13. Perseus
Perseus
D arkness still blanketed the world outside, but for Perseus, the day had already begun.
In the library, warm with firelight and lined with old hunting trophies and even older books, he stood facing the window while his father poured two mugs of strong black coffee.
“You’re still not sleeping,” Leo said without looking.
Perseus didn’t deny it. He turned from the window, his hair still damp from the sea, his shirt rumpled from not bothering to change after his swim. “My wolf won’t let me.”
Leo handed him the mug. “Because of her.”
A beat of silence.
Perseus exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. It’s not just obsession or guilt anymore. He wants her. Not just…her body. Her.”
Leo leaned against the edge of the desk, his gray-flecked hair catching the firelight. “That usually means something,” he said, voice low but firm.
Perseus looked at him, uncertain for a moment. “You mean my wolf wanting her?”
Leo nodded slowly. “Wolves don’t lie, son. Not to us. They don’t play games. They growl when there’s danger, they pull when there’s purpose. And when they settle, when they choose…” He let the thought trail off, but his meaning was clear.
Perseus stared into the flames for a beat, his father’s words embedding deep in his chest. His wolf hadn’t been at ease since Switzerland. Not truly. Even before that. Only when Medusa had been near.
“It’s easy to trust the instinct when it’s life or death,” Leo went on. “Harder when it’s about something messy. Something like love. But it’s the same instinct. The same truth. And when you ignore it, when you fight it, that’s when you start losing yourself.”
Perseus exhaled slowly. “I thought maybe I was just…confused. Or compromised.”
“You weren’t,” Leo said simply. “You were finally clear.”
He took a long sip, then stared into the mug like it held answers.
“I’ve reviewed everything. The footage from the Swiss ski lodge.
The logs from the security app. The way she moved when it all went sideways—she was trying to get to me.
Not escape. And Theo told me…she looked wrecked. Like she wasn’t in on it at all.”
Leo nodded slowly. “Your brother’s not exactly the sentimental type.”
“No…” Perseus trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze dropped to the floor.
His knee bounced once before he stilled it with a sharp exhale.
“When Eros finally got free of that damned Olympus summit and heard what happened, he went straight to her. He showed up wherever she’d holed herself away.
He got the whole story out of her. The kidnapping, the attack, the confusion, how Medusa fought to get the girls out safely.
” His voice wavered, just a fraction, but he caught it and pressed on.
“Even after what happened between us…she still protected them.”
Leo stayed quiet, but Perseus could feel his father’s eyes on him—steady, assessing.
“Eros told me that when Calliope asked to meet, he got this feeling—it just felt right to him,” Perseus said, his brow furrowing as he remembered. “So he brought her to me, said it felt like something The Fates wouldn’t want him to ignore.”
He looked up at his father, eyes shadowed but steady. “Medusa didn’t run from danger. She ran straight into it for them. That’s not someone who betrayed me. That’s someone who was hurting.”
Leo studied him, his silence filled with understanding. Then he gave a small nod. “Sometimes the truth isn’t what we see first. Sometimes it’s what survives the chaos.”
“Yeah. And I think the part of me that still believed in her…survived.” Perseus nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the flames licking the hearth. “Eros wants answers. He said the attack feels like a coordinated effort. More calculated.”
Leo crossed his arms, his expression darkening. “It’s not just about tracking down geryon bloodlines anymore. Someone wants to disrupt everything—Olympus, the gorgons, maybe even our kind.”
Perseus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And they knew exactly where to strike. The way they came at me…it wasn’t random. They weren’t just trying to kill me—they wanted me to say it out loud. That I was Zeus’s son.”
Leo’s jaw tightened. “A setup.”
“Exactly,” Perseus said. “And Medusa…Calliope said she was caught in the middle of it.”
Leo didn’t respond immediately, but the twitch in his jaw was answer enough. “If Eros is digging, he’ll find something. But until then, you have to be ready for all of it. Including what you’re going to say to her.”
“If I even get the chance,” Perseus swallowed, his throat dry.
“You will,” Leo said, finally pushing off from the desk. “Trust your wolf, son. He’s always known before your head could catch up.”
Perseus looked up at his father, and for a second, the firelight revealed something ancient in their shared gaze. Something primal and wordless—wild instinct, tempered by loyalty. He nodded once.
Leo clapped a hand on Perseus’s shoulder before heading for the door. “Everyone should be up soon for breakfast,” he said. “Better get to the kitchen before Theo eats all the bacon again.” With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him.
Perseus lingered a moment, then pushed to his feet and stepped into the hallway.
The glass walls of the house were awash in the soft light of dawn, casting long, golden shadows across the wooden floors.
It made everything look ethereal, like the whole house hovered on the edge of myth.
His mother really had been a genius when she designed the house.
She hadn’t just built it; she wove it into the land.
Every line, every surface seemed to mirror the trees outside, the distant shore, the rolling fog over the ocean.
Somehow, she’d created a place that breathed with the wildness around them and still managed to feel like home.
He walked slowly, lost in thought, heading toward the garden atrium where the early light always caught the sea spray from the open windows.
Perseus was surprised to see Eros seated at the long marble table in the side atrium, a laptop open in front of him. A mug of something herbal steamed at his elbow.
Eros glanced up as he approached.
“Didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re not,” Eros said, waving him over. “There’s a lot more work to be done now that I’m trying to untangle this whole Zeus mess too. Turns out divinity comes with a ridiculous amount of paperwork when you start asking the wrong questions.”
Perseus came closer, hands in the pockets of his sweats. “I’m ready to get back to work. I need something to do.”
“That’s good,” Eros’s eyes swept over him. “Means you’re steadying again.”
But the word work had already triggered something in Perseus’s chest—a sudden, sharp ache he couldn’t shake.
Because the last time he’d worked with someone, it had been Medusa.
Strategic meetings. Tense missions. Long nights poring over files together, her voice low beside him.
The way her brow furrowed when she focused.
The way her presence made the world feel sharper and quieter all at once.
Just the thought of her name, and something inside him twisted painfully.
Eros noticed. “You okay?”
Perseus hesitated, then said, “Just thinking. Wondering how love could be so damn complicated.”
Eros made a face, somewhere between a smirk and a wince. “If it were simple, I’d be out of a job.”
“Fair enough.” Perseus huffed a dry laugh. “I just…don’t want to mess it up.”
“It already is,” Eros said, not unkindly. “The question is whether you get the chance to fix it.”
Perseus looked away, jaw tightening. But he nodded because the god was right.
And if he did get that chance, he wouldn’t waste it.
He shifted his weight, crossing his arms as he looked past Eros, out toward the slowly brightening trees beyond the glass. “I do wonder how she is,” he said quietly. “And my wolf…he’s mad. Restless. Like something’s missing. Like we’re not where we’re supposed to be.”
“Well, if you want to talk to her, I could help out. Facilitate.”
Perseus turned to him fully, studying him. Even though Eros could be an asshole, he was the god of love, of longing, of the aching thread that tugged people toward one another when they tried to pretend they didn’t care. This wasn’t just any offer.
Perseus hesitated, then asked, “What do you think?”
Eros regarded him in silence, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re already thinking about her when you wake up. You’re still aching, and not just because you’re stubborn. Your wolf knows what your heart’s still trying to deny.”
Perseus exhaled, slow and deep, like the thought itself was too heavy to carry alone.
Eros gave a half-smile, just the right amount of smug. “So, the question isn’t what I think. It’s whether you’re ready to admit you still love her.”
Perseus ran a hand through his damp hair, his jaw tightening for a beat. Then, almost under his breath, he said, “I never stopped thinking about her. Not once. Not even when I wanted to.”
Eros let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You’re really a stubborn asshole, huh?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a shifter if I wasn’t,” Perseus managed a half-smirk. “And on top of that, a son of Zeus? I’ve got to stay true to character.”
Eros grinned. “Yeah, well, don’t let that characteristic keep you from what you want.” He sobered slightly, gaze flickering just a bit more thoughtful. “She’s hoping to talk to you, you know. Even if she won’t admit it, she’s just as bad as you.”
Perseus looked at him sharply. “She is?”
“She’s been trying not to show it.” Eros shrugged. “But I know what longing looks like. It’s kind of my thing.”
Perseus exhaled slowly. “Actually…” his heart thudded like it was gearing up for a sprint. “Can you bring me to her?”
Eros leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. “You’re ready for that too?”
“Yeah,” Perseus nodded. “It’s been enough time. For both of us.”
A pause.
“She’s your mate,” Eros said, watching him closely.