Chapter 22 #2
“Gaia,” she sneered, as if answering me was beneath her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gaia.” I said it with a bright smile and held the drink out to Echo.
She took it and crowed, “Fine, just don’t get any ideas of sticking around too long,” as if she’d won.
“Of course not,” I lied.
I’d added just enough to the drink to make her violently ill. Not enough to kill her. Not this time. But enough to send a message. Enough to make her think twice before touching what was mine again.
I smiled at both girls and thanked them for their time. Then I made my way back to Brock’s side, my heart racing with adrenaline and something darker. Something that felt too much like satisfaction. I looked up at him sweetly as he threw his arm around my shoulder and continued talking to Ares.
Cerberus nudged my hand, and I absently brushed his head. He knew. Could probably smell the poison, the darkness radiating off me in waves. But he didn’t judge. Didn’t pull away. Just pressed closer, offering silent support.
“Hades,” Apollo called out.
My muscles tensed immediately. Something about his voice. The way he said Brock’s road name. The weight behind it.
“Yeah, Lo?”
“Come have a drink. I’d like to get to know your girl.”
Dread pooled in my stomach, cold and heavy.
My muscles locked up, every instinct screaming at me to run.
To get away from whatever this was. Brock rubbed up and down my arm as he told Ares he’d catch him later.
He led me over to a table where we sat down, I assumed to be at eye level with Apollo, who was in a wheelchair.
A prospect dropped off another beer for Brock and an unopened bottle of water for me.
It was all I’d drunk tonight, still unsure about many of the men in the club.
As nice as they’d seemed, I’d been cynical for way too long to just trust blindly.
Couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Not here.
Not anywhere. I didn’t even fully trust Brock—though I hoped one day I could.
Hope was a dangerous thing.
“Violet,” Apollo began.
“Please call me Lettie. Only my mother calls me Violet.”
He must have read something in my tone because he asked, “Does it bother you that your mother calls you Violet?”
“No,” I answered, and he waited for me to explain.
He’d be waiting a long time. I might have a tumultuous relationship with my mother, but I still respected her enough not to talk about her to complete strangers. Even if that respect was born more from obligation than genuine feeling.
“Then why Lettie?”
“I don’t know, it just seemed to fit me better.” The lie came easily. I’d been Lettie for so long now that Violet felt like someone else. Someone softer. Someone who hadn’t learned to protect herself with poison and darkness.
“Where are you from originally?” Apollo asked, and I chuckled.
“Why do I feel like I’m getting the third degree?
” My tone was meant to be light, but inside I was bristling.
Every question felt like a probe, like he was searching for something specific.
Cerberus must have noticed because he whined and stared up at me.
I ran a hand over his big head, hoping it would ease the tension he was picking up on as anxiety crawled through my veins.
“Apollo is the club chaplain,” Brock explained. “He likes to learn whatever he can about everyone. He’s not actually a therapist, but he might have missed his calling.” He said it like this was nothing new for Apollo.
But something deep inside me said it was different this time.
Apollo wasn’t just trying to get to know me.
He was looking for something. What that something was, I couldn’t be sure, but I’d make damn sure he didn’t find it.
Whatever secrets he was hunting for, I’d bury them deeper.
Hide them better. Protect myself the way I always had.
“We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Single mom trying to make ends meet, working her way through any man willing to give her a second look. My birth certificate says Utah.” I shrugged.
“I’m originally from Idaho myself.”
“You didn’t grow up in Texas?” I asked, trying to be engaging. Trying to deflect attention away from myself and back onto him.
He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table. “Nah, my dad and I moved here when I was fourteen. He joined the club when I was fifteen, and I started prospecting at sixteen.”
“That seems young.”
“HADES,” Zeus yelled.
Brock stood and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll be right back, baby.”
I nodded, my nerves pulling even tighter being left alone with Apollo. Exposed. Without Brock as a buffer between me and whatever this man was searching for. When I turned back, Apollo was watching me intently, his eyes boring into mine like he could see straight through to my soul.
“You said you and your dad moved here. What about your mom?” I asked, thinking what was good for the goose. If he wanted to dig into my past, I’d dig into his.
“My mom passed away right before we moved here. It’s why we moved here, actually.”
“I’m so sorry.” I reached over instinctively, placing my hand over his. The gesture was automatic. Genuine sympathy flooded through me despite my suspicions. “Was she sick?”