Run
PRUE
Hyperion had sliced into Prue’s lips with his blade before she finally admitted what she and Mona had done.
And after that, he had cut off her left ear, claiming she could keep her tongue but still deserved punishment for what she’d done.
The pain was so all-consuming that she couldn’t think. She couldn’t see straight. The ache on the side of her head pounded with a throb that seemed to have its own pulse. Every sound, every movement, only exacerbated the feeling.
Goddess, she just wanted to die. Just to take away the pain.
She had managed to rip a large chunk of her tunic, then held it against her ear to staunch the blood flow. But even that was too much effort, and she wound up curling up on the floor, pressing her head against the wad of fabric.
The chaos of the following events passed by in a haze. Screams and shouts. Thundering footsteps. Mona was there, her hands on Prue, trying to lift her. Prue wanted to help, to stand on her own feet, but she was so damn weak. The agony splitting through her was unbearable.
Mona urged her to move, and Prue’s feet shuffled forward. With each step, her strength seemed to rekindle. Her head still throbbed, but her legs were fine. She could walk.
By the time they reached the window, Prue felt well enough to wriggle through—at least, with Mona’s help.
And when she heard the Titans talking and realized Cyrus had come for her, hope crept into her chest.
Followed immediately by dread.
“What is he doing?” Prue hissed to Mona. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
Mona’s eyes were distant, and Prue could tell she was thinking hard. “Evander must be with him. He wouldn’t have let Cyrus go alone.” She looked around, as if Evander would magically appear beside them.
“A diversion?” Prue asked, horror leeching into her thoughts. Just like her, Cyrus was offering himself up as bait.
Prue’s plan had gone to shit. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Cyrus’s plan failed, too.
Lightning ignited in the sky. Prue glanced up, realizing the strikes were from Cyrus, not the Titans.
“We have to do something.” Prue shifted, trying to step forward, but a burst of pain sliced through her. She groaned, raising a hand to the wound in the side of her head. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped, but the injury felt like it was on fire.
Mona gripped her arm tightly and shook her head. “We aren’t doing anything. If they catch us, it’s over. The best thing we can do for Cyrus and Evander is to stay hidden. Otherwise the Titans will have leverage over them.”
The shout of a Titan made Mona and Prue jump.
“Where is he?” the Titan roared. Prue recognized Hyperion’s voice, and she closed her eyes, nausea roiling through her. She recalled his wicked grin as he carved the knife through her flesh.
Mona’s hands were on Prue’s shoulders, squeezing her to awaken her from the nightmare. Prue shook her head and took a long, shaky breath.
“I see his lightning strikes,” said the other Titan. Oceanus maybe? Prue couldn’t tell. “I can smell him. But I don’t know where he is.”
“Idiots,” Hyperion seethed. “Find him. He can’t hide from all of us.”
Prue met Mona’s gaze and widened her eyes. What did this mean? How was Cyrus staying out of sight?
A voice roared nearby, one Prue knew in her bones. Her very soul quaked from the intensity of it, and her body yearned to draw closer to him.
“I am here!” Cyrus bellowed, his voice deep and powerful. “Shall we negotiate? Or are you too frightened to face me?”
What the hell is he doing? Prue thought, her heart racing. As if expecting her to bolt, Mona pinched her arm and shook her head.
“I see him,” Hyperion said. “There. At the edge of the wood. Go, now.”
Heavy footfalls indicated the other Titan had lumbered off. But Prue remained perfectly still, knowing Hyperion was still close by.
She heard him sniff deeply. Then, he chuckled.
“I can smell your blood, little goddess,” he murmured. “You cannot hide from me.”
Shit. Shit.
Mona tugged on Prue’s hand, and the two of them crouched low to the ground, inching backward as quickly and quietly as possible. They rounded the corner of the cottage, then huddled close to the wall.
Hyperion’s footsteps followed. “You think this changes anything? You are still my prisoner. My plaything. And I’ll show that wretched death god exactly how much of your pretty face I can carve up.”
Prue shut her eyes, her stomach churning with vicious intensity. The scrape of his blade. The sharp sting of her blood. The burning, scorching pain. Her broken screams.
Mona’s fingernails dug into Prue’s arm. With a gasp, Prue’s eyes flew open, and she found her sister’s eyes were blazing with fury.
“You are stronger than this,” Mona whispered. “Do not let him win.”
Prue sucked in breath after breath, but the oxygen wouldn’t come. Her lungs strained. Her throat closed. Goddess, she was suffocating. She couldn’t breathe.
Mona’s lips thinned, her gaze filling with despair. “I love you,” she breathed.
Before Prue could stop her, Mona stood, stepping into Hyperion’s path. In a firm, confident voice, Mona said, “It’s not Prue. It’s me.”
Prue pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head as if she could undo Mona’s decision to face the Titan. Goddess, what was she doing? She would get herself killed!
I love you, she’d said.
Perhaps that was precisely what Mona intended to do.
“I smell her,” Hyperion sneered. “Not you. Your attempt at trickery is feeble.”
“Her blood is on my clothes. That’s what you smell. I told her to run.”
Hyperion hesitated, as if he almost believed Mona’s words.
Prue’s pulse thundered loudly, and she feared it would give her away. She remained crouched there like a fool, a coward, letting her sister fight this battle for her.
Get up! she screamed at herself. Mona is right. Do not let him win!
“Perhaps you’re right,” Hyperion mused. “But you can still be of use to me. After all, you haven’t been acquainted with my blade just yet. We should remedy the situation.”
Panic flooded Prue’s veins, sending sharp clarity to her mind. She scanned the dead grass around her, searching for a weapon, for something she could use against Hyperion.
She was too weak to cast a runic spell. But perhaps there was something else.
Her eyes landed on a shard of glass from when Mona had shattered the window. Prue snatched it up, then flattened herself against the wall, trying to steady her breathing.
“If you touch me…” Mona said.
“What will you do?” Hyperion chuckled. “Your lover isn’t here to save you. It’s just the king. And we both know who he’ll choose.”
Mona took a shuddering breath, and the sound wrenched through Prue’s chest. She gritted her teeth, loathing the Titan with every fiber of her being.
She would not let this monster hurt her sister. She would not allow him to spill any more blood.
Rage flowed through her, powerful and violent. Before she could overthink it, Prue darted out from behind the building. Hyperion leered over Mona, mere inches away from her, his bloody blade raised. His eyes shifted to Prue and widened slightly.
But she didn’t stop. With a shriek, she lunged for him, colliding with his broad chest. She slammed into him so hard that her head jolted and her skull rattled from the impact. Pain shot through her, and the space where her ear had been now pulsed with agony.
The force of her strike sent them both tumbling to the ground. Mona cried out her name. Prue slashed the shard of glass, drawing blood from Hyperion’s shoulder. He growled, then swung his dagger. Prue managed to roll off him before he could stab her.
Then Mona was there, a feral cry pouring from her lips.
She pinned down Hyperion’s hand with both of hers, then wrestled the dagger free from his grasp.
Hyperion grunted, shoving at Mona with one meaty arm.
His thrust sent her sprawling in the grass.
With a crack, her head struck a rock, and she collapsed.
Prue wanted to run to Mona’s side, but her sister had given her an opportunity, and she couldn’t waste it. Without bothering to climb to her feet, Prue slammed the jagged piece of glass into Hyperion’s thigh, then twisted it deep. Rivulets of black blood gushed from the wound.
Hyperion howled, the sound piercing the air.
Prue withdrew the glass, then rammed it into his gut. Blood bubbled from his lips as he reached for her, fingers flexing.
Something shattered nearby, and purple smoke drifted in the air. It smelled like… saffron. Prue frowned, then glanced around, her body tense as she expected another fight.
“End him!” shouted a familiar voice. “Prue, end him now!”
Prue gasped as she made out Lagos’s figure amidst the magenta fog. “Lagos? But how—”
“Use your magic!” he urged. “Quickly!”
Prue drew in a breath, only then noticing how free the air felt. Energy crackled through her as her magic soared to life.
It felt just like when Mona had broken through the wards. Prue’s earth magic was back.
With a sigh of relief, she summoned her roots and vines.
They rose from the ground and twisted around Hyperion.
He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to inhale her power as he’d done before.
But Prue slashed the glass across his throat, cutting off his breath.
He choked, blood seeping into the dead grass around him.
His eyes grew wide, and his skin turned ashen.
Prue summoned more of her magic, drawing vines and thorns that tangled around Hyperion’s limbs, anchoring him to the earth. He sputtered and wheezed, trying and failing to draw breath. Prue only glared at him with cold fury as he bled out, her brambles chaining him, preventing him from escaping.
She forced herself to watch until he went perfectly still. Until his eyes rolled back and his body shuddered once before dying.
Even then, she continued to stare at him, just to be certain he was dead.
Hyperion did not move. He did not breathe.
He was dead.