Chapter 14 The Eldest Heir
THE ELDEST HEIR
AUGUSTUS
Adrenaline burned me alive.
How dare Achilles show his face after he abandoned her.
The House of Ares, the House of War, had no place for cowards.
Stomping forward through the pouring rain, I navigated the side streets of Rome.
I needed to get her medical care. You should have given her to Achilles to take to safety.
My grip tightened around her limp form. Over my dead body would I entrust him or Patro with her care. Never again.
A strange agony coursed down my spine, and a sharp ache throbbed in my right knee, but I easily ignored the pain.
Weakness wasn’t allowed. Greatness or nothing—there was no in-between.
The clouds hung low and ominous as I marched through puddles, scanning the ruined city for threats. Cold rain dripped off my nose, and Poco was huddled on my back, chewing on my wet hair.
The humans had dispersed.
Chains tugged at my waist holster, but I refused to slow as I stalked forward, fuming, dragging the three bound Titans behind me, their skulls cracking satisfyingly against the cobbled street. They shrieked behind the gags I’d made from my shirt.
When did Titans sprout fucking wings?
The rain splattered against the ruined cobbled street with an angry hiss as two hellhounds stalked ahead of me, glitching in and out of focus, leading the way to the safe house.
Kharon was heavy against my left side, his grip painful as he clung to my arm. His state was rapidly deteriorating. Half-unconscious, he mumbled nonsensically, a mangled ridge where his ear used to be.
He’d done the unthinkable.
Determination flared hotter in my chest. I would save them both or die trying.
Poco dropped my hair and chittered at Alexis with concern, shivering with matted fur, as he reached down and patted her pale cheek with his tiny black hand, but she didn’t wake.
He mewled sadly.
I agree.
Fluffy Jr. limped to my right—the size of a pony—and nudged Alexis’s feet with his head. She was covered in so much blood that the downpour couldn’t wash it away.
I picked up the pace, dragging Kharon with me.
Minutes later, the hellhounds finally stopped in front of the safe house’s tall decorative wall.
I pushed on the corner of a dark-colored brick, unlatching the secret door. Shoving forward, I checked over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t being followed.
The small structure sat plain and unobtrusive, hidden by dense foliage, so it blended in with the rain, almost invisible. There were no windows, just a solid brick facade, reinforced by a thick sheet of titanium.
I kicked aside the welcome mat and gingerly bent down, balancing Alexis and propping Kharon against the wall, as I picked up the silver key.
If for some bizarre reason an Olympian discovered this safe house, they’d look for a more advanced point of entry, like a keypad or finger scanner.
The key under the mat was surprisingly effective.
Hefting Alexis against my chest, I fumbled with the door, shoving the key into the lock. Multiple clicks echoed.
Titanium unlatched.
I pushed my way in, out of the rain, pulling in Kharon and the Titans behind me. Once all of us were inside, I flipped the locks and shoved the steel door jammer into place.
The air was chilly and stale.
It was mostly dark, only a sliver of light came in through the peephole, but I knew where everything was.
All Chthonic safe houses had the same layout and amenities.
A king bed filled the small carpeted room, and there was a galley kitchen behind it. The white door led to a bathroom with a shower and two sinks; the black door led to a cellar.
The three dogs—if the two hellhounds and Alexis’s lumpy protector could even be called that—flopped down onto the carpet.
Gently, I laid Alexis on the bed.
Poco climbed off my shoulders, sitting beside her, chittering as he smoothed curls from her forehead.
My heart clenched.
Kharon groaned. I shrugged him off my shoulder, and he collapsed beside Alexis.
I needed a plan.
Stalking over to the small kitchen, I opened and closed drawers until I found the bottle of matches. There was no power in any of the safe houses because solar generators were visible with infrared lenses.
I lit the candles scattered around the room, chains clattering as they stretched.
I yanked open the cellar door, dragging the three chained Titans roughly down the narrow stairwell. They thudded against each step, rolling at unnatural angles with muffled shrieks.
At the bottom, I tightened their gags, checking to make sure they still had the tags pierced through their lips. The two winged Titans I’d given Alexis’s golden tags, because by the time we’d arrived, they were mostly defeated. She deserved the credit.
One by one, I grabbed them by their bound hands. Their shoulders cracked as I wrenched their arms up and back, attaching their cuffs to the titanium hooks bolted into the ceiling.
Once all three of them were secured, I hurried back upstairs and studied Alexis and Kharon.
You need to see the damage. Clean them, then wound care.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, limping slightly. It took a minute, then steamy water sprayed out from the well that was located far beneath the building’s foundation.
I paused before the mirror.
What the fuck.
Blood was still dripping from the corners of my eyes, even though I wasn’t using my Chthonic powers.
My headaches were also getting worse, and my gut was telling me that something was happening to my power. It was changing—I just had no idea how.
I gripped the cool porcelain sink.
The dark circles around my eyes were almost black, stained with streaks that matched the scar slashed across my face; stubble covered my lower jaw, and purple veins protruded from my neck.
What the fuck is happening to me?
The sink cracked beneath my fingers.
Shaking my head, as if I could jostle the madness away, I tried to smile to soften my features. It came out as a snarl.
Stalking back over to the bed, I stopped pretending to be something I wasn’t.
I slapped Kharon across the face. “You need to shower—wake up,” I ordered. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
Kharon moaned, “Oh fuck off.” But he stretched his arms and cracked his neck, eyes still closed, like he was readying himself.
Turning away from him, I shook Alexis’s shoulder as gently as possible. “Can you stand, sweetheart?” I whispered into her ear.
Eyelashes fluttered open, but her gaze was glossy and distant, then she closed her eyes with a sigh.
“I need to take off your wet clothes,” I said. “Just to get you warm and prevent infection—I won’t look. I promise.”
For some reason, I felt the need to add the last part. Nudity was as natural to Spartans as wearing clothes, but Alexis always rushed to change in the locker room.
I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.
“Is that okay?” I asked, stomach sinking at the thought of causing her any more angst.
Eyelids fluttered, and she rolled to her side. “It’s … fine,” she whispered sleepily.
I pulled off her soaking bloody rags as efficiently as possible, swearing as dried blood tugged on open wounds.
Some guns and knives clattered to the floor, much fewer than what she’d started with.
I lifted her in my arms, her heart resting against mine as I carried her into the shower. Her skin was frigid and she vibrated with shivers.
Luckily, the bathroom was made specifically with wounded Spartans in mind, because the fully stocked marble shower was double the size of a usual one, with a built-in bench for sitting, and nozzles that sprayed water from the ceiling and sides.
Still clothed, I gingerly sat down on the bench, trying desperately not to jostle Alexis.
In the steamy dark, she groaned and flinched under the hot spray.
“Shhh, don’t fret,” I said, voice cracking. “I got you … You’re safe now.”
Repositioning her so she was seated on my thighs, I reached for soap and a washcloth.
Alexis was a tall woman, but I was still a much larger man. She weighed next to nothing compared to Kharon (I’d carried him and cleaned him after a Titan battle more times than he’d ever admit) and it was easy to position her.
As gently as possible, I scrubbed off the dirt and blood that covered her like a second skin, so thick the rain hadn’t been able to clean it away.
Even in the dark, I could see that the water ran black as I scrubbed.
“You’re so strong,” I praised, whispering into her hair as I cleaned every inch of her body.
I kept muttering, desperate to put her at ease.
“You’re so brave … You’re the strongest Chthonic I’ve ever seen … You’re so powerful … You’re so intelligent, a math prodigy … I’ve never seen a more impressive warrior … You’re so resilient … so good … You’re going to change the world.”
I meant every word.
Once the water ran clear, I turned to her messy mane of curls. Dumping shampoo into my hand, I gently leaned her forward, holding her with one arm around her midsection as my other hand lathered her hair.
I dug my fingers deep into her scalp, scrubbing at the base of her head.
Alexis moaned groggily, this time with pleasure. Her shivers subsided and it felt like I could breathe again.
“You’re so perfect,” I whispered.
My beliefs were cracking around me and I didn’t know what to think.
Women shouldn’t have to fight in war. It was fundamentally wrong, but it didn’t escape me that Alexis had nearly decimated two Titans with wings, all by herself.
How someone so delicate could be so powerful was beyond my understanding.
I struggled to get my thoughts in order.
Instead, I scrubbed at Alexis’s scalp for long moments, as if the tenderness could replace the last hour of her life, and the memories that would surely haunt her.
She tilted her head to the right, and I stilled my ministrations as she looked at me through heavy lashes.
“Thank … you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.
I smiled softly. “Of course … I’ll always be there to take care of you.”