Chapter 24

24

Vesh

T he blue glow of monitors casts shadows across the security booth, each screen a portal into another corner of the Pandemonium. My gaze is sharp as I survey the meticulous web of surveillance, searching for any weakness. It’s tricky, because I set up the very security I intend to breach, but I don’t want any fabricated flaw to be too obvious that one of the human staff can spot an issue.

“Can we cycle through the west wing now?” I keep my voice even, devoid of the urgency that’s coiling in my gut. The technician jumps at my words, his fingers fumbling before obeying.

The second guard is a statue of tension, trying too hard to look absorbed in his task. If he only knew the chaos that could be unleashed with a snap of my fingers... but that would be counterproductive.

The cameras flip obediently from one view to another, displayed on the larger screen in the center of the grid. My gaze isn’t on that screen, but on the smaller one just above it. The most important camera in the entire resort.

I’ve already made the necessary adjustments to those cameras nearest the vault, particularly the one aimed at the door itself, creating just enough blind spots to slip through undetected. But it’s not enough to set it and forget it; I have to make sure nothing’s been tampered with since.

“We’re good here,” I finally say, breaking the silence that has stretched too thin. Both guards exhale in relief as I turn on my heel and stride out, heading toward the elevators.

As I ascend to the penthouse suite, I can’t help but let my mind wander to Nemea. Her absence is like a thorn in my side, a constant prickling reminder of uncertainty in what should be a flawless plan. Her absence shouldn’t matter so much to this task, but it’s thrown a wrench in the works that I didn’t anticipate, what with Erebus defecting and Cerberus losing focus to the point I never know whether he’s heard my commands, never mind which of his three infernal brains are in control.

The elevator dings softly, announcing my arrival at the penthouse suite. Chrysaor greets me with a nod that doesn’t quite hide his unease. Pan lounges against a wall, looking as if he’s trying to appear casual but failing miserably. Cerberus stands apart from them both, his expression a little too serene, like he’s stoned, even though I know that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Kol, the shadow dragon substitute for my brother, is the only one who looks like he’s ready to go to work.

“Everything is ready,” I assure them without preamble. “The boss is in his office and will arrive shortly before the first guests. Only a couple hours until showtime.”

“Sybil is in her favorite place,” Pan says, nodding toward the wall of plate glass windows that overlook the rooftop pool deck. In the middle of the water floats an oversized inflatable lounge chair with a deceptively innocent, bikini-clad woman basking in the late afternoon sun. She has a martini in one hand and a paperback in the other.

“Our window of opportunity will be narrow. Precision is key.”

Chrysaor grunts in response, reaching down to grasp the walkie at his hip and scowling when he realizes it isn’t his sword hilt. It’s an anxious tic he hasn’t been able to shake since we started planning this heist.

“And Campe?” Pan asks, his voice betraying his concern for her role in all this.

As if on cue, Campe materializes beside me with a soft whoosh of displaced air—always dramatic. Her eyes meet mine for just a moment before flickering away, but it’s long enough for me to see the determination there. Nemea’s scent wafts to my nose from her direction and it’s enough to make me want to claw at my own skin.

“I’m ready,” she says simply. She exhales a breath that transforms her leather armor into a dark suit matching the garb the rest of the security staff wear.

I nod, desperately tamping down the rising need in my gut to fuck off from this job and go find Nemea instead. “Good. Remember your part; we can’t afford any slip-ups.”

“We’ve got this,” Cerberus growls, and I catch the slightest quaver in his voice, the uncertainty. The desire to be anywhere else but here. Is this the head mirroring my own desires, or one of the other two that are bound to my brothers?

I don’t miss how they all avoid mentioning Erebus’ absence or questioning whether Kol can fill his shoes. They’re good soldiers when they need to be—though “good” is an inadequate word for beings such as us.

We go over the final details of our plan one last time. I sound like a broken record, but I’m not letting anything keep us from success. Then I dismiss the four of them and they disperse, each one taking their position around the penthouse while I oversee the caterers and event planners making final preparations.

I weave through the chaos of the kitchen, then through the common rooms of the penthouse. The dining room features a chocolate fountain the size of a man in the center of the table, with one of the caterers carefully arranging cookies and fresh fruit around it.

Another station is dedicated to fancy cocktails, which is all Sybil ever drinks. The bartender wipes down the bar, brought in just for the occasion while a florist arranges a bouquet of exotic flowers at one end.

I check my watch, gauging how much time we have before the host appears and guests start arriving. Not long now, but just enough time for me to do one final sweep.

Cerberus wanders through the main room, looking lost. He’s a ball of nerves in a tailored suit that doesn’t fit his frame, nor his temperament. He’s all sharp edges and restless energy, constantly adjusting his cuffs and collar as if the fabric is a living thing trying to strangle him.

He pauses mid-stride, mumbling under his breath about securing the west wing where Erebus is supposed to be stationed. Except his sector is the east wing near Sybil’s room. Plus Erebus isn’t here; Kol is. I’ve told him this. Repeatedly.

My patience frays at the edges. “Cerberus,” I call out, my voice low and even, trying to keep my frustration in check.

He turns, three expressions flickering across his face in quick succession before settling on a frown. “What?”

“Erebus isn’t part of this operation,” I remind him for what feels like the hundredth time. “Kol is covering his post. Get it straight.”

Cerberus scowls and looks away, but not before I see the confusion—no, the conflict—swimming in his eyes. It’s like he can’t hold onto the change in plans, can’t accept that Erebus isn’t here.

I don’t have time for this.

“Cerberus!” My voice snaps like a whip through the air this time, drawing stares from the staff setting up floral arrangements. “Get your shit together.”

He bristles at my tone, eyes narrowing. Then, without a word, he stalks off toward the service elevator.

Chrysaor steps up beside me, his gaze tracking Cerberus’ retreat. “You know why he’s off,” he says quietly.

I grind my teeth together. “Enlighten me.”

“His loyalty is split three ways,” Chrysaor explains with an edge of impatience as if I should already know this. “Blood-bound to Typhon and Erebus just as much as to you. With you all at odds, it’s messing with his heads.”

I run a hand over my face, frustration simmering beneath my skin. We don’t have time for existential crises; we have a heist to pull off.

“I can’t replace him,” I snap, glaring at Chrysaor.

Pan interjects before Chrysaor can reply, his voice steady as always. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He gives me a firm nod that doesn’t quite mask the concern in his eyes. “Make sure he’s focused before things get underway.”

“Fine.” My reply is curt as I turn back to surveying the room.

But inside, my thoughts churn with unease. Cerberus’ instability is a liability we can ill afford right now—and it’s one more thing reminding me of how Nemea’s absence has unbalanced us all, even if she is still letting them in.

It’s not just Cerberus feeling the strain of divided loyalties; we all are. But we don’t have the luxury of time or space to deal with it now—we have a job to do.