, only to find my ankles are bound to the chair legs.

“Protect her from what—the four Titans who somehow got loose of their prison? Or something else? Tell me everything and I’ll consider bringing you to my sister to talk. You might start by explaining why you left in the first place and where you’ve been all this time.”

“Hippolyta knew I was a mess when we were together. I was in no state for a relationship. I’m not trying to excuse how I behaved—I was an asshole—but I needed to complete the fucking labors so I could move on with my poor excuse for a life. When I was done, I dug myself a deep pit and hid in it, at least until Tartarus found me and gave me a purpose. I’ve been working for him since then.”

Antiope cocks her head while she listens, not a shred of sympathy showing. Then she tilts her head to me. “And where does she and your uninvited visit fit in?”

Alcides stares at me for a beat, swallows, then looks Antiope directly in the eyes. “She’s my fate, Antiope. And she needs a place to stay that isn’t Tartarus, because he tried to trap her inside his prison. But she can’t go home because it isn’t safe for her anymore. Chaos is seeking her. Her power is too raw and untamed, but if she’s trained she can potentially tip the scales against the Titans when we face them. But if the Titans learn of her existence too soon and her link to Tartarus…”

“What is her link to Tartarus?” she digs.

“They’re all my mates,” I interject, tired of being left out of the interrogation. “All the guards, and Vesh too.”

A chorus of murmurs erupt from around us, some shock, some awe. Some oddly pitying.

Alcides takes a breath, measuring his words carefully. “You can protect her here. I’ve heard stories about this place over the centuries. How you take in damaged women and rehabilitate them, protect them from abusers, and help them learn to protect themselves—respect themselves. Nemea needs your protection.”

“Hey,” I say, frowning. “I’ve got plenty self-respect.”

He shifts his gaze to me. “You asked for my help. I’m giving it to you.”

We hold each other’s gazes for a second, sharing a charged look that makes me wish I’d had a chance to bond with him so we could have a telepathic link like I do with the others.

I want to reach for them now, but don’t, afraid that opening the door to my sanctuary might allow Vesh to find me.

“Cut her bindings,” Antiope says, gesturing to one of the other women, who steps close as she unsheathes a large hunting knife from her belt, then squats in front of me.

As she cuts my zip ties, I take in my surroundings for the first time. We’re in a large cinderblock barn with high rafters and horse stables around the perimeter. Balconies wrap around above the stables, and a few women lean on the wooden railing looking down, all similarly clad in dark, utilitarian clothing like they’re mercenaries or soldiers. The far end of the space beyond Alcides is wide open, and occupied by what appears to be a fighting ring.

The woman kneeling in front of me finishes cutting my bindings, eyeing me warily.

“What is this place?” I ask her.

The woman glances over her shoulder. “It’s a barn.”

I narrow my eyes at her, and she smirks. “Nemean Boxing Club, officially. Unofficially, it’s a women’s shelter, a vineyard, a winery and brewery, and a pot farm, plus a survival training camp.”

“And her?” I ask, rubbing my wrists and glancing sidelong at Antiope, who stands watch with arms crossed while Alcides and I are released. They only cut his ankles free of the chair, though, leaving his wrists bound. Two other women flank him and pull him to his feet.

“Antiope, also known as Princess Battleaxe. I’d say her bark is worse than her bite, but it really isn’t.”

“I meant what is she? She and Alcides seem to go back centuries. I know he’s a demigod.”

“You’re not mortal. Don’t you know already?”

I stare back blankly, hesitating to admit my mundane origins and lack of knowledge about this world I’ve been thrust into. “Uh… pretend I don’t.”

“We’re Amazons.”