17. The Shadows Return
The Shadows Return
Alexander
The New York skyline should have felt like home.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the jet’s window and watched the city grow larger beneath us. Twelve hours since Samos. Twelve hours of my father’s silence, of stewing in my own guilt and inadequacy.
I hadn’t changed clothes. Andie’s heat-scent still clung to my shirt. I couldn’t bring myself to wash her off my skin. Zeus only knew when I’d get to smell her again.
“We’re beginning our descent,” the pilot announced through the intercom. “Touchdown at Teterboro in fifteen minutes, Lord Stormwright. The chopper is standing by.”
Argos stirred in the seat across from me. He’d slept for most of the flight, or pretended to. Now his eyes found mine with the calculating weight I’d grown up dreading.
“You’ll need to pull yourself together before we land.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re covered in dried blood, and you smell like an Omega in heat.” He didn’t soften the words. “The staff will talk. The Council has ears everywhere.”
I looked down at my arms. The gouges from Andie’s nails had scabbed over, dark lines crossing my forearms like a map of her desperation. “Let them talk.”
“Alexander.” My father’s voice sharpened. “Self-pity is a luxury we cannot afford. Whatever happened on Samos, you are still the head of House Zeus. Act like it.”
The jet banked toward the New Jersey runway. Somewhere across the river, in a building of glass and steel that bore our family name, my life waited to resume its normal shape. Meetings. Politics. The endless chess game of Olympian power.
None of it mattered. Not anymore.
But I straightened in my seat anyway. I rolled down my sleeves to cover the wounds. I composed my face into something that might pass for control.
My father nodded once, satisfied.
Twenty minutes later, the jet's tires hit the tarmac. We barely broke stride, walking straight from the cabin steps through the biting wind to the waiting House helicopter. Soon we were airborne again, the rhythmic thrum of the blades vibrating through the cabin as Manhattan tilted beneath us.
We landed on the private helipad atop Stormwright Tower as the sun began its descent toward the Hudson. Nikos was already waiting for us. “We have a problem.”
I stepped off the helicopter and let the familiar weight of New York settle around me. After the disaster in Samos, I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worse. “What kind of problem?” I asked.
“Robert Cross is in your office.” Nikos fell into step beside me as we crossed toward the rooftop entrance. “He arrived three hours ago with Elias Swift. They have a House Hermes representative with them.”
I stopped walking.
Robert Cross. Andie’s father. The man who’d hated me from the moment he learned I existed. He’d looked at me in that hospital waiting room like I was a disease that had infected his daughter. He’d been right to hate me. I’d proven him right over and over again.
And now I had to face him with his daughter’s blood still under my fingernails.
“House Hermes?” Argos asked sharply. “Elias reached out to his old House?”
“It appears so,” Nikos said, holding the door open. “He made the arrangements with his cousin, Loren Swift. Whatever happened on Samos, he’s decided talking isn’t enough anymore.”
The elevator ride down to my office took thirty-seven seconds. I counted each one. Argos stood beside me, radiating the cold authority that had built House Zeus into what it was. Nikos kept his eyes forward, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“What do they want?” I asked, though I already knew.
“Andromeda.” Nikos paused. “And answers we probably can’t give them.”
The elevator doors opened onto the executive floor. My assistant rose from her desk, mouth opening to speak. I walked past her without stopping. Whatever she had to say could wait.
The doors to my office were closed. Two figures stood guard outside—my own security. Whoever was inside had been allowed in deliberately. I pushed through without knocking.
Robert Cross stood in the center of the room like a man braced for war. Behind him, Elias Swift sat in one of the leather chairs, his prosthetic leg stretched out in front of him. And in the corner, perfectly still, Loren Swift waited with the patient attention of a predator watching prey.
He was one of the most well-known Betas in House Hermes and a favored messenger for the Olympian Council. In hindsight, it was a little embarrassing I hadn’t realized he was related to Elias until now.
But the Olympian House element wasn’t relevant right now. I ignored Loren and focused on Andie’s parents. “Dr. Cross. Mr. Swift. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Where is my daughter?”
Robert crossed the distance between us in three strides. He stopped close enough that I could see the sleepless nights carved into his face.
“Where is Andromeda?”
“You know where she is. She’s being cared for. At the Heraion, under Helena’s supervision—”
“Cared for.” Robert laughed, sharp and ugly. “Helena told us the same thing when she took Andie to that island. That she’d be cared for. That she’d be safe. And yet, Helena has been refusing to let us see her for weeks.”
He stopped and swallowed hard. For a moment, the fury gave way to something rawer. The terror of a father watching his child slip away.
“I want her back,” he snarled. “I don’t care about your politics or your curses or whatever the hell Helena thinks she’s doing. I want my daughter home. You’re not helping her. I know it.”
I had no answer for him. Everything he said was true. But at the same time, returning Andie to them would solve nothing. The curse would still consume her. The madness would still claim her mind.
“The situation is being handled,” Argos said. “Helena is the matriarch of House Hera. She has authority over—”
“She has authority over nothing.” Robert spun on my father with renewed venom. “Andie isn’t House Hera property. She’s my daughter. Mine and Elias’s. Helena gave up any claim to her a long time ago.”
“Robert.”
Elias’s voice cut through the room, so cold it sent shivers down my spine.
Robert turned to his husband, chest heaving. “Elias—”
“You know he won’t listen to you.” Elias rose from the chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Andie was right about that, at least. House Zeus only listens to its own politics. Its own kind.”
He made his way to Robert’s side, but his attention had shifted to my father. To Loren Swift in the corner. To the larger game being played.
“We tried asking,” Elias continued. “We tried appealing to Helena’s maternal instincts. We tried trusting she’d handle this situation with something resembling decency.” His mouth twisted. “We were naive.”
“Mr. Swift—” I started.
“I’m not finished.” Elias cut me off. “I left House Hermes a long time ago. I wanted nothing to do with Olympian politics. I wanted to raise my daughter in peace, away from the games and the casual cruelty of people like you.”
He gestured at my father. At me. At the office around us with its glass, steel, and carefully cultivated authority.
“But you dragged her into it anyway. All of you. Helena with her secrets. House Zeus with its obsession. And now our daughter is on an island none of us can reach, and the only language any of you understand is politics.”
He turned to Loren Swift. Something passed between them—acknowledgment, agreement, a signal I couldn’t read.
“So politics it is.”
Loren pushed off from the wall. “House Hermes has been observing this situation with growing concern,” he said.
His voice carried the formal cadence of official business.
“An Omega of House Hera descent held against the will of her legal guardians. She is now in a facility controlled by a House matriarch who has declared unilateral lockdown.”
“What are you talking about?” Argos asked. “Helena is her mother.”
“Incorrect. Dr. Cross and Mr. Swift are her legal parents.” Loren’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They have not consented to her detention. Under Olympian law, this constitutes unlawful imprisonment.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“Perhaps. But it’s a stretch the Council will have to evaluate.
” Loren glanced at Elias. “The Beta Houses have concerns about how Omega welfare is being handled. House Zeus was involved in triggering Miss Cross’s current crisis.
Previously, House Hera was the greatest advocate for an Omega’s happiness and freedom.
But that no longer seems to be the case.
These seem like excellent matters to raise formally. ”
“You would take this to the Council?” I asked in disbelief. “Make it a political spectacle?”
“We would do whatever is necessary to secure Andromeda’s safety,” Loren shot back. “Unless House Zeus has a better solution. Unless you are prepared to intervene with House Hera on behalf of Miss Cross’s actual family.”
I opened my mouth to respond—to say what, I didn’t know—when the lights flickered.
The shadows in the corners of my office deepened and began to move in unnatural patterns. My hackles instantly rose. I’d seen that type of manifestation before.
Robert stepped back instinctively, pulling Elias with him. Loren Swift went very still, and my father’s lightning flared brighter. I prepared myself for the unavoidable battle.
And from the darkness behind my desk, two figures emerged.
Damon Blackwood stepped into the light first. The shadows clung to him like living things, reluctant to release their master. By his side stood a woman who assessed the room with predatory efficiency. Elara Blackwood. Damon’s cousin, his security chief, his head of intelligence.
Two House Hades Alphas, in my territory, with no invitation. This could easily be grounds for a war between Houses.
“Lord Blackwood,” I said, “this is House Zeus territory.”
“I’m aware, Lord Stormwright.” Damon grinned as if he found my warning very amusing. “You look terrible.”
“I’ve had a difficult few days.”
“Yes, we’re aware.”