11. Artemis
11 ARTEMIS
Just do it.
Taking a deep breath, I peel the bandage off my shoulder.
“What the fuck?” I stare at my skin, then meet my own damn gaze in the mirror.
Because I’ve been duped.
Tricked. I rip the last corner of the bandage off and ball it up.
There’s nothing but damn red scratch marks in my skin.
No ink to speak of— nothing except a few spots where pinpoint-fine dots of blood have welled up.
I sat through that tattoo.
I hurt through that tattoo.
I questioned what he was going to put on me, and a sad part actually was thrilled that he would want to do it.
Even under the circumstances.
I grit my teeth, only pausing for a moment before lurching out of the bathroom and striding across my condo to Saint’s room.
He’s going to pay for this.
I hammer my fists on his closed door.
Impatience takes over, and I shove it open without waiting for his reply.
And stop dead.
He’s sound asleep.
It is a normal time for people to be sleeping, I guess—a little past one in the morning—but I’m wired for the night.
The room is dark, save for the path of light that cuts across it and shines on his face.
The peaceful face of someone with no worries.
Not sleeping anyway.
The furrow between his brows that I’ve grown so accustomed to seeing is smooth, his lips barely parted.
Earbuds play piano music that I can hear—tinny but audible.
They must’ve easily blocked out my pounding.
Irked and caught off guard, I waver in the doorway.
When’s the last time he actually slept?
Even though he’s probably going to go deaf from listening to music at such a loud volume.
I heave a sigh. He did this to irritate me—to get a rise out of me.
And it worked. Which means I one hundred percent cannot give him what he wants.
A reaction.
Stepping back, I slowly close his door again.
Leaving him to his dreams. Or nightmares.
Instead of going to bed, I change clothes and head down to my bike.
It’s that or drink, and I don’t want to be that person.
The city is quiet. Everyone is sleeping, even the college students.
I whip past the university, heading into West Falls.
This side of town was once ruled by the Titans, and now it feels unusually tense.
I don’t see the truck in time.
It comes out of nowhere, headlights bursting on a second before it clips the back of my bike.
The engine roars in my ears, the lights searing my eyes.
The bike wobbles, but somehow I keep it upright.
I coast to a stop and hop off.
I’m shaking, but I ball my fists and face the truck.
What the fuck is their problem?
It could be some drunk idiot who didn’t see me—but by the way it’s idling in the middle of the road…
a bad feeling overtakes me.
I can’t see past the lights who’s driving.
Or how many people are in the car.
Something is wrong.
The engine revs, which is the only warning I get.
The vehicle shoots forward, aimed straight for me.
The street we’re on has houses close together, everyone has chain-link fences blocking their yards, their cars pulled under covered driveways or in garages.
Empty.
Silent.
The neighborhood is holding its breath.
I dive out of the way, managing to lift my body up and over the chain-link fence.
I land hard in the grass and roll, keep rolling, until I hear the sickening crunch of metal.
My bike.
I dig my fingers into the grass, tempted to push myself up, but then the truck window lowers.
“This is our neighborhood,” a man spits.
He’s bald, pale white skin, with tattoos across his forehead and under his eyes.
“We see you here again, you’ll get a bullet instead of a warning.”
The truck reverses.
I tear my helmet off and drop it to the ground, swearing under my breath.
We knew this could happen.
In the wake of the Titans’ end, it created an opening for some new gang to slip in.
And try as my brother and his friends might, they weren’t able to stop it.
I shiver and flex my fingers.
My hands are shaking.
The Titans sucked. But with Kronos, their leader, there was familiarity.
His guys regularly fought at Olympus—disguised, sure, but we knew who they were.
The Hell Hounds, too, run by Wolfe’s father.
The lines were blurred in the neutral areas of the city, and Olympus offered an outlet.
Better than them killing each other on the streets, right?
Now, the power vacuum that my brother, Jace, and Wolfe left behind seems glaringly obvious.
I use the gate to get back onto the sidewalk and touch my elbow.
My fingers come away wet with blood, even through my jacket.
It takes a minute for the pain to hit—my adrenaline is still soaring.
The bike has fared much worse than me, though.
It’s mangled past disuse.
“Are you okay?” Across the street, a woman pokes her head out of her door.
A dim light spills out behind her, giving her a silhouetted appearance.
I automatically move toward her.
“I’m fine.”
She stiffens, like me coming closer is a bad thing.
“Best be going back to your side of the Falls, dear.”
“What does that mean?”
She gestures.
“You’re marked. One of them . They’ve made it clear that they won’t tolerate…”
“Who won’t tolerate…?”
“They call themselves the Cyclopes.” She shudders.
“Didn’t you see what they did to?—”
Abruptly, she cuts herself off.
Her head turns, tracking another car that coasts down from the top of the street.
Patrol?
My skin prickles.
She slams the door. The scrape of her deadbolt is audible from here.
Swallowing sharply, I press myself to the shadows and watch the car.
It turns down another street, headlights swinging away.
As soon as it’s out of sight, I jog in the direction of the university.
I pat my pockets, cursing that I didn’t think to bring my phone with me.
Cyclopes.
What did they do?
To who ?
I have to hide three more times before I make it to the university.
The sheriff’s office is nearby, and I head for it.
I don’t give a shit that it’s the middle of the night—he has to know about this.
One of his deputies can get him there faster than I could.
But when I arrive, his car is already in the parking lot.
Butterflies—the bad kind—take wing behind my rib cage.
I ignore my apprehension and keep moving.
Going back just isn’t an option.
I get to his office and pause just beyond the open doorway.
His secretary’s desk is dark and unmanned, but light spills from his.
Voices, too.
I peek around the corner, and my shoulders hike.
Seated across from Bradshaw’s large desk is Jace King.
My brother’s best friend.
The urge to burst in is overwhelming until I catch what they’re talking about.
“They’ve been missing for almost a week,” Jace tells the sheriff.
“It’s not like them.”
I bite my lip.
“They could’ve just left town,” Nathan points out.
“You run a tight ship. Maybe they wanted out. I’m not sure why you decided to storm in here in the middle of the night.”
“It’s not like we initiate them,” Jace growls.
“We pay them for their information. And I’m here because you’ve been avoiding my calls.”
The informants?
Suddenly, Wolfe telling me that they went missing rings in my ears.
And the woman’s ominous words about what they did to who .
Does Jace not know about the Cyclopes?
Does the sheriff not?
A chill sweeps down my spine, and I step back.
Growing up in Sterling Falls, I knew the sheriff’s office was corrupt and Jace knew everything.
Wolfe, Apollo, Jace…
they had their fingers on the pulse of Sterling Falls.
“How’s Kora?” Nathan asks suddenly.
I shake my head in disgust. I love Kora, I do—but now’s not the time to ask about her.
Not when I have a feeling something bad has just arrived in Sterling Falls…
and they’ve decided to make it their new home.