Apollo (Discarded Heroes: Scions #2)

Chapter 1

Two Years Ago

Sterling, Virginia

Depositing his seventy-pound ruck just inside the foyer, Owen Metcalfe kicked the door shut behind him. “Mom?” He shed his backpack, never slowing as he aimed for the kitchen. “Mom, you here?”

Lights out, fridge humming noisily like always, the kitchen offered little welcome as he slid his truck keys onto the island. He checked the living room and hall for signs of life but came up empty. Huh. Where was she?

The rumble of his gut had him tug open the fridge and eye the contents.

He grabbed a piece of leftover pizza. It wasn’t the on-the-fly fast-food kind that he’d had too many times on his last rotation, but the mom-and-pop, legit Italian place that was a Metcalfe staple.

Folding the slice in half, he grabbed a paper towel and headed to the stairs.

“Mom?” He stuffed half the pizza into his mouth and chewed, waiting for her response before ambling to the sliding glass doors that led to the North Forty backyard.

The place his aunts and uncles had played many a game growing up. Nothing.

“So much for a ‘welcome home,’” he muttered and took another bite. Back in the kitchen, crust sticking out of his mouth, he snagged the last slice. “Serves you right for not being here—”

The heavy thrum of the garage door rising reverberated through the house. He tossed the last piece back in the box and headed into the garage bay. Over the roof of her silver SUV, he saw Mom step out and move to the rear hatch. “Need help?”

His mom’s brown head and eyes swiveled his direction. She gave him a broad smile. “Hello, handsome.” Retrieving a satchel, she walked over and waved him into her arms for a hug as the hatch shut. “I thought you weren’t getting released on leave till tomorrow.”

He bent down to accept the embrace and kissed her cheek. “Got things tied up quicker than expected.” Please don’t ask if I’m okay. Or about the future.

“I’m glad.” She eyed him with an assessing look, then started into the house. “I take it you already raided the pizza.”

“One slice.”

“Dad left it for you, so have at it.”

His phone buzzed, indicating a text, and he eyed the screen.

Sophia

Glad you’re back. Bonfire at the ranch. 8pm. You’re my date.

With a sniff, he shook his head, hit the garage door button, and stepped inside. “Soph’s having a bonfire again.”

Mom nodded. “The twins’ graduation party.”

Dude, already? “Oh, right.”

His mom turned as she drew a glass down from the cabinet and arched an eyebrow. “You going?”

“Apparently I’m her date, so I guess so.” He opted to snag the last slice after all.

“Will you two ever make it real?” Mom asked as she filled her glass with filtered water from the fridge.

“Negative,” he chortled, biting back the laugh at the way his mom gave him a concerned look. “She’s my sister.”

“Tala is your sister,” Mom corrected. “Who’s doing great, by the way, not that you asked.”

“Tala is always okay,” he said. His half sister had gone off to New York to pursue a career in art and never looked back other than to provide occasional updates so Dad didn’t track her down and get in her face about communication and familial bonds.

“But Sophia Neeley is not your sister.” Hair down past her shoulders, Mom looked smart in a blouse and slacks. Had she been to an appointment? “There is no biological connection there, and—”

“Like I need you to tell me that.” Owen sagged beneath her blinding flash of the obvious.

“That dog will never hunt. She’s always been the kid sister I never had.

And Scions have a strict no-dating rule.

Too weird.” He grimaced and shuddered. “With Soph, I run interference for her at parties. Dudes are always in her face, asking for a date.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you two to—”

“Nope.” He waved a hand in the air and nuked the pizza. “Not doing this. I’ve got another year on my contract, and nothing happens till then.” Though he had hoped to make Selection and go career with the Rangers, that hadn’t happened. And now failure hung over his head like an anvil.

In two large bites, he finished off the pizza and went for a protein bar from the pantry. The Spidey sense said Mom was about to unlock “mom mode” and start drilling him with questions and lectures, so he needed to beat her to the gate. “You look nice. Last-minute meeting?”

“Nice diversion,” she said with a wry smile. “I was visiting Uncle Stone.”

“Cool, how’s he doing?”

“He and Brighton are expecting again,” she said, shaking her head, clearly aware he was still diverting.

“Isn’t he, like, too old for that?”

She arched an eyebrow. “He’s only a few years older than your dad.”

“Exactly.” Owen knew Dad was sensitive about his age. “Uncle Stone’ll need a walker to get to his kid’s graduation.”

Mom yanked a towel from where it hung on the oven handle and snapped it at him. “You menace.”

Laughing, he held up his hands. “Seriously,” he said around a laugh. “I’m glad he’s happy.” He remembered the brooding Uncle Stone too well, and the tension radiating through the family after the scandal broke. “So, was it just a casual chat or was this about the trafficking shelter?”

She nodded, peeling an orange. “He asked if I could work my connections on the Hill to make some more headway on improving anti-trafficking laws.”

“Yeah?” He wolfed down the bar and pitched the wrapper. “You going to do it?”

She drew her hair into a ponytail, a sure sign she was getting down to business.

He’d need to bug out before it got tense in here.

“Not sure. I know it needs to be done, but I’m not sure I have the time in my schedule to do it justice.

Agreed I’d look into it.” And then, just like that, she folded her arms and launched her heat-seeking missile.

“So, you’re home. Since Rangers didn’t work out… what’re you planning?”

What little air was left in his chest deflated. “Mom, c’mon. I’m home ten minutes and—”

“I know you, Owen Navas, and the longer you think about something, the worse it gets. You’re like your father—a man of action. Sitting around doesn’t help.”

That was the thing of it—he wasn’t like Dad. God knows he’d tried to be. Believed that same tough mettle was in him, but Uncle Sam disagreed. Selection board disagreed. “Just let a guy breathe, ’kay?”

Quiet settled between them, but that blaze in her eyes said she wasn’t going to leave it alone. “You’re not a failure.”

Bam—right for the heart. “I, uh…” He aimed for the living room. “Gotta get the rest of my gear from the truck and grab a shower before heading to the ranch.” He kept moving, not looking back. Avoiding the Mom look. Mom guilt. She was an expert at it.

Later that night, he made his way out to the Neeley ranch.

Long before turning off the county road, he spotted the raging bonfire.

That and the fifty or so cars lining the gravel driveway.

“What in blue blazes…?” he muttered as he lumbered past the many vehicles.

Finally found a place to park his Raptor, cut the engine, and stared out beyond the hood that even now caught the firelight in the reflection.

The old barn had been converted into a wedding and party venue, staying pretty busy.

Soph had helped her mom with the business and had a good head and eye for it.

Light and music filtered out from the buzzing barn, spreading its revelry toward the riding corral.

A lot of people—way too many, in his opinion—loitered there.

For a half second, he wondered if sitting at home and getting an earful from Mom might be less painful than this. Probably.

A lone figure striding toward him squelched the idea, especially when she waved at him. Soph. Wearing jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt, she let her hair loose in waves down past her shoulders. She looked pretty.

Abandoning the thought of bugging out, he exited the truck and met her halfway.

She leapt at him, wrapping thin arms around his neck, and laughed. “You made it!” Her blonde hair smelled of smoke from the bonfire. “About doggone time.”

“You didn’t give me much warning,” he said, releasing her.

She swung around behind him, caught his shoulders, and hiked up on his back for a piggyback. Arms looped around his neck, she rested her face near his. “Someone didn’t tell me he’d be coming home. Or I would’ve had it all planned, the million ways you can save me at the party.”

“Huh. Wonder why he didn’t tell you…”

She lightly popped the other side of his head. “How long you here for?”

“Couple weeks.” Arms hooked behind her legs, he hoisted her into a better position. “Ben or Dill here?”

“Ben, yes, but as usual, he’s ticked at Dad and pouting in some corner, no doubt. But Dillon…”

At her tone, he angled to look into her eyes. “What?”

“Your parents haven’t told you?”

He frowned and let her down, considering her seriously. Had a bad feeling about this. Dillon had been in communication on and off, but that wasn’t unusual. “What’s happened?”

“He vanished two months ago after an argument with Auntie Syd.”

Slowing, Owen huffed and looked at the night sky, guilt haranguing him.

Soph gaped at him, those green eyes piercing. “You knew and didn’t say a thing? Even to the Scions?”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” he balked.

She slapped his shoulder. “Usually, thinking is your strong suit.” She clucked her tongue, looped their arms, and resumed walking. “Apparently, he told Auntie Syd he was going to find his dad.”

“Holy…” He swiped a hand over his mouth, still unable to believe Dillon really thought he could resurrect the dead.

“Nobody’s heard from him since,” Sophia said as they neared the barn and pulsing music. “Because he’s an adult, local authorities can’t do a single thing.”

“Maybe I need to try to reach out.”

“You know he won’t tell you anything. Of the Scions, he’s always been the most stubborn.”

“Says the girl who held her breath till she passed out when she didn’t get her way.”

Her green eyes widened. “I was four!”