Chapter Seventeen
This conversation is exactly why Zeus sent me to track down the Boys in the first place. It’s also exactly what I promised to give them as soon as we got back to Rox City.
So why am I still holed up in Apollo’s ensuite some twenty minutes later, dragging out my post-fuck routine and only succeeding in delaying the inevitable?
And why do I no longer recognize this woman staring back at me?
I’ve seen her face before: sex-tousled hair, swollen lips, and raccoon eyes. I’ve seen it a thousand times, in a thousand different mirrors. But never, ever quite like this—with this pinch of concern at the corners of her eyes, or the disturbed creases that bracket her mouth.
Somewhere around here was a line that I never should’ve approached, let alone crossed.
And now it’s too fucking late.
Because they're already at my door, and they’ve come armed with battering rams.
Emotional castle invaders.
Slowly working through my defenses, one by one. Leaving their hairline fractures all over the lead casing around my heart, alongside the two small fissures that both Zeus and Dio were already determinedly working on.
With an audible sigh, I let my shoulders drop and allow my head to fall forward.
God.
I am so fucked.
When I finally emerge from Apollo’s ensuite, it’s to find the man himself, also freshly showered and wearing a new track into the hardwood floors of their living area.
Hermes is sitting bundled up on the same armchair the two of them just gave their performance from. The only thing visible over the fluffy red blanket is a shock of curls and a pair of solemn hazel eyes.
I clear my throat. “Where’s Hades?” I ask, still a little hoarse from screaming into Apollo’s mattress.
“Checking the cameras while we wait for Cal to get back.”
“Cameras? You’ve got access to the Academy’s servers?”
Good luck getting anything useful there. I’d already set up Foster with timestamps to wipe from outside both of our dorm buildings. There’s no longer any record of Dominic, my embarrassing tango with the Boy’s front door, or Leo’s confrontation out in the hallway.
“ His cameras,” Apollo says, pointedly.
Oh shit.
Hades is notoriously private—and there hasn’t been a firewall that Hermes couldn’t sweet talk the pants off—so of course, they’d have their own secure network setup.
I just hope there are no cameras inside their dorm.
As soon as that thought forms, the image of a brooding Atlas Rhodes fills my mind.
Find what you were looking for?
Fuck. He does have cameras inside their dorm.
And for the first time since they came home, I’m grateful they interrupted me when they did. Apollo and Hermes’s arrival unintentionally saved me from getting into a proper sweep and some real trouble.
But now I’m curious what Apollo’s ‘ hell to pay’ might look like. Whether or not he would have happily ‘punished’ me for it.
He certainly has the filthy mouth for it.
The front door swings open with a crash and Ares barrels inside their apartment. His auburn locks look like he’s been tugging at the longer pieces on top.
“What happened?” he demands, his deep voice rough with anxiety.
Apollo’s brows knit together as he takes him in.
“Text made it sound like it was an emergency,” Ares clarifies, gym bag dropping heavily to the floor as he moves around the couch. Apollo frowns at it with consternation.
That’s when Ares finally clocks my presence.
His whole body goes on alert, shoulders bunching and the muscles in his jaw launching into their favorite jazzercise routine.
“Why is she here?” he growls out, and I know I shouldn’t enjoy it so much because clearly he doesn’t like me—but goddamn, it’s got some heat to it. I feel that growl in all my places way down low.
Stop it, you hussy, I just fed you.
“I said important family meeting , and she’s here already because she broke in,” Apollo says, side-eyeing me. “I think it’s time we all sat down and had that talk. Laid some of those cards out on the table.”
I don’t miss the way he doesn’t specify whose cards—or the way he only said some —but who would I be to press for more? I honestly would have no leg to stand on there. I also have no desire to feel like the biggest hypocrite in the room.
Hades chooses that moment to finally re-emerge from one of the bedrooms, this one at the opposite end of the suite. He prowls over to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Ares.
Great.
Now that they’re all here—and we’re not trying to beat the clock or dodge a bunch of Suits—I’m all out of reasons to keep stalling.
I pull in a long breath and take a step toward Apollo, wincing as I feel the pull of a wet silk gusset against my sore cunt. I had to choose between putting my saturated lingerie back on or going commando under my pleated skirt.
Ares instantly bristles, side-stepping to block my approach, inked fists curling at his sides.
“I’m not armed with anything but a few tumbler picks,” I offer him with a slanted smile, “and this.” I hold up a folded document between two fingers like it’s poisonous.
And in all the ways that count, it is. That insidious report is the reason nobody I care about has slept in almost five days.
Our fingers brush as he reaches for it, a dubious frown pulling down on his handsome face.
As he unfolds it and takes in the laboratory logo at the top of the first page, that frown morphs into one of concern. He takes a moment to scan the tabled data there before flipping over to the second sheet, where I know the interpretation of the results is printed. Then he reads it again.
“Tris,” he calls, lowly.
Apollo immediately moves to his side, Hades a silent ghost at his other shoulder. Hermes, however, is still doing his best impression of an armchair burrito, watching us over the edge of his blanket.
Ares hands the paperwork to his best friend. “I don’t know man, it looks legit, but who knows if it’s been faked.”
I don’t think Apollo’s regal face has ever looked more like a statue’s than it does right now. Fine marble features freeze; his pale cheeks hollow, and his strong jawline set in place as he, too, scans the document.
But just like those already threatening the hard shell of my resolve, I can see the tiny cracks forming along the stone walls of his composure.
His eyes flick up to mine.
Ocean blue Grayson eyes.
Not as crystalline as his brother’s, and not as dark as his father’s, either. But a stunning compromise between the two.
“It’s verified?”
I nod. “Your brother had our tech guy quadruple-check. It was a legitimate test and the results reported don’t show signs of tampering.”
“What about the sample itself?” Apollo asks with another frown.
I pull a face. “It’s a private laboratory, they’re not required to store samples indefinitely. They destroy all material after three years.”
“So, there’s a ch?—”
I sigh, waving off Ares’s skepticism. “Look, I know it’d be nice and easy if the test was faked. But Sebastian is obsessed with his legacy and keeping it in his bloodline. Why would he go to the trouble of falsifying DNA when he could just create his heir and spares the old-fashioned way?” I spread my hands. “For all we know, he went out and knocked up a bunch of women, and you just happened to win the birth race.”
My stomach fizzes at the thought of that. We already had one heir whose life was in danger of being made forfeit. We didn’t need another.
“Besides, have you guys ever seen a picture of Lexington’s Mayor? Both of his biological sons are the spitting image of him.” Crossing my arms, I turn to look directly at Apollo. “You’re a Grayson, Tristan.”
Ares doesn’t say anything, just stares down at the papers in Apollo’s hands. “Maybe we should go see your mom, Tris.”
Apollo’s cheek jumps, but he still hasn’t looked away from me. By the looks of it, his mind is attempting to fill in the most likely series of events that would’ve led to Rosaline Porter-Sinclair being forced to carry, birth, and raise the child of the fucking Gray Man.
He shutters those thoughts and smoothes his face.
“And the Labors?” he asks, deliberately pushing the conversation away from his mother.
“That’s mostly why I came here to speak to you,” I reply, doing my best to plaster on my most abashed look. I can’t help the chuckle, though. “When nobody answered, I couldn’t resist a little snooping.”
Ares glares at me. “Try harder next time, Winters.”
“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same, knowing my connections,” I snark back at him. I bet he’d be the first to toss my room, given half a chance. And he wouldn’t bother to hide the mess, either.
His eyes dart to the armchair where Hermes sits, giving him right away.
“I knew it!” I crow. “I bet he had my file pulled the moment I stepped foot on campus.”
Ares has the grace to look a little sheepish at that. “At least I didn’t come to your room to “talk” with a B he still needs fodder for his information machine.”
“That’s a lot of trade secrets you just so willingly handed over,” he sneers. By the sound of his roughened voice, he’s still very much questioning my motives. “Are you also the reason we’ve got dead girls showing up in the Academy bathrooms all of a sudden?”
I blatantly ignore that last jab. They don’t need to know all the ways I’ve fucked up, just the basics of why I’m here. “Sebastian asked me to, remember?” I remind him. “But that’s not the only reason.”
I push to stand and Ares straightens with a scowl. Apollo just watches me carefully from beneath dark lashes when I take a step forward.
“The Gray Men used to value discretion and shadow work above all else. But greed always wins, and even before this announcement, my Crewmates and I saw the writing on the wall. The Suits are desperate for the Crown—Labors or no—and they’re heading down a path that we don’t want to follow. Your father has started picking up on that resistance, and it’s only a matter of time before the Gray Man starts cleaning house.”
“So what’s next, then?” Apollo asks, spreading his hands before him.
I have to bite my lip to hide the little rush of excitement the idea of having their full cooperation gives me.
Clearing my throat, I pull my phone out, opening up a new group chat with the four of them. “Come to this address on Sunday afternoon.”
“What’s there?” Apollo frowns down at his own screen as I make my way to their dorm’s front door.
“We need to prepare for the release of the roster and the announcement of the first Labor.” I pause with my hand on the handle. “And you can meet your older half-brother properly this time.”