FROM DARKNESS

HEARTS & ARROWS 3

STACI HART

Copyright © 2013-2017 Staci Hart

All rights reserved.

stacihartnovels.com

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover by Quirky Bird

Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

Proofreading: Love N Books

Photography: Perrywinkle Photography

Playlist: http://spoti.fi/2fh8WyZ

Pin Board: http://bit.ly/2jRxl3p

CONTENTS

More Books by Staci Hart

Preface

Prologue

1. Day 1

2. Day 2

3. Day 3

4. Day 4

5. Day 5

6. Day 6

7. Day 7

8. Day 8

9. Day 9

10. Day 10

11. Day 11

12. Day 12

13. Day 13

14. Day 21

Epilogue

Enjoy With A Twist?

Acknowledgments

Also by Staci Hart

About the Author

MORE BOOKS BY STACI HART

CONTEMPORARY STANDALONES

With a Twist (Bad Habits)

Chaser (Bad Habits)

Last Call (Bad Habits)

Wasted Words

Tonic

A Thousand Letters

Bad Penny

A Little Too Late

Hardcore

HEARTS AND ARROWS

Paper Fools (Book 1)

Shift (Book 2)

What the Heart Wants (Novella 2.5)

From Darkness (Book 3)

Fool’s Gold (Novella 3.5)

SHORT STORIES

Once

Desperate Measures

Nailed

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To Elyse Schramm, who loves unicorns so much.

They’re basically her favorite thing ever.

#skinhorse

You may

blame Aphrodite

soft as she is

she has almost

killed me with

love for that boy

—Sappho

PROLOGUE

“DOUCHE VON GOBBLECOCK.”

PERRY burst out laughing from her beach towel and sat up, propping herself on her elbows. She tilted her face to the sun.

“Okay, okay, um…Dongle McDicklicker.”

“Ooh. Good one.” Dita stretched out on her stomach, slipped her sunglasses off, and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “Penis McFrankfurter.”

Perry giggled. “Ares would not be amused by our new nicknames for him, and I don’t even care.”

Dita’s chest tightened at the sound of his name. “I thought we agreed not to say Fitz Von Landingstrip’s actual name.”

She offered an apologetic glance. “Sorry. I’ll get used to using Beaver Du Cockburn’s sobriquets.” Perry adjusted a balled-up towel under her head.

“Sobriquet? Really?” Dita glanced over with an eyebrow up.

“What? That’s a legitimate word.”

“No one has used that word conversationally since France in 1890.”

Perry lifted her chin defiantly. “I think it sounds fancy, and I don’t apologize. Abraham Dickchin.”

Dita snorted a laugh. “Oh my gods.”

They fell into content silence as the sun beat down on them, and Dita closed her eyes, hearing nothing but the waves as they hit the shore and hissed as the water slipped away again. Tension left her with every wave, and she emptied her mind of Ares, replacing her thoughts with the sounds of the ocean, wishing she could lie there forever.

Perry spoke after a little while. “So how not ready are you to go back tonight?”

When Dita opened her eyes, they fixed on a patch of sea grass swaying in the breeze, not wanting to meet Perry’s eyes. “I can’t even put a gauge on that. Right now, I feel like I can handle it. But actually seeing him again?” She sighed.

“Do you have a plan?” Perry dug her toes into the sand at the end of her towel and wiggled them until they showed again.

“Hmm, sort of.” Dita laid her cheek on her hand.

“Does it involve picturing him naked? Because I don’t think that will help you.”

“Ha, ha. Yes, I have a plan.” Dita paused, knowing exactly how lame her plan was. It sounded even stupider when she said it out loud. “I’m just going to pretend like he doesn’t exist.”

Perry’s chin dropped, and she eyed Dita over her Wayfarers. “That’s your big idea? To ignore him?”

“What else can I do? Facing him isn’t an option. Avoiding him is all I’ve got. So help me out by whispering dirty dick names in my ear.”

“That, I can do.” Perry looked up at the clouds.

Dita flipped onto her back, unable to get comfortable. “If I had my way, I’d stay here, maybe indefinitely. But I’m out of time. The next competition starts tomorrow, and I doubt Artemis will give a shit that I don’t want to be around Preston Dabutt.”

A laugh shot out of Perry. “I love this game.”

Dita smiled. “So do I. It’s hard to be afraid of someone with a name like Dick Van de Lick.”

The breeze skated across Dita’s body, and she closed her eyes against the sun, thinking over everything that would happen when she returned to Olympus. It had been almost two weeks, and she couldn’t hide any longer, couldn’t avoid turning the page, and she didn’t like what she knew was coming.

She’d have to see him.

She’d have to figure out how to be alone for the first time in thousands of years.

Everything had changed, and there was no going back. And in that, she found she was lost.

Even worse, she was afraid.

“Dita, you really freak me out when you’re quiet.”

She opened her eyes and blew out a breath as she stared up at the sky. “I just don’t know what to expect, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. So, my flimsy plan is to go back to Olympus, avoid him, and try to keep myself busy. Luckily, I have the competition to distract me. Needling Artemis should be a great diversion.”

Perry looked sideways at Dita from behind her shades. “I dunno. You two have more in common now than you ever have before.”

“Why? Because she’s sworn off love or because she’s miserable?”

Perry chuckled.

“Artemis and I have never seen eye-to-eye. She treats me like I’m useless, like love is useless. Love is one of the most powerful forces in the universe, and she denies its relevance. Love can heal, hurt, start wars. End wars.” Dita sighed. “We’ll never get along.”

“Probably not, but she has her reasons for feeling the way she does. She might be wrong about love, but everyone has their own motivations for how they feel. It’s all about perspective.”

Dita pouted. “Ugh, you suck. Can we just not like her? Please?”

Perry held her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Dita said with finality as she settled in. “We are going to spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach. Then, we are going to have a last, legitimate Greek meal, during which we will get very, very drunk.”

“I like this plan,” Perry said with a nod.

“Then, and only then, will I face the music. Hopefully Colon Peniston will be off fucking himself and he’ll leave me alone.”

“Operation Ostrich. Head in the sand with your feathered ass in the air.”

“Exactly.”

“Until you get eaten by the lion you don’t see coming. You know, because your head is buried?”

“You’re so morbid,” Dita said dryly.

Perry shrugged. “I’m the Queen of the Underworld. Morbidity comes with the territory.”

They fell into silence, soaking up the final hours before they would go back to reality, back to the game, back to their lives—Perry to Hades and Dita to an empty apartment and an empty heart. And it was all Dita could do to find hope that she would be able to keep herself together enough to survive.

DAY 1

DARKNESS PRESSED IN ON her from every direction.

She stumbled with splayed hands, her powers useless. No sound reached her ears, the maddening void sending panic through her, sending a scream climbing up her throat. Her eyes strained against the black, but all she found was a nothingness so heavy, so complete, that it was a living thing, squeezing her until her lungs burned. She dropped to her knees, though they never found the ground as she fell down and down.

Dita shot out of bed with a gasp.

Sweat beaded on her brow, her hair lank. She pressed her hand to her chest, and her heart banged back, as if it were trying to escape.

Nightmares had plagued her ever since Adonis was lost to her and Elysium along with him. When he’d drunk the Lethe, he had forgotten his human life, forgotten her, closing the door forever. The comfort of his arms through the portal of her dreams was gone, replaced with vivid nightmares.

Ares was at the helm of each lucid dream and every waking moment, lurking in the back of her mind, slithering and snaking through her thoughts, leaving no room for peace. The threat of him was a tangible thing. She pictured him over and over, huge and red in his wrath, felt his fingers around her neck as he choked her, heard his voice as he told her he’d never let her go.

Dita touched her neck at the thought as Bisoux pulled himself toward her on his stomach. She took a breath and let it out slowly, but the pressure in her chest stayed where it was.

“Bonjour, mon ami.” She scratched behind his ear.

He leaned into her hand.

Dita lay back down in her warm bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, burying herself in a cocoon of down and Egyptian cotton. She daydreamed about staying there, wistfully wondering how long things would stay the same, if her problems would all just disappear.

But she knew she was at the end of the line when it came to avoidance. Once she left the confines of her sanctuary, it would all be over. The bubble would pop.

She burrowed even deeper in her bed, and Bisoux climbed onto her chest and curled up in a furry ball with eyes. Soft daylight came through the artificial windows that hung on the walls like paintings, an invention that had been waiting for her when she returned from Greece. Heff had known how much she hated living underground with him, but she had been mandated to reside there by Zeus, and that was a fight that wasn’t even worth it.

Dita gazed out the window and tried to motivate herself to get up. The next round of the game would start within hours, and she’d have to face all of Olympus. Part of her wished she’d come back sooner and eased into life instead of prolonging her return to the last possible minute. The fanfare of the beginning of a game was stressful under normal circumstances, but after being absent for weeks in the wake of everything that had happened, all eyes would be on her.

Being in the spotlight wasn’t something that usually bothered her, but she knew for a fact that she was the headline of everyone’s conversations. Who knew what they assumed? Because they assumed plenty, she was sure. Gossip was so much more entertaining than the truth, and even though she hated being the object of negativity, all she could do was hold her head up and face it.

And face it, she would. Everyone would be upstairs, waiting for her. Including Ares.

Anxiety flashed through her, as it did every time he crossed her mind. While she’d been in Greece, she’d thought of him less and less with every day—every night was a different story entirely—and for a second, she’d convinced herself she was coping. Getting over it. But then she would hear something, smell something, see something that reminded her, and her memories would kick her back in time with a jolt.

She knew she’d be a swinging pendulum until the right amount of time passed, but that knowledge didn’t stop her from hoping her heart would somehow heal faster. That she would wake up, and the pain would be behind her. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t even close to being over. She’d stopped crying though, which was something.

In just a little while, she would see Ares in the flesh. She pictured him standing before her with cutting dark eyes and fists clenched at his sides, imagining him reaching for her, invading her space, invading her mind and life and heart.

She pushed the thought away before it could run away with her and bucked up. Maybe he wouldn’t show; it wasn’t his competition after all. Maybe he was just as nervous and upset about seeing her and would stay away since he had a choice in being there, whereas she didn’t.

But then she remembered he was undeniably Ares. Of course he would be there, and she’d take it a step further and wager he’d probably do something to upset her.

The thought cranked her nerves up another notch, and she took a deep breath, trying for reason. She told herself he would be cautious enough. All the gods would be watching. Surely he wouldn’t do anything stupid, not with Zeus’s threats of banishment looming over him. If all that were true, there would be little he could do to get to her.

If she didn’t let him affect her, she’d be fine.

Sure, just don’t let him get to you. Simple.

Dita flung off her covers and padded to her infinity closet, ditching her tight little sleep shorts and tank for jeans and a cotton henley, making sure the small buttons at the collar were buttoned nearly to the top. The last thing she needed was to draw any extra attention from He Who Must Not Be Named. She had no idea how she would handle seeing even a hint of desire in his eyes. Maybe she’d vomit. Or punch him.

Worse — she could feel answering attraction. Of course, that could also result in vomit or punching.

Baby steps.

Dita walked to the elevator with Bisoux trotting behind her. She picked him up and looked into his little black eyes, hanging on to him like a life preserver.

“We can do this. Right, buddy?”

Bisoux let out a little bark, and Dita stepped into the elevator, finding comfort in knowing that, at the very least, her robot dog was on her side.

Her nerves ticked like a time bomb as the elevator climbed and the doors opened.

She stepped into the expansive foyer and toward the sleek, modern kitchen where the Olympians were bustling around, making breakfast or coffee—or, in Dionysus’s case, a White Russian. A handful of gods sat around the kitchen island bar, eating, and before anyone had a chance to notice her, she froze just outside of the room with a twisted stomach, scanning their faces for Ares.

Instead, she found Perry, who sat at the long dining table and waved her over.

Relief slipped over Dita, and she uprooted her feet to make her way over.

The noise in the room fell to hushed whispers as she passed, but she locked eyes with Perry and put on a plastic smile. Several dozen eyes followed her until she sat down.

“You okay?” Perry’s brows knit together with worry as the conversation began to rise to normal, non-asshole levels.

“For now.” Dita’s eyes roamed the room from wall to wall, as if Ares would just appear out of thin air.

“Breakfast?”

Dita shook her head. “Not unless you want me to puke.”

The waiting was unbearable. She had nothing to say, not with every ounce of brainpower she possessed anticipating him, anxiously waiting for the shock and hurt and anger to slap her in the face when she laid eyes on him.

Heff took the seat on the other side of her, and she felt a small amount of relief, sitting between the two of them. Her stomach rumbled when she saw the bacon on his plate, next to his eggs and toast.

“Want some?” he asked, his blue eyes and rumbling voice full of concern.

She smiled, grateful that he hadn’t asked about Ares. “I’m okay.”

He relaxed only a little, smiling in answer from behind his beard. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I missed you, too. Thank you so much for the windows, Heff. They’re brilliant.”

“I worked on them for years, but I couldn't ever to get them just right. It was my top project while you were gone. Almost didn’t get them ready in time.”

“They’re perfect, really.” She beamed at him.

He flushed. “I’m glad you think so. Did you find the remote on your nightstand?”

“No. How did I miss that?”

He leaned back in his chair and hung an arm on the back of hers, his eyes warm and pleased and smiling as they looked into hers. “I’m sure you had other things on your mind. You can change your view to New York, Paris, London, Santorini. I programmed over a hundred views.”

So much thought, so much care he had put into the gift, just like he always did. Because he was one of the truest things in her life.

Her eyes misted up. “I don’t deserve you,” she said, meaning so much more than anything to do with the windows.

He scanned her face as he brushed her hair away from her cheek. “Dita—”

The elevator dinged, and Dita’s eyes flew to the doors as they opened.

Ares was leaning against the back wall with his arms folded across his broad chest and his dark hair in disarray. His eyes snapped to hers as if he’d known exactly where she was, sending her nerves firing down her back, her skin tingling in warning from nape to fingertips.

“Shitstick Von Chili Rim,” Perry whispered.

A shocked burst of laughter passed Dita’s lips, her heart jump-starting in her chest.

Ares pushed off from the back wall of the elevator, his eyes holding her until he reached the kitchen. To everyone else, he appeared nonchalant. His face was placid—for Ares, at least, which still included a smoldering scowl—and his gait was long and lazy like a cat, but Dita noted the tension in his shoulders, the tightness at the corners of his eyes, the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Selfishly, she was glad the whole ordeal was difficult for him, too. Because every single cell in her body was focused on him, and knowing he was affected made it a little bit easier for her to endure.

Not much, but every bit helped.

Artemis moved into Dita’s line of vision, setting her bowl of Cheerios on the table and taking the seat directly across from Dita.

The huntress had never fully adopted the new ways, not in the way the rest of Olympus had. Dita would have paid a token just to see her in jeans and a leather jacket instead of short blue hunting robes and calfskin sandals. Or to see her black hair spilling down her back instead of twisted and braided around her silver diadem, inset with an opal moon, flanked by topaz stars.

“Aphrodite,” she said with a sardonic smile and a nod.

“Artemis.”

Perry shook her head, her eyes on Artemis’s bowl. “You’re so adamant about keeping the old ways, so why aren’t you eating porridge or something?”

Artemis shrugged. “I like Cheerios.”

Dita could still feel Ares even though he was across the room, drinking coffee and sullenly leaning against the counter. But, instead of looking at him, she kept her eyes on Artemis’s. She was almost lost for a moment in the brilliant blue of her irises, the deepest shade of twilight, her long lashes lining her lids black against the milky-white moonlight of her skin.

It’s a little early in the day to be waxing poetic, Dita, she told herself as she tried to shake off her rambling nerves flitting around her stomach like moths.

She laid on a smile she didn’t feel. “So, Artemis, have you already chosen your player? Not that it matters since you’re probably going to lose.” Dita glanced at her nails.

Artemis’s eyes narrowed. “I have chosen, and I will not lose.”

“Statistics say you’re wrong, so I wouldn’t go making any foolhardy bets. Especially not now. I’ve got nothing but time to spend on plotting ways to take you down.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Gods, Aphrodite. May I eat breakfast before you start acting like a child?”

Dita threaded her fingers under her chin and laughed. “Okay, but eat fast.”

Artemis shoveled cereal into her mouth, scowling around her spoon.

The second the conversation died, Dita’s bravado seeped out like a leaky tire. Her eyes found Ares again. His eyes were almost hidden in the shadow of his brow, but they were on her. The feeling was so strong, he could have been touching her.

She realized she was holding her breath and breathed deep, forcing herself to look at Artemis again.

“So, what’s your player like?” Dita asked, desperate for a distraction.

“You will know soon enough,” was all she offered before taking another bite of cereal.

“Ah, come on. Not even a teeny-tiny hint?”

“You have enough of an advantage as it is.”

Dita’s cheer slipped into a pout, however fake it had been. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Artemis set her spoon down and leaned forward, raising a black eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” Dita leaned forward in answer.

Artemis chuckled with a condescending shake of her head. “You have an unfair advantage. Your love matches are practically impossible to stop. This competition is, by its very nature, unbalanced. Very little skill is required for you to win.”

Dita’s ears were hot, her cheeks warm. “You think this is easy?” she asked, her tone sharp. “I’ll admit that a love match is hard to stop, but I have an extremely tight time limit.”

“Four weeks is ample time for you to make two humans fall in love,” Artemis said.

Dita was too ranty to note that she was being baited. “It’s not ample, given the humans you guys always choose. I mean, last round, both players almost died. You all love to choose the most fucked up players you can find, which makes it really, really hard to combat. Winning takes wit and planning. I have to constantly adapt and detour to get the humans to each other. It’s not like I’m sitting around, painting my nails and eating chocolates and…and…I don’t know. What the fuck do you think I do all day?”

“I care very little.” Artemis shrugged.

Dita’s teeth ground together as she glared across the table. “It does take skill, and I don’t have an advantage,” she said a little louder than she’d meant to.

“You are set up to win, and we are set up to fail. The game is rigged.”

“It is not!” Dita slapped the table.

A hush fell over the kitchen, but Artemis only smiled.

Dita pushed her chair back and stood, her eyes never leaving Artemis. “Let’s go. You and me. Right now. Fuck your Cheerios.” She turned on her heel and blew out of the room.

The Olympians abandoned their breakfasts for the drama, filing into the theater room behind Dita. She walked past the rows of leather armchairs to stand in front of the screen with her jaw clenched and lips pursed.

Perry stopped next to her. “Breathe.”

She folded her arms across her chest and scowled. “I am breathing, dammit.”

“Okay. Choke, hag. Better?”

“Actually, yes. Thank you.”

Ares was all but forgotten. Dita’s thoughts were busy obsessing over Artemis.

“You have an unfair advantage,” she muttered to herself in a mocking voice. The fucking nerve.

Artemis made her way in with her chin high and a smirk on her face, and Dita resisted the urge to permanently banish it.

The Goddess of Hunt stopped at the far end of the room with the remote, pointing at the humongous screen as Hermes attempted to thread his way through the crowd to reach her and announce the game. But she didn’t wait for him. His face screwed up with agitation when she turned on the television.

The screen lit up with the image of a woman wearing a look of solid determination as she drove into an alley in New Jersey. Her long red hair was tied up in a tight ponytail, and her big brown eyes were trained on the road in front of her.

Dita recognized her and smiled, catching herself before she laughed out loud. Her plan clicked into place and was set in motion that second, and giddiness bubbled up in her as she realized just how easy winning would be.

“I would like to introduce you all to Josie Campbell,” Artemis said.

And the screen jumped into motion.

Josie pulled into the New Jersey alley late that morning and stopped just down from the bail-jumper’s house. The pavement and grass were slick and shiny from the trickling rain, the sky gray and heavy as she grabbed her cuffs from the passenger seat and stuffed them in her back pocket. She reached into her brown leather jacket and touched the handle of her gun for comfort, though she was sure she wouldn’t have to use it. It was only Chester after all.

Chester was a repeat offender whose favorite pastime was committing acts of indecent exposure. The old man had been nabbed more than a dozen times for exposing himself in public—from malls to movie theaters and everywhere in between. He’d once flashed a woman in the produce department of a grocery store while delivering a choice joke about cucumber and melons along with lewd hip gestures for illustrative purposes. Chester always got out on bail and never showed up when his court date hit the calendar. At that point, his bondsman would call one of the private investigators on their list.

That was where she would come in. Chasing skips was the bread and butter of any private investigation firm, and hers was no exception. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called to bring the old man in for skipping bail, and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last.

The rain hit the pavement in soft pats as Josie slipped through the short gate of the chain-link fence around Chester’s backyard, stepping around tires, beer cans, and tools to make her way up to the back door. She skipped the first step up to the patio. That one always squeaked like crazy.

Josie pressed herself up against the wall next to the screen door and closed her eyes, listening for any sign of him.

Nothing.

He was either asleep or he wasn’t there. She crept around the house to his bedroom window and peered in. The breeze pushed the curtains away, and she saw his rumpled, empty bed. Her lips pinched together as she moved to the living room window, bending into a frown when she didn’t find him on the couch either.

Josie cursed as she hurried to her car, bowing her head against the drizzle. She should have known he wasn’t there. He was well acquainted with how the system worked, though she figured she’d have been irresponsible not to at least check to see if he was home. But Chester wouldn’t wait around for someone to come pick him up and haul him in. Instead, he’d find some dive to get drunk in until someone found him and dragged his ass to jail.

She fired her engine and thought about where he could be, cycling through his favorite haunts. The Grand Duke, she thought, her gut telling her to start there. And so, she did.

Dita sauntered across the theater room until she reached Artemis, holding out her hand for the remote.

Artemis laid it in her waiting palm, looking all too proud of herself.

Dita’s eyes were narrow, but inside, she was all but jumping up and down and giggling. Artemis was too easy to provoke for her plan not to work.

“Since you’re so keen on talking shit,” Dita said, “and since you think all of this is so simple for me, why don’t we up the stakes? For my player, I’ll choose the man Josie despises more than just about anyone—her ex who left her without a word, who dumped her and broke her heart into a million pieces. Would that make it fair enough for you?”

Artemis laughed with a shake of her head. “Impossible. Josie would never fall in love with him again. Not after what he did to her.”

How little you know.

“So is that a yes, Artemis?”

“Yes, this is fair. I accept.”

Artemis looked so very sure of herself, though Dita was sure her own posture didn’t look any less confident.

“Not that I need your permission. This is just to prove to you that I can play this game on your terms and still beat you. And when you hand over a token, you’re going to eat a big, fat slice of humble pie. Deal?”

Artemis smirked. “Deal.”

Dita pointed the remote at the television, and the image switched to a tall, well-built man with dark hair that curled against the collar of his leather jacket. He was stepping out of his Jeep, and Artemis’s eyes went wide when she saw where he was.

“And now,” Dita said to the crowd, “I have the pleasure of introducing you to Jon Landreaux.”

She hit play.

Jon closed the door to his Wrangler and made his way across the parking lot to the entrance of The Grand Duke, a dirty dive bar where he hoped he’d find the bail-jumper he was after. He’d gotten the call only a few minutes before, but he knew Chester’s habits well enough. The Duke was one of Chester’s favorite haunts, and it happened to be the closest when Jon had gotten the call to pick the flasher up.

He pulled The Duke’s door open, and the sad, haggard faces of the men at the bar turned to the light. Jon stepped in and shook the rain off his jacket as he scanned the room for the face he was looking for without luck.

A heavyset, middle-aged woman gave him a halfhearted smile. Her hair was an electric shade of color that fell somewhere between red and orange, and her eye shadow was a similar density of blue.

“What can I get for you, honey?”

He glanced at the door, his gut telling him to wait a few before he took off to check the next spot. The clock on the wall read eleven.

It’s five o’clock somewhere.

“What do you have in bottles?”

“Plenty.”

“How about Sam Adams?”

She glanced down at the bin in front of her. “Don’t have it.”

“Okay, how about Heineken?”

“Nope.”

He leaned over the bar and looked in the ice bin of beers where he found Bud Light, Budweiser, and Miller.

Lite.

“Well, that certainly is a mighty wide selection you have there.”

“We do what we can, sweetie.”

The door to the bar swung open, and their faces turned to where Chester staggered in the doorway, dirty and wrinkled, his gray beard gnarled and cheeks red.

Jon’s lips pulled into a lazy smile. “Well, how about that? Looks like you have what I was lookin’ for after all.”

Chester’s eyes passed over the room, landed on Jon, and flew open. He turned and ran, and the door slowly closed on its own behind him.

Jon shook his head. “They always do that, though I can’t figure out why.” He turned to the bartender. “Thanks anyway, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat and took off after Chester.

Josie parked in The Duke’s lot with her nerves tingling. Chester was there; she could feel it on her skin, and her eyes scanned the parking lot. As soon as she stepped out of her car, he stumbled around the side of the building and shuffled toward the entrance. She froze, hoping she could wait for him to get inside where he couldn’t run, and she stayed just where she was until he pulled the door open and walked in.

She hadn’t made it five steps before the door burst open again, and Chester bolted around the building, toward the alley behind the bar.

Josie smiled as she took off after him. Gotcha.

That alley was a dead end.

Her boots slapped the wet pavement as she made it to the mouth of the alley. Chester had come to a stop at the end.

He turned and faced her. “Well, hello there, Miss Josie. Fancy meeting you here.” His words were slow and drawn out, and he listed a little, swerving as he tried to stay upright.

“Hey, Chester,” she said genially, though her body was tense and ready to move. “We gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?”

A deep voice with a Southern drawl said from behind her, “Oh, I don’t know about you, Chester, but I always find that the hard way’s a little more fun.”

Josie turned and looked up, and when their eyes met, her heart shot into her throat.

Jon’s hair was damp and flipping at the ends from the rain, his leather jacket dotted with condensation. His eyes were so blue, so bright, and she blinked, breaking the contact.

How he always did that to her, she’d never understand.

She put all her energy behind the anger bubbling up in her instead of his crooked smile as he looked down at her.

“What are you doing here, Jon?” she asked flatly.

He shrugged with a casual grace so gorgeous, it should be criminal. “I got a call a minute ago from Jerry J’s to pick up Chester, and I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d stop by The Duke.”

She huffed. “How is that possible? They’re only supposed to call one PI.” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, did you set this up?”

That stupid smirk of his stretched higher on one side. “Don’t flatter yourself, honey.”

“Don’t call me honey, asshole,” she shot. “They called me hours ago, and I was here first.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I was here first. I was inside when Chester here came ambling in.” Jon’s slow smile never left his jerk face. His stupid, hot jerk face.

She scowled. Bastard.

“Hey now, Jo, no need to get mad.”

“I’m not mad.” She was well past mad and edging into blind fury.

Jon’s eyes moved behind her, and his smile stretched wide. He leaned forward, mouth angling for her ear, and dropped his voice. “Don’t look now, but I think Chester’s got a little something for you.”

Josie turned and rolled her eyes when she saw Chester swinging his naked dick at her. “Jesus Christ, Chester. Put that thing away.”

She trotted over to the old man, giving him a wide berth as she made her way behind him, cuffs in hand. Jon covered her from the front, getting the full assault, to ensure that Chester wouldn’t make a break for it. Not like he would get very far with his pants around his ankles.

Josie chuckled, her anger tempered by only a small margin. “Why do we have to do this every time, Chester?”

He was almost pouting as he glanced over his shoulder. “I’m too pretty for jail, Miss Josie.”

“Well, you end up there anyway, so why not just go with it?”

Chester looked back at Jon, who looked even more amused than she did. Chester’s eyes twinkled under his salt-and-pepper caterpillar eyebrows, and he gave a wistful smile from behind his grizzly beard.

“She don’t understand, but I bet you do, Mr. Landreaux. Nothing makes you feel more alive than being on the run.”

Jon walked up and grabbed ahold of Chester’s arm with an understanding nod. “You know, I get your meaning. But now we’re gonna have to take you in.”

“Naturally.” Chester tripped on his pants when he tried to take a step.

Jon tightened his grip to keep Chester on his feet. “Whoa there, buddy.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile when he heard Josie’s smoky voice from the other side of Chester.

“Somebody needs to pull up his pants, Jon.” It was more of a directive than a statement.

He looked around the old man and into Josie’s velvety brown eyes. “Just watch out for his business while you’re down there.”

She shook her head with a haughty laugh. “Oh no, not me. You.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Rock-Paper-Scissors?”

Josie mirrored him. “You’re on.”

They each held a fist in front of them and air-pounded in time. Josie chose rock, and Jon landed on scissors.

Josie smiled, and Jon couldn’t even be mad at his misfortune, not when she was happy. Every time he saw her, he would try to coax a laugh out of her. It was rare indeed when he succeeded, so he figured pulling up Chester’s pants was a small price to pay to see that smile, like sunshine from behind a rain cloud, always gone too soon.

“Like you said,” she said, smug as hell, “watch out for his business. No one wants a dick in the ear. Chester would do that, wouldn’t you, Chester?”

“It’s true,” Chester admitted with a shrug.

Jon sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. Then, he stepped behind Chester, deciding that his ass end was the best bet.

“You always pick scissors,” Josie said.

He bent down and grabbed Chester’s pants. “No, I don’t.” Jon pulled the dirty khakis up.

“Yes, you do.”

Jon glanced at Josie, who wore a know-it-all look if he’d ever seen one, before peering over Chester’s shoulder. He shook the skip’s pants in an attempt to wiggle his dick back into them.

“Well, I will say that scissors are the best of all the choices in the game.”

“How so?”

“Aha!” Jon cheered as he got Chester put away, reaching around to zip and button the man’s pants before grabbing his arm again. “Rock, well, it’s just unrefined, and paper, well, paper’s got no personality.”

“And scissors are superior?” Josie asked as the trio made their way out of the alley.

“Sure, I mean, think about it. They’re sharp and shiny. One might even call them sophisticated. You could use scissors for good or evil. They’re like the multitool of Rock-Paper-Scissors.”

“Except that they’re all equal in the game.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, superior as an individual player.”

As they rounded the corner of the building, Josie tugged Chester toward her car.

“Oh no, I’ll take him. You can follow us,” Jon insisted, pulling Chester toward his Jeep.

“And have you shake me and get there first? No way. I’ll take him.” She pulled Chester back in her direction.

Jon watched her for a split second. “All right. Then I’m riding with you.”

She stiffened. “And you can take a cab back to The Duke from the station.”

He nodded. “Works for me.”

Josie gave him a look that said she wasn’t happy with the arrangement before hauling Chester to her car.

Jon stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched her walk ahead of him. Even mad and uncomfortable, she was beautiful. Her hair shone like copper, and his fingers tingled as he remembered the feeling of the silky strands between them. His heart ached at the reminder that he’d lost any rights to touch her after how he handled things, finding himself wishing for the millionth time that he could go back and do it all over. Do it better. Do it right.

Josie could feel Jon’s eyes on her, and her brows furrowed with discomfort as she put Chester in her backseat. She climbed in and turned the key, and Jon slipped in next to her, smelling like rain and leather and man.

She swallowed hard.

Should have made him sit in the back.

He grabbed her auxiliary cable and held up the end. “You mind?”

“Rude. But fine, go ahead and hijack my radio.”

He plugged his phone in, and trumpets blared in the speakers as “Ring of Fire” began.

She backed out of the parking spot and took off toward the police station. “You are such a Southern boy.”

He looked at her like she had nine heads. “Southern or not, who doesn’t like Johnny Cash?”

Chester drunkenly sang along from the backseat.

Jon hitched his thumb at Chester, and a smile crept across his lips. “See?”

Josie’s eyes were on the road, but she found herself smiling despite herself. She snuck a glance over at him just as he looked away. The windows were cracked, and the wind whipped his hair out from behind his ear and across his face. His hand moved to tuck it back in place, and his fingers grazed the bridge of his nose.

She snapped her eyes forward and took a breath that was achingly full of Jon as Johnny sang about the fire that consumed hearts when they were stupid enough to fall in love.

Josie cleared her throat and turned the radio down, though Chester kept singing. They were otherwise silent through the short distance to the station, the quiet accompanied by the occasional glance from Jon, who was clearly entertained by Chester’s enthusiasm.

After they turned the flasher in, they made their way out of the station, neither knowing what to say as they descended the cement stairs.

They stopped for a moment when they reached the sidewalk.

Josie stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, suddenly feeling guilty for her refusal to take him back to his car and for being an ass to him. It wasn’t like he’d planned on crashing her job. She didn’t think so at least.

“Listen,” she started, “I can take you back to your car if you want.”

Jon waved her off. “Don’t worry about it, Jo. Really.” He walked backward with a smile on his face. “I’ll see you around, okay?” he said with a wink before he turned and walked away, whistling his beloved Johnny Cash all the way.

She watched Jon for a little too long before finding her senses and turning for her car, trying to talk herself down, like she did every time she saw him.

He hurt you, she told herself.

He left you, she pleaded with her heart.

He chose her, was the only thought that made a dent, and she found her resolve as she drove away.

It was near dusk as Josie walked to her parents’ house in Hell’s Kitchen.

After she’d collected her check from Jerry J’s Bonds for turning in Chester, she had run errands and had even gone for a jog, though she figured she should put jog in quotations since it’d ended up being more of a sprint than anything.

But, despite it all, Jon was still on her mind as she climbed the stairs to the Campbell residence.

Seeing him always did that to her, and it never ceased to infuriate her. Because she didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. She just wanted him to disappear like he had before.

Things would just be so much easier if he went away and left her alone.

Sunday dinner at the Campbell house was a loud and loving affair and one that no member of the family was exempt from. Josie simultaneously looked forward to the comfort and dreaded the pressure she knew would rest on her shoulders the second she opened the door.

The smell of pot roast hit her so hard, her mouth watered. Her mother’s cooking was about the only decent eating Josie was acquainted with, as most of Josie’s meals were more in the neighborhood of ramen than rib eye.

Josie’s little sister, Liz, sat on the couch with her chestnut hair in a messy bun and earbuds in, her fingers banging out a text on her phone. At fifteen, she cared about very little that fell outside of the realm of boys and whatever her friends were into at the moment.

“Hey, Liz.” Josie closed the door behind her.

Liz didn’t look up.

Josie waved a hand in front of her, and she popped out an earbud.

“Huh?” Her eyebrows were up, her eyes big and brown, just like Josie’s.

“Just saying hello. Doing okay?”

“Sure, if okay is code for complete disaster.”

“Wow, Liz. Sounds serious.”

“Only if you consider Jamie kissing Ellie’s boyfriend at Ellie’s birthday party serious, which Ellie does.” Liz rolled her eyes. “I don’t, particularly because everyone knows Ellie’s boyfriend is an asshole, but it’s been nonstop drama.”

“Ah, the life of a teenage girl,” Josie said with mock nostalgia. “Where’s Mom?”

“Kitchen. Watch out. The boys are in there arguing over cop movies.”

“What’s new? I don’t know why they even bring it up.”

“Because arguing is the number one event in the Campbell Family Olympics. Duh.” Liz laughed and turned back to her phone.

Josie walked into the dining room and leaned over her father’s wide shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Daddy.”

He patted her hand and jerked his chin at her brothers where they were angled over the table, so deep in their discussion that neither saw her.

Paul, her older brother, shook his blond head, his meaty forearms resting on the surface. “Mikey, there’s no way you’ll ever convince me. You can’t even put Beverly Hills Cop and Die Hard in the same category.”

Mike, her younger but not smaller brother, narrowed his eyes. “You know I’m right. Look, I’m not saying that McClane isn’t a badass. I’m just saying that Axel Foley is a better cop.”

Paul waved his hand. “Foley’s smart, but he can’t stay in line.”

“And McClane does? Come on, Paul, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“You’re both wrong,” her father chimed in. “It’s Riggs and Murtaugh. Every cop is better with a good partner.”

Josie’s heart lurched, and three faces turned to her for a reaction.

Not only would she never get to be a cop like she’d always dreamed of, but she’d also lost her best friend, her partner, only months before. It was a double-whammy comment that he’d made offhand, but such was the new state of her life.

She woke up every day and found a way to trudge on, but something would inevitably rip the wound open again. She’d almost gotten used to the feeling.

Almost.

She smiled back at them, hoping she looked reassuring. “It’s the truth. Everybody needs somebody to watch their back.”

Paul and Mike stood.

Paul pulled her into a hug. “Hey, Jojo.”

She punched him in the side. “One day, you’ll quit calling me that.”

He laughed. “Not today.”

“Where’s Gia?”

“My beautiful wife is in the kitchen with Mom and Gran. Tell her I said that because the more pregnant she gets, the more likely she is to either cry or yell at me. I need all the help I can get.”

Mike gave her a side hug.

“How’s it going, Mikey?”

He ran a hand through his copper crew cut. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be a rookie forever.”

“They’re still razzing you? I figured they’d have found fresh meat by now.”

“Last week, somebody put shaving cream in my shoes, and yesterday, they glitter-bombed my locker.”

Josie laughed. “Oh, Mikey.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I got ’em back by stealing all their deodorant and replacing them with Teen Rave Island Breeze.”

“That was my idea,” her dad said from her side and kissed her temple. “How are you, baby?”

She put on a smile. “I’m fine.”

He sighed and gave her a look that said he didn’t buy it. “Mmhmm. Boys,” he turned to his sons, “get in there and get the dishes so we can set the table. And Jo, go say hi to your mom.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased.

“Twelve years I’ve been a captain, and I will never get tired of hearing that.” He gave her a wink.

She followed the solid shoulders of her brothers into the kitchen where laughter mingled with the clinking of silverware and plates.

Her mother bustled around the kitchen as she passed stacks of plates to the boys, tucking an errant strand of auburn hair behind her ear that almost instantly began to slip back into her face. Gia slid off her barstool and waddled around to the stove with her hand on her belly.

“Ah, ah, ah” Josie’s mother shooed her back to her seat as the boys left the room with armfuls of dinnerware. “You just sit down and finish cooking that baby. Leave dinner to me.”

“Laura, I am so over being an incubator, I could scream. I actually did earlier. Paul had no idea how much rage I could expend on him for drinking out of the milk carton.”

They all laughed, and Josie made her way around the room to greet the women of her family. She came to her grandmother last, who was sipping sherry from a small crystal glass.

“Hello, Josephine,” Gran said with a smile, her gray hair coiffed like Jackie O and lips red—always elegant, always beautiful.

“Hello, Josephine,” Josie answered as she gave her grandmother a hug, breathing in the scent of rose water that reminded her of being a little girl.

“And what is new in the life of my favorite private investigator?” Gran brought her sherry to her lips with her gray eyebrows high.

“Well,” Josie said as she took the barstool next to her grandmother, “a few hours ago, I was exposed to a sixty-year-old man’s genitalia, but I guess things could be worse.”

“I’m not sure I’d complain.”

Josie snickered. “He’s not your type. You wouldn’t have been impressed with his level of hygiene or sobriety. That’s on top of the fact that he likes to show said genitals to anyone with eyes, solicited or not.”

“He sounds charming,” Gran said with a flourish. “How about you? My opportunity to be choosy about men might have passed, but yours, my dear, has not.”

Josie shifted in her seat and avoided Gran’s eyes. “You know I’m too busy with work to date.”

“Yes, yes, so I’ve heard,” she said.

Laura pulled the roast out of the oven, closed the door with her foot, and turned for the dining room. “Everybody, grab a dish and follow me,” she said with the swing of her elbow.

They did as they had been told and followed her to the table where the men of the family sat, chatting. Josie took her usual seat between Liz and Gran, across from the boys and Gia, who laid a napkin over her giant belly and sighed.

“I can barely even reach my plate.”

Paul laid an arm over the back of his wife’s chair. “Just a few more weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled as everyone loaded their plates and passed dishes around.

“Well,” Laura said as she handed Gran the mashed potatoes, “I’ve got one grandbaby on deck. Who’s going to be next?”

Josie kept her eyes on the roast as she forked it onto her plate.

Just don’t, Mom. Not today.

“Don’t look at me,” Mike said as he leaned on the table.

“I don’t know, Mom. If I have anything to do with it, it’ll be my turn,” Liz said. She took a bite of peas. “I know how you really want me to be on 16 and Pregnant. Having a baby’s basically like getting a puppy, right?”

“Don’t even joke about it, Elizabeth Marie,” Laura warned. “I’ll skin you, and your father will skin any boy stupid enough to even think about it.”

Everyone smiled down at their roast and peas and potatoes, except for Laura, who turned her attention to Josie.

“How about you, Josie? Meet any eligible young men this week?”

“Mom,” she warned.

Laura’s eyebrows were up as she reached for a bowl of carrots. “Is that a no?”

“That’s a no.”

“Well,” Laura said as she spooned carrots onto her plate, “it couldn’t hurt to be a little more lip gloss and a little less gunmetal.”

Josie’s mouth hung open for a split second before she snapped it shut. “I don’t have time for lip gloss, and I happen to like guns.”

Paul snorted. “Speaking of boyfriends, I saw Jon at the station the other day.”

Josie shoveled roast into her mouth to stop herself from responding.

Her father chuckled. “Rosie made him wait an hour for a check she’d cut him weeks ago. I think it was sitting on her desk the whole time he was waiting.”

Josie set her fork down with a clink almost loud enough to be disruptive. “Am I the only one who doesn’t find it amusing that half the precinct knows the details of my love life?”

“Oh, come on, Jo,” Paul said with a smirk. “Giving Jon hell is the least we can do to dish that asshole a little payback.”

“Language, Paul.” Laura gave him a look.

Josie eyeballed him too. “Look, as much as I appreciate the thought, I just wish everyone would drop it.”

Paul leaned on the table, his smirk fading and face hardening. “The guy left town with his ex he’d knocked up and didn’t even have the guts to tell you he was leaving. I mean, what kind of coward doesn’t break up with someone face-to-face?”

A thousand thoughts fired through Josie’s mind, so many that her mouth couldn’t even pick one.

Gia elbowed him in the side. “Paul,” she hissed.

He looked at his wife like he had zero clue. “What? I’m just saying, we all hate him just as much as she does.”

Josie shoved her rage down from cracking skulls to spitting nails. “I don’t need reminding, and I very seriously doubt that your feelings about him are stronger than mine. Can we just not talk about it? Please? For God’s sake, I just want to come to Sunday dinner and not have everybody up my ass.”

“Language!” Laura said, exasperated. She turned her fury on her husband. “Hank, control your children.”

Hank set his fork down and leaned on his forearm. “Josie, honey, on behalf of our entire misguided but well-meaning family, I would like to apologize. I know we have a funny way of showing it, but we only want you to be happy.”

Josie made eye contact with each member of her family. “It would make me happy if everybody dropped it. I’m fine, okay? I don’t want a boyfriend, and I don’t need help from the vigilante heart police. Now, can we please change the subject?”

“Sure, Jo. Sure.” Hank turned to the other side of the table. “Gia, I think we would all love to hear about the nursery. Has Pauly finished painting, or do I need to knock some sense into him?”

Gia let out a breath and smiled, breaking the tension with the details of paint swatches and curtains before she and Laura entered into a debate about stomach versus back sleeping. Josie ate her meal in silence as the family chatted, and the only real comfort she felt was in the moment her grandmother patted her hand, and they shared a smile.

Dinner eventually ended, and the table was cleared by Liz, who stacked all the dishes in the kitchen for Josie and her grandmother to attack, as they did every Sunday.

Josie leaned against the counter with a towel slung over her shoulder, watching as Gran rolled up her sleeves and buried her weathered hands in the bubbles.

“Don’t be mad at Paul or your mother, Josie.” Gran’s eyes were on her hands as she scrubbed a plate.

“I’m not mad. I’m fine.” Josie thought maybe she’d sounded convincing.

Gran eyed her and dunked the plate in the rinse side of the sink. “You can’t fool me.”

Josie sighed as she took the plate from Gran and ran her towel over it.

Gran picked up another plate and went to work on it. “Your mother believes that a family would satisfy you because that’s where she’s found her joy. She just doesn’t realize how horrible she sounds when she tries to help.”

“I know they mean well, really, but I dread coming over here every week. How can I keep moving forward if everyone keeps bringing up the past?”

“Moving forward, hmm?”

“What? I’m fine,” Josie insisted.

“You keep saying that. When was the last time you went on a date?”

Josie’s lips pressed flat. “That’s not the point.”

“Okay, when was the last time you went out with your girlfriends?” Gran raised an eyebrow and handed Josie another wet plate.

Josie dripped the excess water into the sink. “I…” She had no excuse. “A long time. It just doesn’t feel right anymore. Nothing does.” Not since Jon. Not since Rhodes. Not since Anne.

Gran’s face went soft, though she didn’t make eye contact, just nodded to the bubbles. “When we’re grieving, it feels that way, I know. But I promise, one day, you will wake up and things will be different.”

That was all it took to make the back of her throat burn. She swallowed her tears. “I keep thinking that will happen, but every day is the same.”

“You just have to give it time. You have been through so much over the last few years. You lost your best friend just months ago in a way few could imagine. You lost Jon—” Josie opened her mouth to speak, but Gran cut her off with a look. “And don’t you tell me that he doesn’t mean anything to you, Josephine Campbell, because I will call you a liar.”

Josie shut her mouth.

Gran looked back at her hands as she rinsed a glass. “That kind of pain changes you. I know that for a fact, just as well as I know that you will find happiness again. You don’t live as many years as I have in this world without learning to endure.”

Josie couldn’t find a way to get to that point. She could barely even imagine the possibility of being happy again. “How do you find happiness after so much hurt?”

When their eyes met again, Gran only smiled and said simply, “It’ll find you when the time is right.”

DAY 2

DAWN CREPT INTO THE kitchen where Jon sat at his table, writing in his blue spiral notebook. He ripped a page out with a huff and crumpled it up, tossing it next to the other wadded papers strewed on the surface next to a plate of forgotten eggs.

He clicked the butt of his pen a few times before sticking the end in his mouth.

For a month, ever since he’d seen Josie again after moving back to New York, he’d been trying to write the letter, but he’d gotten nowhere. There was so much to say, too much. He could never get the words right, and he’d thrown a hundred letters away that were proof.

Leaving New York years before, leaving Josie, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d spent three years in New Orleans, trying to move on, but he’d only discovered one thing—there was no getting over her.

They had only been dating for a few weeks when everything fell apart, but they’d been friends and colleagues for over a year before that. And when he’d left, he’d lost it all—her friendship, her love. He’d burned it to the ground the second he left town.

But he'd never stopped longing for the days long passed, moments and hours full of content sighs and smiles he’d felt in the depths of his heart. The time when he’d had her was the happiest of his life, as silly as it seemed. But he’d known from the first time he ever saw her that she was the end of the line, and no amount of time or distance could change that.

The day Tori, his ex, had told him she was pregnant, his life had been flung into an emotional washing machine and set to spin. Moving back to New Orleans had seemed like the only option. They’d needed help, needed to save money, and they couldn’t do that in New York.

Getting back together had never been on the table for either of them—they were better apart than together—and if they were ever going to make it on their own with a baby, Tori’d had to finish school and get a degree. She had to quit working, and Jon couldn’t support both of them on an unstable income, living in Manhattan. Her parents lived nearby in Hell’s Kitchen, but there wasn’t room for any of them there. Not to mention, her father flat-out hated Jon. So, they’d moved in with his parents where they could live rent-free and save, survive. Set themselves up for a real future.

Looking back, he knew he’d handled Josie all wrong, but at the time, he hadn’t known what else to do. Everything had been rocked and flipped upside down with the baby—he would be a father; he would have a child—and he’d panicked. He couldn’t have faced Josie to say goodbye, couldn’t have looked into those eyes of hers and told her he was leaving. That he was going to have a child with his ex-girlfriend.

But he had to take care of his family, and to do that, he’d had to leave New York. With two words—I’m pregnant—the future he’d sought had crumbled before his eyes, leaving him to navigate a future he couldn’t even imagine.

And the truth was, he had been afraid.

So, instead of sacking up and facing her, he’d poured his heart, soul, and guts into a letter to Josie. He’d told her everything. Given her the choice and left it in her hands. Told her he’d always be there if she could find a way to forgive him and if she still wanted him.

She’d never called.

For three years, he’d obsessed over her, plagued by imaginings of what she thought of him. He’d figured she despised him for leaving, for the baby, for being a coward. Deep down, he’d hoped that, somehow, he was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t called because she understood why he’d left and accepted it but didn’t want him and didn’t want to talk about it.

It hadn’t stopped him from wishing every day that his phone would ring, and she’d be on the other end, waiting for him.

Part of him had hoped they’d never come back to New York again. He’d hoped he could close the door on that chapter and find a way to start fresh. But New Orleans never grew on Tori, and really, he should have known she would always want to go back home.

The second Tori had gotten her accounting degree, she had been ready to move back. There’d been no talking her out of it, so they’d packed up a moving van like a macho version of Jenga, said goodbye to his family and home, and moved back to New York where all the things he couldn’t forget were waiting for him.

The first time he had seen Josie again was a few weeks after he made it back to Hell’s Kitchen. It was a blustery day in February, and Jon stopped into the Midtown South Precinct to check the bulletin board. The second he walked in the door, he saw Josie standing at the board with her back turned to him, her long red hair unmistakable.

He’d pictured the moment a thousand times and a hundred ways, but nothing compared to seeing her in the flesh, right there, close enough to speak her name and make her turn around so he could see her face.

For a long moment, he stood there, paralyzed, wondering where the roulette ball would land. The reality of his waiting was upon him, and his stomach ended up somewhere in his shoes as he walked toward her.

Jon stopped behind her and swallowed hard. “Hey, Jo.”

She spun around with disbelief written all over her face. “Jon?”

“Long time.” He smiled, hoping he looked cool as he watched her for a reaction with his heart clanging in his ears.

“Yes, long time,” she said softly, her doe eyes big and wide, like she was caught in a gun scope.

They stood in stunned silence. He didn’t know what to say, just looked over her for a moment before finally finding his wits.

“I—”

“What are you doing here?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

“We just moved back.” He shifted, feeling the anger roll off her.

Everything about her was wound tight—her voice, her face, her body.

“When?”

“Last week.”

“How’s Tori?” The words were bitter, her eyes taut in the corners and cheeks flushed.

“She’s fine,” he said quietly. He wondered if she could hear the apology underneath his words.

If she did, it didn’t seem to faze her.

“Well, that’s just swell.” Her voice climbed just a little, just enough. “And how about your kid? I hope you’re all happy. Super fucking happy.”

She brushed past him, and he stood there, shocked for a second, before trotting after her.

“Wait, Jo.” He caught up with her as she barreled away and almost reached out to touch her. He clenched his fist to stop himself. “Josie, wait.”

She never stopped walking and wouldn’t look at him as she wound her way through the station with him on her heels. Jon fought to keep up with her as she pushed open the station doors.

“Josie, talk to me, please.”

When she reached the bottom of the cement steps in front of the building, she spun around, her whole body tense. “Talk to you? And say what exactly?”

She laughed, though the sound held no joy, and when she put her hands on her hips, he knew he was in deep shit.

“I don’t owe you anything, not after what you did.”

And with that, he had his answer. She did hate him. It was the worst imagined outcome.

“I know you don’t owe me, Jo, but—”

“But what? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through over the last three years? Any idea? I mean, between you and me? Whatever. We dated for a few weeks, which apparently isn’t long enough for you to even break up with me. You just fucking left without a single word. Who does that?”

His brows dropped. “Wait, you didn’t get—”

“And not only did you dump me without having the decency to even tell me it was over, but then I also found out you’d left town with your ex. Your pregnant ex. Tell me, were you fucking her the entire time too?”

“I—”

She threw her hands up. “No, you know what? I don’t want to know. It was humiliating enough to find out from your fucking landlord, who told me the ‘cute couple’ in 4D was expecting and had moved to New Orleans. So, I swung by Tori’s parents’ place, and they confirmed that you had, in fact, knocked her up and split town.”

“Josie,” he said over her, brows drawn, “will you shut up for one second, please?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her cheeks flamed, her voice deadly soft when she said, “Oh, this better be good.”

“You really think I would have left without saying goodbye?” he asked with more bite than he’d meant, shocked and frustrated and confused. “I left you a letter—”

“I’m sorry. A what?” she asked through her teeth.

“A letter,” he huffed, “one that I figure you didn’t get.”

Her chest rose and fell as she stared at him. “A note?” It was almost a whisper. “You dumped me in a note?”

“Yeah, I left it on your—”

He was too shocked to react when she cocked her fist and hooked him in the jaw.

Jon’s ears rang, and he bent over and pressed a hand to his jaw. “Fuck, Josie!”

“Goddamn it, that hurt,” she growled as she shook her hand out. “You’re not even the worst thing to happen to me.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “Anne’s dead.”

He froze, and his hand dropped, the pain forgotten, his lungs empty. “What?” he whispered.

“No,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “That’s all I will say, so don’t even ask me because I will not relive that hell just to bring your sorry ass up to speed. Go read a fucking newspaper.”

His brows dropped even lower. “Now, wait a fucking second—”

“No, I won’t wait a fucking anything for you. Don’t come riding back into town, acting like you have any rights. You and I have nothing to say.”

He stood there stupidly, watching as she turned, her hair snapping around her like a whip, remembering himself just in time to reach out and grab her. She stopped and turned but jerked her arm from his grip.

“Hang on one goddamn minute, Josie. You don’t get to unload on me like that without letting me say my piece.”

Her jaw was set, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a breath and blew it out through her nose. She didn’t speak, which he took as all the permission he’d get.

“First of all, if you had gotten that letter, you would know that Tori and I never got back together. I took her to New Orleans, so we could have a shot at saving money and so she could go to school. Second, when I was with you, it was only you.” I wanted forever, he thought, but he pressed on, knowing the clock was ticking. “And I have been waiting on an answer to that letter for the last three years. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me because of Tori.”

“You’d have been right.”

“But not in the way I thought. And not for the reason you thought.” He searched her face as she staggered through the realization. “I’m not with her, and I haven’t been, not since before you and I were together. I wanted to work things out with you, but I thought…I thought when you didn’t answer, it meant you didn’t want me. I…I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Clearly.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and he didn’t know what else he could say. He finally landed on the one thing he’d been waiting to tell her for three years. “Josie, I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t change anything. None of this changes anything.” She said it like she was trying to convince herself, her eyes glistening as they welled with tears.

“That’s not true.”

“It is for me.”

His eyes were locked on hers, and he knew her words were a lie. She still cared, maybe just as much as he did.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Just who in the fuck do you think you are?” She backed away, her lip cranked up in disgust, her voice trembling. “Do me a favor, Jon. Stay away from me.”

He almost stopped her again when she spun around and took off. He had a hundred questions, a million things to say, but he just stood there like a fool on the sidewalk, rubbing his jaw as he watched her go.

All those years, she’d believed he was with Tori, that they were a happy little family. That she wasn’t important enough for him to even say goodbye when the truth was that it was the exact opposite. She hadn’t called because she didn’t know to, and that simple fact brought him enormous relief.

And with that relief was foolish hope that he could find a way to mend what he’d broken.

Jon’s eyes clicked back into focus when he blinked. He’d walked away that day reeling, trying to make sense of the truth, which had ended up being so far from what he’d thought for three full years. And it had all been a misunderstanding.

He couldn’t undo the damage, but he could try to win her back. All he had to do was give her time and space. All he had to do was be there, waiting.

He knew Josie well, knew how to handle her. She wasn’t one for grand gestures, especially not when she was pissed. Those chocolates would go straight down the garbage disposal, and the flowers would endure a full assault with a pair of scissors.

No, step one in winning Josie over was to leave her alone.

A month had gone by, and he’d run into her a handful of times. The first time he’d seen her after their fight, she’d apologized curtly for hitting him and shut him down hard when he attempted to talk about anything deeper than the weather. Every time they met, she would relax more and more until they were finally able to be civil, even joke around. When they’d been after Chester, he’d seen the silver lining. It was the friendliest she’d been.

But she had changed, closed herself off, and he didn’t believe it was just him she’d locked out. She had been hurt, and that hurt had hardened her to the point that the woman he had known was almost gone completely.

Almost, but not quite. He could still feel her, still see glimpses of who she had been. And he wanted to set that part of her free again. If it was in his power, he would.

It always took him a full twenty-four hours to get over seeing her. The cooling-off period was also accompanied by a deep-seated desire to get his feelings down on paper.

Seeing her was thrilling and heartbreaking, a war of emotions that blew through him and left him spinning. He’d throw on a smile and hide his pain behind his charm, hoping that, if he said the right thing, he could find a way back into her good graces, but she kept him just far enough away that he couldn’t get to her. He’d do what he could to make her laugh, but every moment would slip away too soon, and the hurt and disappointment in her bottomless brown eyes would cut through him again and again.

But it wasn’t Josie’s fault; it was his own. She’d been an innocent bystander who ended up with shrapnel through the heart, though he hadn’t fared much better.

Tori walked into the kitchen, yawning, and broke him from his thoughts. Her blond hair was in a knot, and he shook his head at her pajama pants that were covered in ponies and rainbows.

“Morning,” she said as she patted his shoulder.

“Mornin’.”

“I can’t believe Lola’s still asleep. What is it? Seven?” She shuffled across the room and reached for the coffee pot to pour a cup.

“You’d better knock on wood. The days when I wake up before her are a cherished thing. Two-year-olds are all fine and dandy as long as they’re not in your face at six in the morning.”

Tori stirred her coffee. “Yesterday, she got about an inch away from my nose and whispered, ‘Mommyyyy.’ I almost head-butted her when I jumped. Our kid can be a real creep.”

“Yeah, well, a couple of days ago, she managed to knee me in the balls when she was climbing into my bed at five thirty. That has to be the worst way to wake up, and it was an unfortunate first. Hopefully, the last.”

Tori leaned against the counter and laughed. “Oh, man. I would have loved to see that.”

“I bet you would have.”

She stretched her neck and sighed. “Sorry I was so late last night. This new job is killing me. Thank goodness the pay is amazing.”

“It was fine. Lola and I watched Cops.”

“You did not, Jon.” She looked about ninety percent convinced.

He leaned back in his seat and smiled sideways at her. “We watched Yo Gabba Gabba! It was like being on drugs.”

“Oh, come on. DJ Lance Rock is amazing. I think you should dress up as him for Halloween. We’ll get you an orange spandex jumpsuit and a giant fuzzy hat.”

“In your dreams.” He took a bite of his eggs and made a face when he remembered they were cold. “What’d they have you doing so late?” he asked as he put his fork down and pushed his plate away.

“It’s not easy being the low man on the totem pole at Prince and Smith CPAs,” she said with an eye roll. “I have the coffee order memorized for every lawyer in the office. I’m an expert paper shredder and bringer of bagels. I’m also learning quite a bit about auditing between my grunt duties.”

“Aren’t you glad you got your degree so you could haul coffee into a corporate skyscraper for a bunch of assholes?”

“In heels, mind you.”

“How long until you blow a gasket and pour coffee in someone’s file cabinet?”

“Never, I hope.” She sat across from him at the table. “I’m trying to keep my mouth shut.”

“You don’t keep your mouth shut about anything else, so I can see how this would be difficult. I can see you now, serving coffee to a guy named Eugene with that look you get when you’re trying not to cuss somebody out.”

“You’re so understanding.” Tori patted his hand. “The pay’s too good to screw it up. It’s just ironic that I quit waiting tables so that I could work in a real profession and ended up waiting offices in heels and a lady suit.” She took a sip of her coffee and flicked a wad of paper. “Looks like you’re going strong this morning.”

“Easy there. That happens to be my heart and soul you’re mocking.”

“You’ve been writing that letter for a month.”

He sighed and leaned on the table. “I can’t get it right, and I can’t give it to her until it’s perfect.”

“There’s no such thing as perfect. Just dump out your guts, sign your name, and give it to her,” she said simply.

Jon rolled his eyes. “I can’t just hand it to her. She’d probably light it on fire in front of me and blow the ashes in my eyes.”

“And then kick you in the nuts.”

“It’s like you can see into the future,” Jon fired back.

Tori shrugged. “Just go over to her house. She lives, like, a block away.”

“Yeah, thanks again for that. It’s hard enough to be back in New York, never mind sharing a parking garage with her.”

“What? I get to pick where my apartment will be. My parents live two blocks away, and I liked this place. Sorry.”

“Liar.”

Tori giggled. “No, you’re right. I’m not sorry.” She picked up her coffee and made the dopey face she always used to make fun of him. “Why not just call her and say something like, Hey there, Josie. My heart has a major boner for you that it can’t get over. I’m sorry I’m a stupid idiot and didn’t say goodbye when I ran away. Also, I love you. Does that help?” She took a sip of her coffee, looking over the rim at him with expectant eyes.

He snorted a laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

“So, when did you see her?” Tori asked as she put her coffee down.

“How do you know I’ve seen her?”

She looked bored. “Jon, you get that same schmoopy look on your face every time you think about her, and this morning when I walked in, you had it on again. I know you too well for you to get anything past me.”

“You’re relentless. You know that?”

“You’re annoying. This”—Tori motioned to him—“is why we never worked out. You never could handle me.”

“Oh, I recall handling you just fine.”

“You ass.” She laughed and threw his abandoned cloth napkin at him.

He caught it and threw it directly back, hitting her in the face.

“Goddammit, you really are annoying,” she said.

“I learned from the best.”

Tori stuck out her tongue and took a sip of her coffee. “So, when did you see her?”

He sat back in his seat. “Yesterday.”

“Awkwardness abounded?”

“As usual, but she didn’t insult me, not directly anyway. So, that’s progress, I suppose.”

“You need to just send her flowers,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You think you have all the answers, don’t you?”

She nodded emphatically.

“Listen, all I can do is try to prove that she can trust me. I have to believe that if I’m there for her, she’ll see the truth and forgive me. Thing is, she keeps slamming the door in my face, so I’ve got to find a window to climb in.”

“Are you still looking for that guy who killed Anne?”

Jon folded his arms across his chest. “Haven’t stopped since I found out she died, but I’ve only got as much to go on as the newspapers did, which is jack shit. I’ve been trying to let it lie until Josie calms down. I’m worried that asking her about it will set her off.”

“Think you’ll be able to bring it up soon?”

He shook his head and let out a breath. “I don’t know honestly. I know she hasn’t given up—that woman is a dog with a bone—but I can’t push her. I want to help her, but I can’t force her to accept it.”

Tori sat back and crossed her legs. “Maybe it’s time to try to press her to accept. I know you could help, and I’m sure she could use a hand. She’s got to be so far up that case’s ass, she sneezes crime facts.”

“You should write poetry.”

“I really should.” She reached for her romance novel with a pirate and a woman clutching each other on the cover.

He tilted his head to read the title. “Hidden Treasures? I don’t know how you read that stuff.”

She didn’t look up. “I use the same part of my brain that you use when you watch Dog the Bounty Hunter.”

“Goo’ morning!” Lola padded her way into the kitchen in footie pajamas, dragging her stuffed dog, Ruby, after her. Her blue eyes were bright, and her dark hair curled in fine waves just past her shoulders.

“Hey, baby.” Jon turned and opened his arms, hauling the toddler into his lap as soon as she was within reach. “You want some eggs?”

“Gross, Jon. Those are cold.”

“She doesn’t care. Look.”

Lola’s face was lit up like a lightbulb. “Eggies!” she squealed as she grabbed his fork, though it ended up being more for show as she used her chubby little hands to stop the eggs from falling back onto the plate.

Tori laughed, and Jon looked over his family, marveling at life and what a messy, glorious affair it was. For every bit of misfortune he’d had and every loss he’d endured, there was something beautiful that balanced it.

He tried to find a way to be thankful for that at least.

Artemis hoisted herself out of the pond near her camp and walked, dripping and naked, to the massive rock at the edge of the water. The mountains of her realm in Olympus stretched up to the blue sky all around her, and tall pines rustled in the breeze, their needles whispering.

She had climbed the slate of the boulder—her favorite perch—millions of times in her life. If ever she wished for a throne, it would be a deerskin atop that stone, the place where she sought peace and solace. A place where she remembered and tried to forget.

Artemis found the familiar handholds without needing to look as she climbed nimbly to the top, stretching out on the warm stone when she reached it. The sounds of her Oceanids giggling and squealing in the pool below floated up to her as they splashed about, some braiding each other’s hair, threading flowers through their tresses. Even after thousands of years, her companions still acted like girls.

Artemis smiled at the notion as she folded her hands behind her head and breathed deep, listening to the rustle of the trees around her as the sun’s rays warmed her skin.

Her thoughts drifted toward the competition and Aphrodite, and her smile fell. Artemis always enjoyed games with her Oceanids, and most of the other gods proved to be formidable opponents. She knew what to expect with Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, but playing at love?

How drab.

At least she could meddle in Aphrodite’s plans. The thought brought a smile back to her face. Any time she could be the cause of Aphrodite’s discomfort was a happy time indeed.

But all amusement faded away as she recalled Josie’s meeting with Jon the day before. Aphrodite had had something to do with the encounter, she was sure. The likelihood of the two accidentally being at the same bar and going after the same bail-jumper was nearly impossible. The notion made Artemis uneasy, but she found comfort in the even smaller likelihood that the meeting would affect the outcome of the game.

Josie was an ideal choice. Her instincts were strong, and she was an excellent huntress. She was capable and confident, with little care for love. Josie’s hurt and loss hadn’t diminished her spirit; it’d spurred her to build up her armor, particularly against Jon. He had the tallest wall of all to climb.

After Anne had died, Josie had retreated into herself, into her work, keeping herself busy as she waited for the time when the pain was behind her.

It was a feeling Artemis knew all too well.

Orion’s face filled her mind, but she took a breath and turned her attention to the things she could control.

Past the camaraderie she felt with Josie, Artemis knew the human would not be quick or open with her heart. Jon had hurt her so deeply that, of all the possible choices Aphrodite might have made, he had to be the least likely to succeed.

Artemis was certain Josie would never forgive him, for who could forget such a betrayal? She found she couldn’t fathom the concept. Relationships were black and white. There were rules, and once a rule was broken, trust was broken along with it. The connection had to be severed for preservation, for protection against the offender.

Forgiveness and acceptance were not concepts Artemis had patience for.

She sensed movement and opened her eyes just as Eleni flew up to the top of the rock. Eleni was Artemis’s second-in-command and was as impertinent and brazen as she was capable and loyal. She was a cloud nymph, a Nephelai, with milky-white skin that glittered against the sun and wings the color of a rain cloud. When her feet touched the stone, she twisted her dripping black hair over her shoulder, extending her wings until they shuddered and trembled, shaking excess water off.

“Am I interrupting your solitude, mistress?” Eleni asked.

“No, although I am not certain how riveting my company will be. Are you sure you’d not be happier with everyone else?”

She settled in next to Artemis. “It was all fun and games until I was assaulted by a flying lily pad.”

“Ah, that is never agreeable.”

“No, it is cold and slimy and fills me with rage,” she said cheerily as she closed her eyes. “Well done on your choice of player. Josie is quite talented, if not a bit prickly.”

“I suspect I have a fair chance of winning. Josie plainly loathes Jon.”

Eleni scoffed. “Loathing is not the word I would choose to describe her feelings.”

“She does loathe him,” Artemis shot back. “He abandoned her for another woman, a woman who had his child. Three years have passed, all while Josie stewed over that singular fact, cursing his name. And when he returned, he dredged up emotions she would rather have forgotten. He is a constant reminder of her pain.”

“Jon is loyal and did what he believed was right. He left Josie because of Tori, not for her. Very different.”

“He left her all the same. The reason is irrelevant.”

Eleni cocked an eyebrow.

“Would you forgive him if you were her?”

Eleni pondered the question for a moment as they watched the clouds roll by. “I would likely consider it if he was persistent. He is very handsome.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Artemis said on a laugh. “How very human of you.”

“Groveling and gifts wouldn’t hurt either,” Eleni said with a shrug.

Artemis snorted.

The Nephelai sighed. “Humans are not all that bad, you know.”

“Not that bad?” Artemis propped herself on her elbow with her mouth agape. “Truly?”

Eleni rolled her eyes, and Artemis’s narrowed in answer.

“You impudent nymph. Fortunately, you have use to me, or I might have banished you a hundred times before today.”

Eleni laughed, the sound like tinkling bells, and Artemis fought the urge to throttle her.

“Oh, let’s not be silly, Artemis. You would never banish me.”

“I cannot say that I remember why at the moment.” She gave Eleni a look as she ticked off points on her fingers. “Humans have overpopulated the world and are thus destroying it. They’ve slaughtered animals and each other, consumed everything they’ve touched like fire and tinder—so much, in fact, that we have moved here to escape their destructiveness. They’re just as stupid as ever, and lastly, they ruin everything.”

“Personally, I find them fascinating.” Eleni gazed up at the sky.

Artemis glared. “You are vexing. Do you know that?”

“I do,” she sang.

Artemis lay back on the warm stone and closed her eyes.

They soaked up the sun for a few minutes in silence before Eleni spoke again, “Do you have any specific plans for the game? Anything waiting to rip the poor, unsuspecting humans apart?”

“Strategy has never been my strong suit. I much prefer a good chase to a chess game.” Artemis sighed. “I do so hate this game with Aphrodite.”

“Yes, but you do enjoy winning in general.”

“True,” Artemis said with a smile up to the sky. “I believe I might have a way to convince Josie to leave town for a while, which should put a damper on Aphrodite’s plans.”

“I am not convinced Aphrodite has many plans. She has endured quite a lot as of late.”

The crispness of the morning clung to the breeze that pushed past.

“Oh, I doubt she lacks in ideas, but she is distracted. If I find anything to stoke that flame, I’ll use it.”

“Well, what all is distracting her? Ares, but stoking that seems unnecessarily cruel.”

Artemis nodded. “I agree. I am uninterested in involving Ares in any plans of mine. Her other immediate distraction is her loss of Adonis. I cannot make that any worse than it is, not with him in the underworld and well beyond my reach.”

“Yes, he is about as unreachable as one can be, and even if he wasn’t, he has no memory of his human life.”

“The only thing she could ever do is watch him…gods, Eleni. What about Echo’s mirror?”

Eleni’s face quirked in confusion. “Why ever would Echo need a mirror? She’s an apparition. She has no face.”

Artemis propped herself on her elbow and looked down at Eleni. “No, no. The mirror isn’t only a looking glass. It was Aphrodite’s once, long ago. Echo told me the story. You remember how Pan used to chase her before she was bodiless?”

“Her and every other nymph,” Eleni said with a wry half-smile.

“Well, yes, but particularly her. She and Aphrodite were quite close then. Everyone loved her stories before Hera cursed her to only speak echoes.”

“Hera and her curses. She’s the most spiteful, horrid, vindictive—”

“Yes, yes, but not the point. Aphrodite gave her the mirror, so she could evade the Satyr, but that particular mirror was also enchanted to see into the underworld.”

The plan clicked together behind Eleni’s eyes as she looked up at Artemis. “Brilliant. But why would Aphrodite ever have such a device?”

“To watch Adonis when Persephone held him captive in the underworld.”

Eleni sat up with a smile. “And you are positive Echo still has it?”

“There is only one way to find out,” Artemis said as she stood. “I will go to her and ask her to return it to Aphrodite.”

“What do you think Aphrodite will do?”

“If fortune finds me, Aphrodite will watch Adonis and do nothing else, which will allow me to retain control over the players.”

Eleni shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at Artemis. “It just might work.”

“Of course it will,” Artemis said with a grin, giddy at having a plan. “Round up the nymphs, and prepare for our afternoon hunt. I have an old friend to visit.”

“Yes, mistress.”

She turned to the edge of the rock, and the nymphs below moved to the shore, tilting their faces up to her as she lifted her arms and sprang from the ledge, falling down, down, until she slipped into the water like an arrow.

Artemis swam into the emerald depths of the small pond, past the rock face covered with plants that waved in the slow currents. She pulled herself through the entrance of a small cave with a natural skylight and looked up to the sun. Strands of her midnight hair hung in the water around her, much like her thoughts, which found their way to Orion again.

He had been her companion for many years before she realized what was truly between them, only to have him ripped away from her. The giant was a hunter and her best friend, though she had missed him for thousands of years, mourning what might have been had he not been killed. It had taken so long to understand that she loved him, and the shock and confusion of the revelation never found an end.

There was no resolution and never would be.

The moon was high and bright that night, and Artemis crouched behind a wild basil bush to mask her scent as she watched a buck in a clearing before her. She counted his points.

Eighteen. Orion will never beat me.

The creature lowered his head and nibbled on a patch of spring grass. He never heard Artemis draw her bow.

The arrow flew straight into his heart, and he took off at a sprint, only making it about a dozen meters before he collapsed. She trotted over to him and knelt down, laying her hand around the base of the arrow.

“Peace, noble brother,” she whispered reverently as he slipped away.

Artemis made quick work of field dressing the buck, eager to return to camp and see who had won.

She and Orion would compete often to see who might bring back the most, the biggest, the best. It was usually a draw, which both impressed and annoyed her.

She thought of his face when he had lost to her, and her heart fluttered like bird’s wings in her chest.

They were together almost always, spending long hours doing what they both loved. Hunting was their foremost recreation, the thrill of the track and the chase, the anticipation of finding what you sought and taking it for your own.

But it was more than that common enjoyment. Orion could make her laugh, truly laugh from deep in her belly and until she had no breath, a feat which was a rarity. He understood her and accepted her, never questioning, never expecting anything more than what she gave. He was her favorite companion, always there when she needed him and armed with the exact right thing to say. But it was more than that too, though she couldn’t be sure what more was, only that the prospect excited and disquieted her.

Artemis dragged the buck around the rock face to the clearing where their camp bustled in the dark. She easily spotted Orion, the giant, where he sat near the fire. His height was double hers, and she never liked being so much smaller than him, so when they were together, she would take on a larger form, though she never cared to hunt at that size. So ungainly, too difficult to stay silent. As soon as she saw him, she shifted to her giant form and looked across the camp with a smile.

Sirius, Orion’s dog, stood tall and lean and trotted over to her, snuffing her hand with her long nose. Artemis scratched the dog’s ear and looked back to Orion.

He sat with his back against a massive olive tree and his feet up near the fire. His hands were folded behind his blond head, and his smile was brighter than the stars, the type of smile that told her she’d likely lost. She felt herself flush and was unsure if it was due to the loss of their game or her nearness to him.

“What a sweet little buck, Artemis. Noble effort.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And where is your prize, Orion, King of Hubris?”

Orion jerked his chin toward a rack where his buck hung, and she held her breath as she counted the points with haste.

“Twenty? By the gods.” Exasperation was thick in her voice, and the buck was forgotten behind her.

Eleni approached. “Shall I finish cleaning this for you?”

“Yes, thank you.” Artemis took a seat next to Orion, and Sirius followed, curling up next to him with her eyes on the fire.

“You may tell me how superior I am now, Artemis.” The firelight cast shadows under his jaw and the slope of his lips as he taunted her.

“Oh, may I?” She crossed her ankles in front of her. “You are fortunate that I am exhausted and in no mood to smite you.”

“You would never smite me.”

She smiled at his certainty. “Would I not?”

“No,” he said with a chuckle as he shook his head. “I do not believe you would.”

“I have smote so many. You would just be one in a very long line.”

He leaned toward her, a smile playing on his wide mouth, his deep eyes twinkling. “You would never smite me, as you know what lies in my heart.”

He was so close, she could see his every eyelash. Even in the dark, she knew his eyes—blue with flecks of green and gold that shone in the firelight. Her breath quickened, and she wondered what was happening as she leaned into him, drawn to him like a siren call.

Eleni cleared her throat, and Artemis blinked a few times with a laugh as she turned away and dusted off her boots, the sound far less awkward than she felt as she tried to find her footing again.

“Well, nicely done on your buck. You won today, friend, but tomorrow, you will not be so fortunate.”

Orion leaned back with a strange look on his face. “Yes, Artemis, there is always tomorrow.”

Confusion wriggled through her as she realized that she had almost kissed him.

Is that so hard to believe?

Orion was everything she wished for in a companion, and she wanted to be with him always.

And it was then that she wondered…could she feel love?

But it was impossible. She could never take a lover.

Artemis was a virgin goddess, the maiden. It was a title she had requested from her father, Zeus, wishing to escape the prison of marriage and duty that women were bound to, preferring to retain her freedom. But Orion already held power over her, power she didn’t understand and hadn’t knowingly given, and for a fleeting moment, she understood what love was, saw it laid out before her like an ocean.

Artemis pushed the thought away and cleared her mind. She had no care for love, or so she told herself, but still considered speaking to Aphrodite. The goddess of love would understand the makings of her heart better than she and perhaps would give her guidance.

But she balked at the ludicrous notion. Artemis, in love? Pure fantasy.

Artemis looked up at the sun pouring into the skylight, the rays cutting through the dark water in wedges, as she floated in her reverie. Looking back never brought peace, only pain.

In that way lies madness.

She knew all too well that was truth. She had tortured herself with the past for so long that she was a shell, so constricted at her core that she was calcified, a hardened version of who she had once been.

Orion was the closest she had ever come to love, but he had been stolen from her, gone forever, and she could not heal. The wound only festered, and the sadness and unfairness of it all twisted around her heart, poisoning her.

Artemis swam through the open crag, looking up at her nymphs as she made her way back to the present, leaving her memories in the black below. They watched her as she swam away with longing.

The sun was barely up when Josie rolled over in bed, and her mind switched on like a lightbulb as she ticked through her schedule for the day. It would start like it always did—with a run, then shower, breakfast, and work. Her day was planned out, every minute filled with something productive. She hated the feeling of having nothing to do, mostly because, when she was idle, she couldn’t help but think about all the things she’d lost.

She saw Jon’s face behind her closed lids and opened her eyes to banish him. She stretched for her phone, sighing when she noted that her alarm wasn’t set to go off for another fifteen minutes.

Jon. His name rang clear in her mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

She hated seeing him, hated how she felt after, like someone had cut her kite string and she was left untethered, whipping around in the wind.

Josie slung her legs out of bed and forced lingering thoughts of Jon from her mind, wishing there were a way to permanently eject him from her head and life. Her temporary fix was yoga, which was equal parts therapy and exercise, a way for her to control her body and find focus. It was the emotional equivalent of a reset button.

She lifted her arms up in a sun salutation, breathing deep and exhaling before she bent over, hanging her arms, her knuckles grazing the rug, breathing in time as she pushed out to downward dog.

Exhale the bullshit.

Her smoky-gray cat, Ricochet, strutted into her eyeline and flicked his tail in her face.

“You’re crushing my Zen, Rick.”

He meowed back.

She sighed and stood, scooping up her cat to kiss him on the head. “I’m sorry. You hungry, kitty boy?”

He looked up at her with yellow eyes, and she walked into the kitchen where she deposited him on the counter.

She held up two cans of Fancy Feast. “Chicken Florentine or Salmon Tuscany?”

He tilted his head.

“I know. It’s ridiculous. You eat better than I do.”

Josie popped open the Florentine and dumped it into Ricochet’s dish, hit the button on her coffeemaker, which was already prepped and ready, and made her way back into her room to throw on running shorts and a sports bra. She grabbed her fat rubber watch off the counter and put it on, giving Rick a pat on the head before pulling on her running shoes in the almost silent apartment.

It was the one thing she could never get used to—the quiet. She almost always had music going to fill the silence that had once been occupied by Anne, and she missed that feeling, that presence of another person. Sensing them in the other room, knowing they were there. Josie shook her head as she closed her door and descended the stairs, trying to stop her memories as they crawled through her mind.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost seven, and the sun was golden, full of promise, the first days of spring. It was one of those days that was a glimpse past the cold winter and into the future, though it was fleeting; the chill would swing back in and wipe away the traces of warmth. But she reveled in the moment as she took off running toward the Hudson.

Leave the past where it is.

Josie’s arms pumped harder as she picked up her pace.

Josie had met Anne her junior year of high school. Anne had been sitting at a lunch table alone, glossy, thick auburn hair tumbling over her shoulder, reading manga and wearing a T-shirt with a K-Pop star on it. Her purple cat-eye glasses had slipped down her nose as she polished off a Rice Krispies Treat, and her fingers had stuck to her comic when she tried to turn the page.

Josie had never seen her before and was curious about the quirky girl engaged in a sticky-fingered ninja fight with a comic book, so she’d joined Anne. The minute Anne had made a joke that relied heavily on a Star Trek reference, Josie had known they were meant to be.

They’d become instant friends and were inseparable through high school, but Josie hadn’t fully understood how much she needed Anne until she was rejected from the police academy. When the X-rays from her physical had shown the slightest of abnormal curves in her spine, it had been enough to have her permanently disqualified. It had been her darkest time—to realize she could never have her dream, never have what she’d wanted ever since she was a little girl.

But then Anne had swooped in with the brilliant idea to become PIs. Investigating was the next best thing, if not better. Josie was independent, with avenues and resources the police didn’t have, and she and Anne had both been good at their job. Very good.

So, at eighteen, the girls had moved into their apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, one of a few properties that had been in Josie’s family for decades. They had taken their classes and put in apprentice hours, which was made easy by Josie’s dad’s connections. Before long at all, they’d had steady work, doing something they both loved and excelled at. Anne had been the researcher, the coordinator, and Josie was the face, the muscle.

They’d worked that way for ten years until the day that Hannah Mills’s parents asked them to find their daughter, and everything had changed.

Josie and Anne had been sitting at their desks for hours, all day and into the night. The room was dark, though their faces were illuminated by their laptop screens as they searched the internet in tank tops and panties, neither willing to break away long enough to get dressed. Chinese take-out boxes littered their desks that stood facing each other in the living room.

Josie’s eyes never left the screen as she typed in another search term, fished around in the lo mein with her chopsticks, and brought a bite to her lips.

Hannah Mills, a sixteen-year-old cheerleader from just across the river in Weehawken, New Jersey, had gone missing two weeks before, and her tearful parents had come to Josie and Anne when the police hit a dead end. Hannah never made it home from cheerleading practice, and there had been no sign of her since she walked out of the school doors. The Mills only wanted to know what had happened to their child and said they understood the chances of finding her alive were slim.

Josie wondered if anyone could really understand something so grim.

She’d been working with the detective on Hannah’s case, her father’s friend from the academy. She and Dennis had been sharing information from the start, though neither of them had much to go on.

In the first few days after they had been hired, Josie had canvassed the Mills’ neighborhood via the pathway that Hannah had walked home. It was October, and the days were getting shorter, so by the time Hannah had passed through the neighborhood, it would have been dark outside. No one had seen anything.

There was one resident though, Corey Rhodes, who had thrown her red flags. Josie couldn’t put her finger on why—he’d seemed perfectly normal. He was in his mid-forties, built in that bulldoggish, barrel-chested way, and was charming but with an air of superiority. Really, there was just something in his mannerisms, in his choice of words, something in his smile that had set off alarms.

That was two days before, and she and Anne had been researching him ever since.

His criminal history was nonexistent. The man didn’t even have so much as a parking ticket, never mind something they could connect to Hannah. He had grown up in Deer Lodge, Montana, but went to college in Boston before moving to the city where he’d been working in advertising for the last twenty-some-odd years. His credit was in the seven hundreds. He’d never been married. On paper, nothing stood out about him at all, but her gut had never steered her wrong, so they were still digging.

Josie shoveled more noodles into her mouth and set her dinner down, drumming her fingers on the desk before typing in another search term.

She’d chased the Google rabbit through the internet, looking for anything on Rhodes, but she’d come up empty. There were a few articles from his college days playing football in Boston, but before and after that, she couldn’t find a thing. She wondered if she could learn anything through his hometown—figuring that, like most small towns, half of the news was about high school sports—but the newspaper was so small that their website had nothing more than a few days old. She checked out the Helena Independent Reviewer, hoping that Montana’s capital city would at least have archives back through the ’80s, but she hit a dead end there, too.

Josie sighed and sat back in her chair.

Anne extended her orange chicken, and Josie accepted, trading her lo mein.

“Anything?” Anne leaned over the box and scooped noodles into her mouth.

“Nothing. I’m pretty sure I’ve read every article on him twice.”

Anne pushed her glasses up her nose. “Me too. I can’t find much on his parents either. His father died when he was fourteen, and after he moved to Jersey, his mom relocated. She died of cancer a few years ago.”

Josie looked through her computer, unable to focus her eyes. “I think I’m going to have to order copies of the newspapers from the library in his hometown, but I don’t know how long that will take. I feel like there’s got to be something there. If he played college football, he would have played in high school, so someone would have to know him and remember him. I just wonder what’s hiding in that little town.”

Anne chewed with one eye on Josie. “How sure are you of this hunch?”

“It’s called a hunch for a reason, and there’s no being sure of one. There’s no reason for me to be suspicious, but I am.”

Anne ate in silence for a beat. “Something bad happened to Hannah. I know that in my own gut, especially after talking to her friends and her boyfriend. She didn’t run away, and she wasn’t into anything that would have gotten her in trouble. Something happened to her on the way home, and I don’t think it was random. She’s too old to be hopping into windowless vans. So, if you say Rhodes has something to do with it, I’m gonna take your word for it.”

Josie heard the opening and took it. “You think I should fly to Montana?”

Anne nodded. “Otherwise, we’ll be sitting on our asses for weeks, waiting on newspapers. Plus, we all know that you talking to the people of that town in person will get you further than over the phone. If nothing else, we can rule out our only suspect.” Anne lifted noodles out of the paper carton and shoved them into her mouth, saying around them, “While you’re gone, I’ll tail Rhodes and see what I can dig up.”

“You sure about this?”

“As sure as you are. Can’t hurt to try, right?” Anne shrugged.

“All right. Don’t forget to put on pants and a bra before you go chasing the potential kidnapper.” Josie motioned to Anne’s naked legs.

“You can’t tell me what to do. Plus, if he caught me, he’d never remember what my face looked like,” she said as she shimmied her shoulders, which incidentally made her boobs knock into each other.

“I’ve always said you should have done burlesque with those puppies. Now, find me a flight.”

“Yes, sir,” Anne said with a salute.

The following afternoon, Josie found herself walking up the stone steps of the library in Deer Lodge, Montana, and was charmed by the old building as she passed between stone columns to the deep mahogany door. An elderly woman sat behind the desk with her gray hair in a tight bun and her rosy cheeks a companion to her smile. The nameplate on the counter said Mrs. Herold.

“Well, hello, dear. What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Mrs. Herold. I was hoping to look back through some of your old newspapers.”

“Of course,” she said with twinkling eyes. She adjusted her shawl around her shoulders. “We have every issue of the Silver State Post since its first publication in 1887. What are you looking for? Perhaps I could help you. I’ve lived my whole life in this town, seventy-two years,” she added with pride.

“Thank you. Actually, I could use your help.” Josie leaned on the counter. “Do you know the name Corey Rhodes?”

A shadow moved behind her eyes. “Yes, I do know that name. He was one of our star football players some years ago.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“May I ask who you are?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m an investigator in the New York metropolitan area, and Mr. Rhodes lives near where a girl went missing a few weeks ago.”

“Oh my,” she breathed as the color rose in her cheeks. “Is he a suspect?”

“No, not officially.”

Mrs. Herold nodded. “Well, his mother and I were very close when he was young, and our husbands worked together at the prison before hers passed away. Diane did the best she could with him, but something was always just a bit…”

“Off?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that.” She shifted on her stool. “He went steady with Jane Bernard, and when she turned up dead after a storm, he was the only suspect.”

Josie’s thoughts flew into overdrive. She’d known she’d find something, but she was entirely unprepared for the reality.

Mrs. Herold continued, “She was found in the woods by some hunters several days after she went missing. They said she’d been strangled to death, the poor girl.”

“When did this happen?”

“Well, let me think…” The lines at the corners of her eyes deepened as she recollected. “I believe that was in the fall of 1984. Corey was never arrested. The town rallied behind him and his story—that he had dropped her off at the Dairy Queen after they got in a fight. It snowed after she went missing, but half of the town went out looking for Jane.” Her eyes were sad, her brows heavy. “So much promise. She was so young, the head of the cheerleading squad, if I remember right. My own son went to school with them at the time, though he was a few years younger.”

Cold understanding slid down her spine. “Thank you, Mrs. Herold. This is all very helpful.”

“You’re welcome, dear. You just let me know if you have any other questions you can think of. And you should call on Sheriff Jackson. He pressed for that boy to be arrested, but nothing ever came of it. I’m sure he would have some insight, if that’s the type of information you’re looking for.”

“Maybe I’ll head over there after I have a look at the newspapers from that fall. Do you have a photocopier?”

“Yes, back by the office. I’ll show you the way, but first, let me have Troy get those papers for you.”

She slipped off the stool and made her way to the corner but jumped when she almost ran into a lanky man who stood just on the other side.

“Troy!” Her hand flew to her chest. “For goodness’ sake, you about scared the life out of me. Would you be so kind as to pull the newspapers from September to November of 1984 for this young woman?”

He eyed Josie but nodded. “Sure thing, Mrs. H.”

She turned back to Josie and smiled kindly again. “Have a seat, and Troy will be back with those papers for you in a snap.”

Josie spent the rest of the afternoon reading through the old papers and photocopying articles, all while a tall, skinny, middle-aged Troy stared her down from various points around the small building.

Once she gathered her things and thanked Mrs. Herold, she made her way across town to the home of Sheriff Jackson.

She stood on the porch of his craftsman home and knocked, and when the door opened, it was to a man in a cardigan and button-down with salt-and-pepper hair to match his push-broom mustache, which quirked when he smiled.

“Sheriff Jackson?” she asked.

“I haven’t been Sheriff Jackson in fifteen years. Saul’s the name. And you are?”

“Josie Campbell. Nice to meet you, sir. I have some questions for you, if the name Corey Rhodes rings a bell?”

Surprise registered on his face. “It rings more than a bell, more like a firing squad. Are you a reporter?”

“An investigator.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile. “That would have been my next guess. Come on in.” He moved aside and pulled the door open wide.

She stepped into the foyer, and he closed the door behind him.

“Coffee?” he asked over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

“Please. Just sugar.”

“My kinda girl.”

He nodded to a barstool at the island, and Josie took a seat.

“What can I do for you, Josie?”

“I’ve just come from the library, and I read through the newspaper accounts of Jane Bernard’s case.”

“And what had you digging around that old story?” His voice held a hint of challenge as he poured her a cup of coffee.

“A young girl, a cheerleader, went missing a few weeks ago in New Jersey. Her body hasn’t been found, and Rhodes happens to live on her path home from school.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a reason to fly all the way out here to read some dusty old newspapers.”

He handed her the mug, and she accepted, meeting his eyes that held more knowledge than he was giving up.

“Call it a hunch.”

Saul sat down across from her, amused. “I know the feeling.” He took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “What do you want to know?”

“Do you think Rhodes killed Jane Bernard?”

He looked at her for a long moment before answering, “I do.”

“But you could never prove it.”

Saul shook his head and let out a resigned sigh. “I couldn’t. There was no DNA then. Hell, we’d barely heard of it in ’84, and it wasn’t until almost ten years later that we had resources for DNA testing in Helena. Unfortunately, those hunches that we’re so fond of don’t hold up all too well as evidence in the judicial system, and I didn’t have anything else to go on.”

“From what I know of him, I’m not surprised he didn’t give anything up.”

“Never. The kid was stone cold, and the town wanted to hear none of my babbling about it. You have to understand that Rhodes was a star player on the football team. He seemed normal, whatever that is, but a few of us picked up on there being something more to his story. No one seemed to care though. I had no evidence either way, only his word against my suspicion, and that was enough for the town.”

“I wasn’t able to find record of this in any of the databases I have access to.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. We didn’t get a full-on database system until the mid-nineties. Up to that point, all our records were paper copies, and in 1992, there was a fire in the courthouse. The records room was destroyed along with all the case files.”

Josie set her coffee down and ran a hand over her mouth. “Shit.”

“Well,” he said with a spark in his eyes, “I might have a bright spot on your horizon. I’ve got something you’ll want to see.”

Saul stood and motioned for her to follow him, which she did. In his office, he opened the closet and knelt down to pull out a small storage box with the name Bernard written on it.

He set the box down on his desk and pulled off the lid. Inside was a mass of information—crime scene photos, case files, interview cassette tapes. She shuffled them around and saw the edge of a copy of the suspect’s fingerprints. Her fingers went numb as she lifted them out of the box. She looked up at Saul.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Now, don’t gimme that look. None of this is admissible, you know. I’m fairly certain that a box in the bottom of my closet will somehow not stand up against chain-of-custody requirements. All of these are copies or duplicates of the originals, but you’re welcome to them if they’ll help you. They’re not doing anybody any good here, collecting dust, not when this case has been dead as a doornail for thirty years.”

“Saul, this means the world to me and maybe to the parents of Hannah Mills.”

“That’s her name?”

“It is.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to light a candle for the girl. And I hope you find the bastard who took her.”

On the flight back to New York, Josie read through Jane Bernard’s case and autopsy report.

Jane had been raped and strangled, but no other evidence had been found, not after she was left in the elements for days. Josie spent a long while looking at a photo of Jane, a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl with an air of confidence about her though not quite innocent.

Her physical features were close enough to Hannah’s that Josie found herself unnerved.

By the time she trudged up the stairs with the box of clues and stacks of articles, she was exhausted. The look on Anne’s face when she saw what Josie had found was priceless, and Josie wondered how close it was to the look she had worn when Saul gave the box to her. Her mouth hung open, her eyes big, like they’d discovered the holy grail of evidence, though it was all still a stretch.

It was then that Josie’s phone rang, and her exhaustion instantly left her when she saw that it was Dennis, the lead detective on Hannah’s case.

Josie hit Accept. “Dennis, I have news.”

“Me too, but…it’s not good, Josie.” He paused for a second, and she held her breath. “We found Hannah’s body.”

“Oh my God.” Josie sat down on the couch. She realized then that she’d been holding out some small hope that Hannah was still alive, hope that left her in a rush. “Where?”

“Delaware Water Gap, in the national park. She was found by some hikers, washed up on the riverbank. We just got a positive ID.” He waited through a stretch of silence. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” She took a deep breath. “I just got back from Montana with a boxful of case files on the murder of a sixteen-year-old cheerleader, the girlfriend of Corey Rhodes in 1984.”

“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “What did you find out?”

“The old sheriff believes he did it. I have fingerprints, Dennis.”

“Willing to share?”

“Of course. But I want to see her body.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

“Josie…”

She laid her forehead in her palm. “I know. I just want to see her.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, he was resigned. “All right. They took her body to the Sussex County Coroner. I’m here waiting for her family. Meet me in an hour.”

She looked at her watch. It was seven, plenty of time with no traffic. “Okay. Anne will get everything scanned, and I’ll bring you copies tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Good luck with the Mills, Dennis.”

“I tried to convince them not to come, that they don’t want to see her like this, but they wouldn’t hear it. They never do.”

“I know. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Thanks, kid. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She hung up and turned to Anne, who had paused to listen to Josie’s half of the conversation with her lip between her teeth.

Josie nodded, and Anne hung her head.

“I’ve got to get going if I’m going to get to the coroner’s in time.”

Anne looked solemnly down into the box. “I’ll get all of this scanned, and we can start the real dig tomorrow.”

Josie peeled herself off the couch, her body heavy from exhaustion and the weight of knowing that Hannah was dead. She wanted to see Hannah with her own eyes, to have her own perspective to compare the case files to in the hopes that she could find some connection, some parallel.

“I’ll be back,” Josie said as she grabbed her keys.

“I’ll be here.” Anne gave her a sympathetic smile and ran a hand down Josie’s arm. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

Josie hit no traffic, and the city fell behind her as she drove through rural New Jersey with her windows down and radio blaring, her hair whipping around her face, her mind rolling over and over everything she’d learned.

When she reached the coroner’s office, she hauled herself inside and found Dennis in the waiting room, looking rumpled. He sat low in his chair, his tie was a little loose, his coat hanging on his sloped shoulders. He looked tired, his mocha skin ashen, with dark circles under his eyes.

He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit up straighter. “I cannot believe I’m about to let you in there.”

“You said that last time.” She sat down in a chair next to him. “How did it go?”

He leaned forward, shaking his head as he looked down at the linoleum between his feet. “It never gets easier, and when they’re so young…”

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know.”

Dennis glanced at her. “You ready for this?”

“Can anyone be ready for what I’m about to see?”

“Not a single person in the world,” he said as he stood.

They walked down the long hallway and through a set of double doors to the morgue. Metal walls lined one side of the room, marked by a grid of compartments with handles on each. The only sounds were their footfalls, underlined by the hum from the refrigerated wall and the buzzing from the fluorescent lights. Goosebumps broke out up and down her arms when they came to a stop in front of a metal door, and Dennis laid his hand on the handle.

He gave her an apologetic look before he slid the compartment out.

The musty smell of damp leaves hit her nose, and Josie took a step back when she saw the girl on the slab. Her skin was dark and tight, pulled over her bones and cracking like leather, a shocking contrast to the life in her crimson cheerleading uniform. Her hair, which was once blond and bright, was now dull and yellow, thin and sparse.

Dennis handed her a file. “It seems she was in the water for about thirty-six hours before she washed up. We didn’t have much rain after she was exposed, and the dry conditions combined with the plastic she was wrapped in did this to her. The coroner’s report says she died of asphyxiation, determined by a crushed hyoid bone.”

Josie went numb. “Strangled?”

He nodded. “There was nothing to suggest a garrote was used. She was likely strangled by hand.”

Her hands were cold as it clicked together. “Dennis, Rhodes’s high school girlfriend was killed the same way. Raped and strangled with a broken hyoid.”

Dennis stood still. “We believe Hannah was raped.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered with her eyes on the girl.

Dennis hung his hands on his hips. “I need those files, Josie. Can you bring them to me first thing? It’s circumstantial, but it’s a lead.”

“Absolutely. I’ll even bring them to you tonight.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. You look like you could use some rest.”

Josie couldn’t take her eyes off Hannah. “I have a feeling I won’t sleep much tonight.”

“I know what you mean,” he said as he looked down at the girl’s body.

Josie read through the autopsy file and looked over Hannah, feeling the gravity of it all, shrugging off her anger and focusing on what she could change. She could help find who had killed Hannah Mills.

It was almost eleven by the time Josie trudged up the stairs of her apartment, wanting nothing more than a long, hot bath and a tall, stiff drink. She unlocked the door and opened it, freezing in the doorframe when she saw what waited inside.

Her eyes caught every detail.

A lamp lay on the ground, shining light at wrong angles, casting long, odd shadows against the wall. Josie scanned the room, noting that Anne’s laptop wasn’t on her desk and neither was the case file box.

She pulled her gun and silently made her way through the living room with her heart thumping in her chest. She spotted a small pool of blood on the floor and stared at it for a moment with her mind charging through scenarios (maybe she’d cut her hand, maybe the cat was hurt, maybe, maybe, maybe).

It was then that she heard the shower running and moved toward the bathroom.

The sound was so familiar, it convinced some corner of her brain that the common noise meant everything had to be fine. She walked toward the door, a slit of light from the crack stretching toward her like a pathway, drawing her forward. When she reached the door, she pushed it open with her foot, and her arms fell, her gun clattering to the wet tiled floor.

Anne was lying in the claw-foot tub with one arm draped over the side and her face turned to Josie, her blue eyes sightless and dim and empty. Water spilled over the brim of the bathtub, running down Anne’s auburn hair and to the ground, dripping on the tiles, as the shower endlessly streamed down.

“Annie,” Josie whispered, rushing to her side. She touched Anne’s cold, wet face, desperate and disbelieving. “Annie, wake up,” she begged uselessly, the words like fire in her throat.

She laid her trembling fingers at Anne’s bruised, purple neck but could find no pulse. Anne’s shirt was torn, her bra exposed. Her panties were gone, her leggings shredded and hanging off her ankles.

And Josie climbed into the tub with her, the cold water spilling out, seeping into her bones. Her tears mingled with the water raining down on her as she pumped Anne’s chest, knowing it was futile but trying to save her all the same.

Josie’s legs and lungs burned as she stood in front of the river with her hands on her hips, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Tears rolled down her sweaty cheeks, but she didn’t even bother to wipe them away, just turned and sprinted back toward her apartment.

There hadn’t been a single official lead on who had killed Anne. No fingerprints. No DNA. But Josie knew who had done it. She just couldn’t prove it, and that was the worst kind of hell she could live through.

By the time she reached her place, she was spent, her legs numb and lungs on fire. She unlocked her door and closed it behind her before lying out flat on her living room floor, panting and aching. Ricochet slinked up and climbed onto her chest, purring like a little motor.

“I know, Ricky. I still have you, right?”

He just looked at her with wide eyes.

Her heart was in a vise, the screws so tight, she couldn’t breathe. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

He kneaded his paws on her chest, and she ran her hand down his neck and back, but even as exhausted as she was, she couldn’t be still. She grabbed her cat under his arms and stood, cradling him to her chest as she made her way into her bedroom, dumping him onto the bed. Then, she peeled off her sweaty clothes and discarded them in the hamper in her bathroom.

She’d almost moved, even stayed with her parents for some time, but in the end, she’d decided to come back. Her older brother, Paul, had offered to let her have his place since it was also a family property, and their place was bigger, but with Gia pregnant, she couldn’t agree. Instead, she’d renovated. The once cheery yellow walls had been painted gray, and the claw-foot had been replaced with a standing shower. It still smelled of paint and new construction, the scent lingering along with her memories.

Josie turned on the water and stepped into the stream. A shiver ran through her, subsiding as the water warmed, then steamed. She turned it as hot as she could stand it and ran her hands over her hair, lifting her face to the water as she wished she could wash everything away, scrub and clean her heart until she was new again.

The skin on her shoulders and chest were bright pink when she finally turned the shower off and stepped out. She dried off and dressed, feeling a little more grounded after the hot water burned down her memories until they were quiet again. She twisted up the damp copper mess as she walked into the kitchen to grab a Pop-Tart, not even bothering to put it in the toaster.

Josie stopped in front of Anne’s door and laid her hand on the wooden doorframe. Maybe she was ready. She’d eventually have to go inside, but she hadn’t been able to enter the room, not after the first time.

It had only been a few weeks after Anne died, and Josie had been armed with boxes and resolve. But one look in that room had been enough, and Josie had closed the door. She hadn’t opened it again.

Her hand slipped away, and she turned for her living room, glancing at the breakfast pastry. It looked like cardboard all of a sudden, and she dropped it in her desk trash can, no longer hungry.

Instead, Josie lay down on the couch to face the long wall where her crime shrine hung.

Stretched across the length of the wall were columns of articles and photographs of the girls Rhodes had killed, papers and newspaper clippings, all connected by a web of red string with Rhodes in the center. They were divided by year, starting with when Jane Bernard had been killed, running all the way through Anne, with every murder in between, every kill she thought he might be connected with. Using the details of how Hannah and Jane had been killed, Josie had found dozens of unsolved murders that fit, mostly of prostitutes who had been found in the Hudson.

It had started off innocently enough for Josie, just looking for any connection, anywhere. But, before long, she had obsessively scoured the daily papers and the old archived databases, looking for any murders that fit the bill. Strangulation. Women wrapped in plastic, dumped in a waterway. When there was an ID, the family members and friends had claimed jewelry was missing.

Josie had searched for the keys to Rhodes’s MO and found dozens of cases starting in the late ’80s that she believed he was responsible for. She’d weeded through them at lightning speed, quickly assembling the wall of connections. Saul had recounted all the lost evidence by memory and sent photocopies of the old newspaper articles on Jane Bernard’s death. Josie had had access to all the evidence on Hannah and Anne already, and from there, it had been filling in the gap between Jane and Hannah.

Hannah looked so much like Jane, even down to the bright red cheerleading uniform, and Josie knew Hannah must have triggered him. And Anne…the only thing that made sense was that Rhodes had somehow known they had information, and Anne had surprised him when he came to steal it. All the girls in between Hannah and Jane had been clean kills with no connections, missing for days and days before they were even reported.

Josie had enlisted the reluctant help of her father, who was the captain of the station handling Anne’s murder. Their agreement was that she would pass off anything she found to him, though she suspected he’d only consented so that he could keep an eye on her, knowing she would never give it up. Hank had agreed on Rhodes’s pattern and the connections Josie had made, but without DNA, evidence, or witnesses, they had nothing.

That was when the real search had begun. Josie had pounded more pavement, talking to detectives, hookers, and families and friends of the dead girls, trying to find out as much as she could with the hope that something would lead her back to Rhodes. Some detectives had been forthcoming. Some wouldn’t give her the time. A few had been convinced she’d uncovered a serial killer while others just called her crazy.

But Josie never stopped looking.

She spent much of her free time on her most dangerous hobby—tailing Rhodes. She knew him, knew his daily routine. She knew his favorite coffee shop and what time he worked out. If she watched him, she could catch him. If she followed him, she could stop him from hurting anyone again.

But he never put a toe out of line, and on her worst days, she’d wonder if she’d stretched the whole thing together, patched it up with duct tape and bubblegum, and convinced herself he was a killer. It was all she had to hold on to, and she felt it was right, but how could she even be sure?

Most days, she wouldn’t think about it, but the ones when she did were dark.

No one knew how much of her time and energy she put into Rhodes. They couldn’t understand. They’d think she’d lost it, and maybe they’d be right, but chasing Rhodes was the only thing in her life that made sense, and she couldn’t let it go. Not as long as he was walking free.

The wind whipped Artemis’s robes against her legs as she clung to the side of a high rock face with her eyes on a cave opening above her. Her legs strained as she hung on the cliff and pushed off, swinging to another hold, easily finding footholds as she leveraged her way up with grace and ease. She hoisted herself onto the ledge, pausing for a moment to catch her breath at the entrance to Echo’s cave.

Echo was a tree nymph who had been known for telling beautiful tales of love and adventure and would often entertain the gods and nymphs alike. On the day she had been cursed, she’d distracted Hera with one of her stories as Zeus escaped a tryst with one of her nymph sisters, and when Hera had realized what had happened, she’d cursed Echo. From that moment on, she was only able to speak the last words she’d heard. Years later, Echo had fallen in love with Narcissus, a beautiful man who could only love himself, and she’d wasted away, pining after him until nothing was left but her voice.

Artemis was the goddess of all nymphs, the caregiver to all creatures of the wild, and when they’d fled Earth to make their home in the new Olympus, Echo had followed. Preferring solitude, she had made her home high in a mountain cave.

Artemis’s hands were on her hips as she breathed deep, looking out over her realm as the wind swept across her body. Mountains stretched out into the distance, green and lush, and rolling hills and meadows dotted with trees filled the valley below. A waterfall roared from the top of the cliff, misting her with water, and she was thankful for its chill after the climb.

She walked into the cool stone passage, laying her palm against the slate, hearing water rush somewhere above her. When she stepped out on the other side, she was in Echo’s cave.

Water poured in from the skylight of the domed cave, collecting in a topaz pool ringed with myrtles and laurels standing in spring grass peppered with flowers. Near the opening where the sunshine poured in, small birds flitted, tweeting and chirping merrily.

At the far end of the cave were shelves made of stone, filled with Echo’s things. There were pots and paintings, scrolls and wildflowers. The light caught on the mirror, and Artemis was relieved it was still in the nymph’s possession.

“Echo?” Artemis called.

But there was no echo of the sound, an eerie sensation in the open rock where the sound should have bounced back to her. She looked around for the nymph, usually able to see her by the soft sheen of her spirit, but Artemis found her nowhere.

An entrance to another passage lay just beyond Echo’s shelves, and Artemis made her way through it. The path grew blacker with every step she took, and the sound of her footsteps reverberated off the walls.

“Echo?”

The word was absorbed into the blackness.

Goosebumps prickled Artemis’s skin as she followed the trickling sound of water, and the passage opened up again into a smaller chamber, dark and heavy.

“Echo? It is I, Artemis.”

Echo was a wisp, a shimmering apparition. With no light to interfere, Artemis could see the nymph who once was. Echo was looking down into a small pool of water in the rock floor. Her hair hung in loose waves, and her face was like a sprite with wide lips and a dainty nose.

She turned her sad eyes to Artemis and smiled. “Artemis,” she said, her voice hollow.

“Hello, friend.” Artemis took a seat next to her on the cold stone, watching as she shimmered and shone in blues and whites and purples; her soul was the only source of light in the room.

“Hello, friend.” The nymph folded her hands in her lap.

“I hope that you are well. It has been too long.”

Echo nodded, though her face held curiosity.

“I’m sure you must be wondering the purpose of my visit.”

The nymph nodded again.

“I came to petition you on behalf of Aphrodite.”

Echo raised an eyebrow. “Aphrodite?”

Artemis smiled. “Yes, Aphrodite. She has lost Adonis.”

“Lost Adonis?” Her brows knit together.

“She left him, and he drank Lethe.”

“Lethe…” she breathed, her hand covering her mouth.

“Yes. He has forgotten everything.” Artemis glanced into the black pool of water. “You still have Aphrodite’s mirror. May I ask if you still watch Narcissus in Asphodel?”

Echo bit her lip and nodded.

“Often?”

She shook her head.

Artemis felt the weight of Echo’s curse, mourned the life the nymph could have had, felt the grief over all she’d lost, but she pushed the thought away, finding resolve. Echo had loved so much that she lost everything, which was exactly the reason Artemis was convinced that love was more cruel than kind.

“Aphrodite has only just lost her love. I thought that perhaps you might give the mirror back.”

“Give the mirror back?” There was fear in her words, and Artemis wished she could offer the comfort of touch.

Instead, she trailed her fingers in the water of the pool. “Aphrodite has given you Narcissus for all these years. I only ask that you consider returning the favor.”

Echo looked back to the pool for a long moment, finally nodding with her eyes on her reflection. She rose and floated back through to the main chamber, and Artemis followed. When they reached her shelves, Echo stopped in front of the mirror. Artemis could barely see her in the brightness of the main cave, only a shimmer, the occasional ripple that revealed the features of her face as it bent in sadness.

The nymph picked up the gilded hand mirror, and the glass glimmered in a wave. Narcissus was there, walking through Asphodel in the sunshine. He bent and picked a poppy, smiling brilliantly.

Echo laid the mirror to her chest and turned to face Artemis, dropping into a small bow.

Bisoux’s leg thumped when Dita dragged the brush over his rump, wondering what she was going to do next.

She’d painted her nails, organized her underwear drawer, rearranged her living room, and put on makeup, which was something she only did for occasions. She’d been alone all morning, and she was bordering on stir-crazy.

Dita considered napping but ultimately decided against it. Her sleep the night before had been restless, empty and vague, and she was tired, but she’d take tired over fitful sleep that left her hollow when she woke.

Elysium had been her home in her dreams for thousands of years, and Adonis, her confidant, her love. But that was all gone, and she could never have it back. The loss left her feeling abandoned and exposed, and loneliness plagued her. She missed the solace in his touch, his arms around her, his lips against hers.

But she would never have that again.

The bad had been all but forgotten, and in her mourning, she found herself only thinking of the good.

Dita knew her craving for touch would get to the point that it was undeniable, and she contemplated finding a human lover—or better, a string of lovers. The idea was infinitely appealing. She wanted something easy, something that didn’t require thought, just to be held for a moment.

But that had always been her solution. Something had to change, and that something was her. To ever heal, truly heal, she needed solitude.

Her chest ached, and she turned her wandering thoughts to Jon and Josie. Their first meeting hadn’t been terrible, but there was nothing on the horizon until they ran into each other again. She’d gotten Jon to The Duke and fudged the books at Jerry J’s, so they’d call both bounty hunters in, but she wasn’t sure what was next or what Artemis had in store for the humans.

What Dita needed was a plan.

She bit her lip as she put Bisoux’s brush down and ran her hand down his silky back. Josie wasn’t over Jon, not even close, but she was as stubborn and solitary as Artemis. No one got in, not after everything she had been through. Bisoux hopped off her lap and trotted to his red velvet floor pillow to pick up a squeaky toy in the shape of a Fury. He gnawed on its wings as Dita looked around the room for something to do, but her meandering thoughts drifted back to Adonis.

His smile was clear in the picture of her mind, and she could hear his laugh, thinking of the long hours they’d lazed in the meadow under the olive tree, and her heart ached and thumped and pumped and bled.

But she drew in a breath and stopped herself.

She needed a distraction and decided it had been long enough that she could bother Perry again. The day before had been filled with the two goddesses consuming all the movies and pizza they could handle on top of a stupid amount of cupcakes and all the avoidance she could muster. They had gotten rolling the minute the competition started, and she’d kept Dita distracted to the point that she was so exhausted, she fell into bed and slept like she was dead.

Guilt chewed at her heart when she considered how much of Perry’s time she’d been occupying for the last two weeks—meaning all her time—but she needed that distraction so badly. She wasn’t sure if she could function without it, not without losing her mind. And she didn’t feel right leaning on anyone else in the way she leaned on Perry. Dita had other friends, of course, but there was no one else she’d burden with her bullshit.

The only other person who she could seriously consider was Heff. He would be there for her, but she couldn’t talk to him about Ares or Adonis. It hurt too badly to see the pain behind his bright eyes, and she didn’t want to be the cause of it. She had Apollo too, but they weren’t at the level where she could really bare her heart and soul.

She wouldn’t trust anyone like that besides her best friend.

And so, she picked up her dog and headed to the elevator, hoping that Perry was fresh enough to handle her for just a little longer. Surely, she’d be right again soon.

When she reached the underworld, she set Bisoux down, and he ran straight for Cerberus. Watching them play was highly entertaining since the three-headed hellhound was about eight hundred times the size of the mini Pom.

“In here.” Perry waved a hand over the back of the couch.

“I come bearing gifts.” With the snap of Dita’s fingers, several bars of Toblerone and a stack of movies appeared on the coffee table, but she paused when she rounded the couch and found Perry lying in the arms of Hades.

The couple lay lazily in each other’s arms—Perry small and slender, Hades long and lean. He looked as comfortable in tailored slacks and a button-down as most people would in pajamas with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. Perry’s fingers had slipped into the space between buttons to rest on his chest.

“Oh,” Dita said, flushing, embarrassed for assuming her friend would be alone. “I’m sorry. Perry, want to just come up later? I mean, if you have time?”

Hades smiled and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Don’t leave on account of me. I have some paperwork that needs my attention anyway.”

Perry pouted a little as he slipped out from under her and left the room.

Guilt, guilt, and more guilt. But at least there was chocolate, too.

Perry sighed and reached for a bar of chocolate. “Come to mama.” She licked her lips as she opened the triangular box.

Dita sat at the other end of the couch and propped her feet on the table, trying not to feel like a worm for being relieved that Hades had gone.

“Wassup?” Perry asked with her mouth full of chocolate and nougat.

“Well, I just dicked with about a million things at my place, so I came down to see if you were ready to go for movie madness, part deux.”

“Mmm.” It was a noncommittal sound. “We barely even talked about the competition yesterday.”

Dita wiggled her toes on the coffee table, her arches warming up from the fire in the black marble fireplace. “We were too distracted by teenage John Cusack. Who can resist Lloyd Dobler in a trench coat with a boom box?”

Perry laughed. “The same percentage of people who can resist Paul Varjak from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Zero.”

“Oh, or Gene Kelly from Singing in the Rain. I miss old Hollywood. Movies had a feeling to them that is just lost now. Where are the Kubricks and Hitchcocks?” Dita asked.

“Now, Hitchcock knew suspense. He was next-level, climb-into-your-head-and-make-a-nest-out-of-human-hair dark and creepy. Not like the cheap tricks they use now. Like The Human Centipede. I mean, I’ll give points for creativity, but come on.”

“So fucking gross. It’s not even scary, just disgusting,” Dita said with her nose wrinkled.

“Speaking of hot asses…” Perry waggled her eyebrows.

“Ew. You’re never allowed to make hot ass references in conjunction with The Human Centipede.” Dita gave her the stankiest face she could manage.

Perry giggled. “Jon’s way prettier than German dungeon horror.”

“That is true,” Dita said with a nod.

“And a smartass. Always a plus.”

“It really is so hot. I know I can get him and Josie together—if she doesn’t kill him first.”

“I can see how murder would put a damper on things.”

Dita snorted and held out her hand for a piece of chocolate. “I’m sure Artemis would do a freaking jig.”

“What kind of plays do you think she’ll make?” Perry laid a piece in her waiting palm.

Dita popped it in her mouth and thought about Artemis as she sucked on a triangle of milky chocolate. “It’s hard to say. She’s sort of immune to love. I mean, not totally immune, but she definitely doesn’t get it. She always picks some kind of huntress. Remember when she picked that gold digger in Victorian London?”

“Oh gods, that was so great. I about died when you matched her with a penniless actor. Such scandal.”

“That prat needed to be brought down a peg. And anyway, she ended up happy. That’s what counts. Well, that and the fact that I won.”

Perry shook her head. “Of all the gods, I can’t see how Artemis could ever win against you. She constantly underestimates the power of love.”

Dita rolled her eyes. “Great. Thanks. Now I have Huey Lewis stuck in my head.”

“He is a legend. Anyway, she really has to suck at this as a result of her very nature. She doesn’t get it.”

Dita crossed her arms and stared at the fire in the massive fireplace. It burned always—day, night, summer, winter. “How could she get it? She can’t stand humans, which automatically puts her at a disadvantage, and she doesn’t understand love, which dooms her when she competes with me.”

“It’s kind of sad. Can you imagine living your whole life without love?”

Dita’s lips slipped into a frown. “Maybe she’s the smart one after all.”

Perry nudged Dita with her foot. “Don’t talk crazy.”

Dita’s eyes never left the flames licking at the logs. “She does have love in her life, but it’s all platonic. And she’s had love, love, but that ended in tragedy. It’s been three thousand years, and she still hasn’t recovered.”

“Orion.” Perry’s voice was sad and soft.

“Instead of building a bridge across her hurt to get over it, she’s standing on one side, screaming about the unfairness of it all. She blames me, you know.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“We’ve argued about it plenty of times.” Dita glanced at Perry with a smirk. “You have the worst memory.”

Perry shrugged. “I need CliffsNotes.”

“Her logic is that she loved Orion, and I’m the goddess of love; therefore, I’m to blame for her feelings for him.”

“So, it’s your fault that she fell in love?”

“Apparently. I swear, I didn’t have a direct hand in it. My charms do not work on Artemis. She and Orion did that all on their own.”

“She’s so out of touch,” Perry said as she broke off another piece of chocolate.

“She’s cloistered with her Oceanids and spends all her time policing mythical creatures. You’d be out of touch, too.”

“Josie’s a lot like her.”

Dita sighed. “I know. Poor Jo. Anne’s been gone six months, but Josie’s been alone and lonely for far longer than that. Losing Anne just pushed her into the spiral that she’s in now, but she was already broken. She thought Jon was it, the end of the road, and when she lost him…well, there just wasn’t any getting over it. She’s been on a handful of dates, and they were all disasters. She’s a lot of woman; most guys can’t handle her, but Jon gets her on the molecular level.”

“Really? Because he can be a real idiot when it comes to her.”

“I didn’t say he was perfect. But he gets her. The difference between Josie and Artemis is that there’s hope deep down inside of Josie. Artemis has no hope, only the bitter aftertaste of her heartache.”

“Do you think she’ll ever get over it? Artemis, I mean?” Perry asked.

“She’s the only one who can make that decision. If she accepts her feelings and lets Orion go, it would heal her, but she’d rather seethe and blame me than deal with her own issues.”

“Mmm,” Perry said vaguely as she looked down at her fingers fiddling with the Toblerone box.

Dita narrowed her eyes at Perry. “You keep doing that.”

“What?” Her brows rose innocently.

“Giving me responses that don’t mean anything.”

Perry looked back down and dismissed her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Want to talk about you?”

“Nope,” Dita said, popping the P as she turned back to the fire.

“You’re going to have to at some point.”

“When that time comes, I will.”

Perry gave her a look.

“I wake up every day and don’t know how I’m going to feel. So, I’m taking it minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. Please, don’t pressure me,” Dita begged.

“All right. I’m here though when you need me.”

“I know. And in the meantime, can you please help me avoid my feelings by watching a skinny, young Patrick Dempsey deliver pizzas with extra anchovies?”

Perry nibbled her lip. “Rain check?”

Dita’s cheeks heated up. “Oh, um, of course. I’m sorry. No pressure, right? Just save me from all my sadness real quick in your spare time.”

Perry laughed. “Let’s watch one tonight. It’s just…I’ve barely seen Hades since we came back from Greece.”

Dita held out a hand to stop her and gave her the most comforting smile she could muster. “Don’t, please. It’s fine. Let’s just plan on some point tomorrow. I really am sorry for monopolizing your time. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you and your love.”

“Or chocolate. Or bad jokes.”

Dita hoisted herself off the couch. “Okay. I’m gonna go and get out of your hair so it can get pulled by your husband.”

“You are such a creep.”

“Said the Queen of the Underworld.”

“Bye, Dita.”

“Bye.” Dita patted Perry’s foot and called for her dog, who followed her into the elevator.

She took a heavy breath on her way up to her apartment as panic crept in at the prospect of being alone for a minimum of twenty-four hours.

She stepped into her foyer, feeling her pulse in her neck as her eyes scanned her apartment. Going upstairs wasn’t an option, not with the gossiping gods milling about and Ares potentially around every corner. It would be fine. She could stay in her apartment and read or watch a movie by herself. She didn’t need someone to distract her. She’d be fine. She was capable of being alone with her thoughts.

Get it together, Dita.

She clearly wasn’t fine, but another day wouldn’t kill her. Plus, she could always go to Heff’s. Maybe he would play backgammon with her. Dita perked up a bit. The thought of his smile made her feel better, and she turned for the elevator once again.

Dita was halfway across the room when the elevator opened. It was empty, and her brow quirked as she came to a stop in the entryway. She felt a warm breeze and noticed a bend in the light, and when she dimmed the lights, she found Echo before her.

“Echo,” Dita said with a smile. She hadn’t seen the nymph in a very long while. “I am so glad to have you. Whatever can I do for you?”

Echo shimmered as she moved, her head down. When she lifted her eyes, Dita saw the sadness even though a smile graced her lips.

“For you.”

Echo’s hands moved into her robes, and she pulled out the gilded mirror Dita had given her ages before. Heff had forged and enchanted it for her, and her breath caught when she saw it.

“I…I haven’t seen this in so long. I’d forgotten all about it. But why…”

The nymph looked at the mirror, which rippled and shone. When it came to rest, she saw Adonis through the looking glass.

“Gods,” Dita breathed, her fingers to her lips, her eyes locked on the mirror.

Echo extended it, and Dita took a step, outstretching a trembling hand to take it.

Adonis ran through the brush of Elysium with his bow drawn, and when he loosed, the arrow flew straight into the heart of a doe as she cut in front of him. He let out a whoop, and his smile was brighter than the sun as he chased the beautiful creature.

Dita’s breath hitched, and she clutched the mirror to her chest. “How can I ever thank you?”

Echo held out a hand to stay her, the pain on her face lessened by a degree at the sight of Dita’s relief.

“Thank you.” Dita bit her lip to stop herself from crying.

The nymph glimmered as she bowed, her eyes lingering for a moment longer on the mirror before she smiled graciously and turned to leave.

Dita walked to her couch and sank down, her hands tingling and her eyes never leaving the mirror. There he was, right there in her hand, as real as he had ever been. He wouldn’t remember her, but she knew everything about him, knew every plane and angle of his face, every curve of every muscle, knew the depth of his eyes and the feel of his hands on her.

He was there, right there.

She could feel his presence, could feel his soul as he opened the deer and worked on cleaning it, but the gore of it all didn’t even faze her. She couldn’t look away.

DAY 3

JON’S DAMP HAIR FELL into his face as he reached for his laptop to pack it into his leather messenger bag just as Tori walked into the kitchen behind him. Her head was tilted as she fastened her earring with her hair done up in a fancy bun and her heels clicking on the hardwood. She gave him a smile and bumped him with her hip as she walked by, jerking her chin at his lock pick set on the table.

“You’re packing the big set?” she asked while she poured herself a cup of coffee.

He tucked the picks into a pocket of his bag and flipped the flap closed. “I’m doing recon today. A jewelry dealer in the Garment District needs some help locating some lost goods from his ex-partner. I’ve got to look around the guy’s apartment to see if they’re there.”

“You’re sure he stole them? What if the guy who hired you wants you to steal them?”

“I’m not touchin’ anything. I’ll tell him if I find them, and he can hash it out with the cops.”

“Or with a Glock,” she said with a frown. “Sounds dangerous.”

“You know me. I’ll be careful; don’t worry.”

“You’d better be. How come you can’t have a job pushing paper somewhere?”

He locked the buckles and straightened up. “Because I’m addicted to adrenaline, and I’m pretty sure I’d go through some wicked withdrawals if I had to sit in a cubicle all day. Breaking and entering is way more fun.”

Lola ran in and stopped in front of him, her blue eyes beaming. “Daddy, you like my kitty-cat dress?” She smoothed her hand down the front of the dress that was covered in illustrations of kittens with big eyes and long eyelashes.

He knelt down and smiled. “I love it, baby. This one’s my favorite.” He pointed to one near the hem. “You ready to go to Gram and Pop Pop’s?”

She nodded with her pink little lips bending into a smile.

“Okay. Go get your backpack.”

“I’ll go get it!” She ran out of the room.

Jon shook his head as he stood. “Does she walk anywhere?”

“Nope.” Tori took a sip of her coffee. “You sure you’re good to take Lola to my mom’s?”

“Yeah. Your dad doesn’t scare me.”

Tori laughed. “He’ll never get over the fact that you knocked me up and didn’t make an honest woman out of me.”

Jon snorted. “Honest. Ha. Anyway, he knows we would have killed each other.”

“Yeah, well, our feelings on the matter mean very little to him,” she said with a shrug. “We’ve been living together all this time. I’m sure he thinks we’re still banging.”

“In your dreams, Victoria,” he gibed, knowing she hated being called by her full name. “It won’t be for much longer if I keep picking up jobs and you keep busting your ass at lawyer waitressing.”

“We can only hope, Jonny.”

Jon looked down, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, his eyes tracing the seams of the wooden planks of the floor. “It feels like we’ve been living together forever. Wonder what it’ll be like to live alone.” And without Lola. That thought in particular cut to the quick.

She smiled wistfully. “It’ll be glorious. I can walk around in my underwear and pee with the door open.”

“You do that anyway.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be able to do it with no fear of retaliation.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Hey, I meant to ask…do I always pick scissors when we play Rock-Paper-Scissors?”

“Every time. Why?”

“Josie said something about it the other day.”

Tori raised a blond eyebrow. “Ah. Still hung up, huh? You’ve surpassed your twenty-four-hour mourning period.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Tori rolled her eyes. “Maybe your hands-off approach isn’t the way to handle it. I’d probably march over and plant a fat, sloppy kiss on her if I were you.”

“You’d probably perform heart surgery with a sledgehammer, too.”

“Probably,” she said with a shrug.

He slung his bag over his shoulder. “You do realize that your way isn’t always the best way.”

“But it usually is.” She punched him in the arm and waved as she rounded the corner. “Have a good day,” she called from the entry.

“You too.”

Jon let out a sigh.

He loved Tori—she knew him better than anybody did—but they weren’t meant to be together. They had both known that since before they broke up and before they found out Tori was pregnant.

For a couple of years before they’d broken up, they’d dated and lived together, and when they’d found out about Lola, it’d just made sense to keep living together. It was the easiest way for them to care for their daughter and the easiest way for Jon to take care of both Tori and Lola. It fulfilled him to do it, and he and Tori worked seamlessly together—as long as they weren’t trying to be together.

They’d driven each other crazy when they dated, fighting about everything, but once the pressure of romance had been removed from the equation, they’d been able to find a level of companionship and respect for each other that made them an excellent team.

“I’m ready, Daddy!”

Ruby, the stuffed dog, was cradled in Lola’s arms, and she had on her pink backpack with a giant white kitten on the back.

“Well then, let’s get going.” He held out his hand, and she grabbed two of his fingers.

They walked in the chilly morning to Tori’s parents’ house where he dropped off his daughter under the watchful eye of Tori’s father, who scowled at him from behind her cheerful mother.

As he walked out of the building and toward the subway, he marveled again at the vastness of New York. Growing up in Louisiana, he had known every kid within five miles, easy. In New York, you could live next door to a kid your age and not only never meet them, but not even go to the same school as they did. Tori and Josie had grown up just a few blocks away from each other but had never met, and that fact blew his mind on a regular basis.

Jon smelled roses, and he looked up, confused for a split second before realizing he was a few buildings down from the Midtown South Precinct. He decided to stop and check the board, and as he pulled open the door, he remembered seeing Josie for the first time since he’d moved back.

He was struck again by the deep desire to help her with Anne’s murder and wondered if maybe Tori was right. Maybe it was time he pressed Josie for information about Anne.

When he rounded the corner, he found her standing at the board like déjà vu, like he imagined so often, just exactly as she had been a month before. When he remembered to breathe again, he straightened himself out and put on the most charming smile in his repertoire, hoping it would be enough to blast a crack in her shell.

The station bustled around Josie, but her focus was on the Wanted flyers plastered on the police bulletin board. She flipped a page back and snapped a picture with her phone.

“Dibs on the meth head.”

Josie jumped at the sound of Jon’s voice, and once the rush of old desire passed—because it always showed up, every time, without an invitation—she found herself instantly agitated.

“You’ve got to quit sneaking up on people, Jon. One of these days, you’re going to get accidentally shot.” She didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she kept them on the board and pretended to go about her business even though her brain had come to a skipping, grinding stall.

“Well, I only sneak up on you, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe.” He leaned against the wall at her side to face her, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

“Lucky me. And no, I’ve got the meth head. You can have the pedophile. I always have trouble not shooting them.”

He watched her. “How are you doin’, Josie?”

“Fine,” she clipped as she flipped another flyer out of the way. “Do you want the gas-station robber?”

Jon stuffed his hands in his pockets with his eyes on her like a couple of ten-pound weights. “Nah, you can have him. How about the missing girl?”

She stiffened. “That’s all you. I’m taking a break on missing persons.”

He searched her face. “I really want to know if you’re all right.”

Josie finally looked at him and found she’d been justified in trying to avoid it. His eyes were so blue, they were almost black, heavy and intent on her. His dark brows were just low enough to show his concern, concern that was honest and real.

That look hit her in the heart, reminding her of the time when she’d believed he would have done anything for her, the time before he’d abandoned her. And that feeling of longing flared into anger.

“I said I was fine, and I meant it.” The words were short and final.

He watched her, and when he spoke, his voice was a little softer, as if she were a wild animal. “Okay, Jo. I just wanted to talk—”

“Christ, Jon. Take a hint. I don’t want to talk about anything you want to talk about.” She gripped her phone in her fist to stop her hand from shaking.

Jon’s voice dropped, and a hint of irritation flickered in his tone. “Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about us—trust me, I got that message loud and clear—but that discussion will happen at some point whether you want it to or not. We have unfinished business, and you can’t ignore it forever, not if I have anything to do with it.”

She scoffed, but he didn’t give her time to respond otherwise.

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I want to know what you think happened to Anne.”

The sound of Anne’s name from his lips was more than she could handle.

Breathing his air was stifling enough, but to discuss Anne with him was out of the question, beyond what she could bear. She wasn’t strong enough to hold herself together for that conversation.

But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She knew him well enough to know that for certain. The only way out was to run.

She turned without responding, but before she could take a step, he hooked her arm in his big hand, the sensation warm and comforting and absolutely heartbreaking. Because he couldn’t comfort her. She would break completely.

She set her jaw and glared at him, hating him for everything he made her feel, hating him for everything she couldn’t have.

“Josie, you weren’t the only one who cared about Anne. I worked with her just as much as I ever worked with you. She was my friend, too, and I want to know what you think happened to her. I’ve been looking, searched every lead I could find, which is nothing and you know it. And you and I both know you have information, information that, if you decided to share, I could maybe use to help you.”

Her cheeks burned as she jerked away from his hand, her voice trembling, her control gone. “Yeah, well, you fucking left us here. Some friend. I could have used your help, you know that? Maybe if you had been here, maybe if you had been on it with me, we could have nailed Rhodes before he got to her. But no, you were off playing house with your baby and your girlfriend. You never even looked back at what you’d left behind.”

The wounded look on his face was almost worth her pain, but she couldn’t even find it in herself to be satisfied as she turned to walk away.

The words Jon wanted to say climbed up his throat and stuck there.

Don’t let her leave! his mind shouted.

He reached for her again. She blocked his hand and knocked it away, turning to him again, accusing him with nothing but the look on her face.

His hand stung from the contact, and he looked down at her tearful eyes with an aching chest and said with his voice like sandpaper, “Josie, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t, Jon. Just don’t.”

He stepped closer, begging, “Please, Josie. Let me help. Let me in.”

“Never again. Leave me alone,” was her answer.

And she flew out of the station, her red hair swinging behind her like a pendulum, marking every step until she was out of sight.

Jon’s mind twisted around the exchange, shaken as he made his way toward the exit. Once again, he found himself smack in the middle of the worst possible outcome. He couldn’t reach her, couldn’t appease her, couldn’t soothe her. When he’d left, he’d thrown a grenade into the foxhole, and she was in so many pieces, he couldn’t put her back together. She wouldn’t let him get close enough to try.

He’d foolishly thought he’d gained ground, but he’d been wrong, so wrong. And that conversation had set him back by miles.

Jon’s eyes were on the ground, turned so far inward that he slammed shoulders with a cop walking by. When he snapped to and noticed who it was, he realized the collision had been no accident.

Josie’s brother, Paul, glared at him, jaw muscles twitching. “What’d you say to her?”

Jon smiled cheerfully, playing the jester as always. “Heya, Paul. I’m good. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

Paul’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t be a dick, Jon.”

Jon took a wild shot, hoping he’d catch Paul off guard. “Who’s Rhodes?”

Paul folded his arms across his chest, his eyes somehow narrowing even more, his irises barely visible. “Corey Rhodes? She told you about him?” He fired the questions like nails.

Bingo.

“A little. What have you got?”

“Like I’d tell you, asshole.”

“Look, I don’t want to upset her, but she won’t even talk to me.”

Paul pointed at him. “You don’t have any right to talk to her.”

Jon shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me that. Thing is, that won’t stop me from trying.”

Paul paused for a beat, watching him with suspicious dark eyes. “What’s your angle, Landreaux?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never fought for what you wanted, Campbell. I’m trying to give her space, but I’m not gonna give up.”

It was the honest truth, the only way Jon figured he could ever win back everyone’s respect.

But Paul only laughed. “It’s too late for you, man. You might as well pack it up and go home. Josie doesn’t change her mind once she’s set it to something.”

Jon slapped him on the arm with a wink. He knew it was true. He also knew there was an exception to every rule, and he planned to be the exception to this one.

“Thanks for the tip, Pauly.”

Paul only scowled as Jon turned and left the station.

And, just like that, Jon was on top of the world, whistling as he headed down the sidewalk.

Corey Rhodes.

Jon had a name.

Josie made it all the way to her car before the hot tears in her eyes spilled over. She gripped the top of the steering wheel and rested her forehead on the back of her hands, unable to stop the sobs and fighting them all the same.

She’d known it was only a matter of time before Jon pressed her to talk about what had happened, talk about their past, talk about all the things she’d worked so hard to put behind her. But the second he’d shown up again, all her work had been undone.

She’d also known he’d eventually push her, and she’d known she wouldn’t be able to handle it when he did.

But Anne—that was unexpected. All he’d had to do was say her name, and the house of cards had fallen. That single question had thrown her off her axis, sending her flying into the sun.

Why did he have to come back?

It had been three years since he left her, three years of hatred and hurt and bitterness that had changed her so deeply, there was no going back.

On the outside, she was fiery and irreverent, but in her heart, she was broken, hurt far worse than she could even admit to herself. She hadn’t been able to understand how he could do it, why he had left her so cruelly.

But underneath it all was the truth, under so many layers of hurt, it could only reach her in whispers.

Josie had believed she found love, a forever love to carry her through the end of her days, only to discover her love wasn’t returned.

All her old memories, memories she’d thought were dead and buried, had climbed out of their graves and were out for blood. She could fight them with every weapon she possessed, but they wouldn’t stop.

They’d never stop.

Seeing him again had shocked her, but learning the truth about why he’d left cut her off at the knees. She felt betrayed and angry, but worst of all, she felt like a fool. Her anger had cooled over the years, turned hard and black as stone, but his return had split her open again, and she found that the pain had never left her after all. It had been there all along, just under the surface, boiling and rolling and waiting for the time it could break out and take her over.

Josie took a deep breath and sat up, wiping her tears away with the flats of her index fingers.

Jon didn’t really want her. If he did, he would have handled things differently so long before. Maybe he wouldn’t have left her so easily, wouldn’t have chosen someone else. It didn’t matter that he and Tori weren’t together. The bottom line was that he’d left. He’d made a choice, and that decision had left her no choice at all. She’d had no say; she had been left to deal with the fallout on her own, all alone.

If he had only told her from the beginning why he left. If only she’d had a choice. She imagined how different things could have been, but it only broke her heart again.

Josie sniffled and turned on her car, pulling away to take off across the river where she would tail Rhodes, hoping maybe, just maybe, the routine would bring her peace.

The stars were bright, the infinite pinpoints against the black of night a sight Apollo had set his eyes on hundreds of thousands of times, and they would never lose their mystery and wonder.

He sat on Artemis’s perch, waiting for her, missing her company. He and his twin had always been close, though less since they’d moved Olympus off Earth. She’d secluded herself in the expanse of her domain, and he didn’t know if he could blame her. She was a huntress; her home was the forest and the moonlight, her companion. Never would he expect her to wear modern dress and live in an apartment building. It went against all that she was.

Apollo had been particularly absent since Dita returned Daphne to him. For a thousand years, he had waited for her, and now that he had her, he’d not let her go, not for a second.

But, with Artemis and Dita competing, he found he didn’t know his place. He’d always sided with his sister against their common enemy. The feud was so old, it had never been a question. But now, after everything Dita had done for him, he found himself caught somewhere between the two goddesses—his sister and the goddess who had given him back his love.

He produced a lyre from the air and lay back, eyes still on the stars, considering how much his life had shifted. Daphne was his again, released from the curse that had kept them apart. His rivalry with Dita was dead and gone, and the price she’d paid to help him was high, as she’d lost Adonis and Ares both.

His guilt over being the cause of her pain, the reason that she’d ultimately lost both her lovers, was almost more than he could bear. And so, he would do his best to bridge the gap between the goddesses. It was the least he could do.

Apollo owed Aphrodite so much, and he was determined to pay that debt in full, with interest.

He pictured Dita’s face as Ares had pinned her to the wall with his hands around her neck, her eyes closed and face dark, the shade of her skin gray and blue and wrong as she lost consciousness. Ares, bulging and red, the look on his face speaking clearly—he would tear her apart before he would lose her.

And the whole circumstance had been Apollo’s own doing. If only he hadn’t entered into an oath with Ares so many years before. If only Adonis had lived. If only—

He jumped when Artemis laid a hand on his forearm.

“Brother.” Tears filled her dark eyes. “Are you all right? That song…”

Apollo took a breath, letting it go with the past as he sat, laying his lyre beside him before turning to her with a smile, his heart still heavy in his chest. “I’m fine. Just thinking, that’s all.”

Artemis sat next to him and leaned back to look at the moon. “Have you been waiting for me long?”

“No, just a little while.”

“I have not seen you as of late. Is all well?”

“Quite,” Apollo answered. “I just wanted to check on you. How goes the competition?”

“Well enough. Josie wants nothing to do with Jon, and each time they see one another, her agitation grows and festers. He set himself back today by pressing her. I do not believe that Aphrodite will have enough time to convince Josie to overcome her feelings.”

Her certainty irritated him, and a flicker of defensiveness for Dita flared. “You’d be surprised.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“What’s your plan for Josie?” he asked, not wanting to argue but sensing the inevitability.

Some plan. Bridge the gap, ha.

“My plan is to watch. To do my best to keep her away from Jon. I can get her out of New York if he should happen to gain any ground with her. But I care little for the humans or their relationship. My only motivation is to beat Aphrodite.”

“You never have liked her.”

“No, and until recently, I was not the only one.” Artemis didn’t look at him but shot the words at him still. “I cannot understand how you can forgive her. She kept Daphne from you for eons.”

“Because I killed Adonis.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did by proxy,” he volleyed.

“He was a thorn in my side.”

“Ares would say the same. Still, he didn’t deserve to die. Aphrodite gave Daphne to me and paid a great cost to do it. She did right by me, knowing she would lose so much.” He wanted her to look him in the eye, to see the truth. To convince her, though he knew better.

Artemis said nothing, only scowled up at the stars.

“What else do you blame her for?” Apollo asked, knowing the answer.

Her lips pressed together, and he wished she could be honest with herself. With him.

“Orion?”

“Please.” She finally glanced over at him, though her words were full of contempt. “It has been thousands of years.”

“That wasn’t really an answer.”

“Love is a ridiculous sentiment, fueled by hormones. It compromises you, creates a weakness that wasn’t there before. No,” she scoffed, “I have no need for love.”

“Some would say that love is instinctive, which is something you value quite highly.”

Her lips bent in a frown. “I do not wish to discuss this, Apollo.”

“I know you don’t, Artemis. But I think you should.”

She sat and hooked her arms around her knees, turning her eyes back to the stars. For a long time, she said nothing, but when she did, she was far away, long ago, the admission quiet and still and honest. “He was taken from me with no warning, taken from me too soon. And, when I lost him, I lost a part of myself—the part that loved him. Had I never loved him, I would not still feel the sting.” Her eyes were empty when they met his again. “So, forgive me for not feeling as you do about Aphrodite. Her games do not interest me, but I will beat her and be justified.”

He shook his head, trying to understand. “What good does it do to blame Aphrodite?”

“It gives me comfort.” She stood and looked down at him with an outward calm that he knew to be a facade. “I can see where your loyalties lie, and they are not with me.”

“Artemis, you are my sister. Nothing will come between us.”

“That is not a promise you can make.”

She turned and climbed down the rock, and he watched as she nocked an arrow and disappeared into the woods.

Apollo stood and tilted his face to the moon. He knew each ring and shadow that marked its surface by heart, just as he knew his sister, the bullheaded creature who lived in a self-imposed prison under the illusion of happiness in solitude. But he remembered another Artemis, the goddess before Orion who had been joyful and compassionate, full of youth and life, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed until far too late that she was gone.

Artemis pushed through the brush, not caring how much noise she made.

She had been betrayed by her brother.

As glad as she was that Apollo had Daphne again, she mourned the loss of her partner against Aphrodite. Artemis couldn’t fathom how thousands of years of anger could be wiped away with a single act, no matter how noble. It should have been set to rights long before, though that infraction was forgotten by all but Artemis, it seemed.

And Aphrodite. They were as separate as the sea and the sky, the two goddesses. Neither valued what the other held dear. Aphrodite put her stock in love, nebulous and vague and unpredictable. Artemis believed in logic, what she could see, smell, touch. But logic rarely applied to love.

At least she still had the competition. Aphrodite had been absent, and Artemis could only hope that the goddess of love was spending her time obsessing over the mirror and not on the game. She had somehow managed to nudge Jon into the station, but that had ultimately worked to Artemis’s advantage, sparking a fight, pushing Josie over the edge. Jon had no chance, and neither did Aphrodite.

But, if the tide did change, Artemis would be ready, armed, and waiting. There was comfort in that, if nowhere else.

Dita shifted on the couch, re-situating her stiff, creaking body. For the last twenty-four hours, she had barely moved, the mirror in her lap and her heart split and cracked and aching. She had run the gamut of emotions from joy to tears to tear-inducing joy as she watched Adonis live his ghost life, moving from one task to the next, all the things he loved.

All the things he loved, except for her.

She touched the glass of the mirror.

Adonis lay in the sun, his skin wet from the dip he’d taken in the river. His eyes were closed, a content smile playing on his lips, his hands tucked behind his head. The broad muscles of his arms and chest were perfect, and she could see every ripple and line.

It was the perfect distraction really. It scratched two itches—her loneliness and her denial.

Her neck ached, and her legs burned when she flattened them out. She wondered absently when she had eaten last. She hadn’t slept either, only nodded off a few times to be awoken by her nightmares.

But she couldn’t bear to put the mirror down, couldn’t even tear her eyes away, not for a moment, not unless the need was too dire to ignore.

Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, lurching when she considered going upstairs to get something to eat. A feeling of disconnected unease hung over her, the kind that accompanied a binge, especially a forbidden binge. It was the feeling brought by the knowledge that what she was doing was wrong but doing it anyway and in private, in secret. Because, if anyone knew, she would be judged, and that judgment would sting even worse because it would be justified.

But she couldn’t stop, mostly because she didn’t want to miss a single moment. She didn’t want to face anyone out of fear that they would somehow know what she’d done, what she was doing.

Of course, there was also the threat of Ares that had kept her confined to her apartment. She hadn’t seen him since the first day; the stress of even being near him for a moment had been so much, she’d been nearly paralyzed by fear, and that was with Perry and Heff at her side. If she went up now, she’d be alone. And, if he got her alone, he would take advantage of the fact. She couldn’t even consider what he’d do.

She wasn’t ready to find out.

But she had to eat, and by the noises her stomach made, it would need to be soon.

Just go upstairs. It’ll just be a few minutes. Eat, and then you can come right back. Maybe the break will do you good.

Dita took a long last look at Adonis before she laid the mirror on her coffee table, tossed her blanket off, stood, and made for the elevator. She stepped inside, and her finger hovered over the lobby button as she contemplated heading to the underworld to ask Perry to go with her.

It’ll be fine. I’m sure he won’t be there. And, if he is, I’ll just leave and come back later. So stop being a pussy, and hit the fucking button.

She rolled her eyes and hit the L.

Dita didn’t remember a time when she’d been more needy, though that knowledge didn’t really do much to help her combat it. She was doing her best to handle her shit.

Her best was not even close to good enough.

The elevator opened up to the lobby, and she made it to the refrigerator just as her stomach folded in on itself. She walked to the island with a plate of ambrosia, turning it into a huge hamburger and spicy fries. She was salivating. Until the elevator dinged.

Her eyes flew to the door as it opened to Ares and Hera chatting, too lost in their conversation to see her.

Dita froze for a nanosecond before grabbing her plate and hauling ass around the corner, just outside a small sitting room.

The sound of her heart in her ears was almost deafening, and she took a deep breath, trapped in the hallway, anxious and feeling strung out. She supposed in a way she was.

I have got to get sleep and food before I have a nervous breakdown.

She caught another whiff of her burger, and her eyelids fluttered in ecstasy. Figuring that the sitting room was unoccupied, she could duck in and hide for a few minutes while she snarfed her food, and hopefully in that time, Ares and Hera would have moved on so she could slink back to her room in peace.

As she neared the archway, she heard her name and stopped dead.

“You don’t say.” Pistis, the goddess of trust and good faith, sounded appalled.

“That’s what I heard. Ares was mad because she was boning Apollo,” Zelos, god of jealousy and zeal, said.

Dita could hear he was smiling, that dick.

“Get out,” she heard Pistis gasp. “Poor Daphne.”

“One of the maenads told me Dita’s been going to the big orgies they have in their quarters,” Zelos added.

“Oh, I heard that, too. Those parties get so weird,” Pistis added.

“Well, Dita always has gotten around,” Pheme, the goddess of fame and rumor, said with a snicker. “I mean, with everyone except her husband, that is.”

Zelos giggled. “And I heard she’s been sneaking up to Ares’s room ever since she came back from Greece.”

Pistis said sadly, “How could she ever be with him after what he did to her?”

Pheme laughed. “Have you seen him? He could take his anger out on me any day of the week.”

“Maybe she’s just not woman enough for him.” Zelos’s voice dripped with contempt.

Dita stepped into the threshold. “For fuck’s sake, you assholes don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

Three faces turned to her.

Innocent, naive Pistis turned the color of a spring bloom. “Gods, Aphrodite. No, of course not, not if you say it never happened.”

“It never happened,” she said through her teeth.

Zelos crossed his long legs and pursed his lips, eyeing her.

“You don’t believe me, Zelos? Because I will wrath that look off your face so fast—”

He pointed at Pheme. “Pheme started it.”

Pheme shot him a look before she stood and flipped her glossy blond hair over her shoulder, stepping closer. “You know how it is, Dita. The rumor mill never stops.”

“How could it when you’re fueling it with your fat mouth?”

Pheme gave her a tight smile. “I’m going to assume that your distress made you say that—”

“I know you’re not about to threaten me because I will end you.”

The threat rolled around in Pheme’s empty head for a moment before she smiled like a movie star. “Now, now.” She touched Dita’s arm, her face soft and tone soothing. “Let’s not be hasty.”

Dita looked down at Pheme’s hand and back to her eyes. She was certain her own were glowing, and when a breeze smelling of roses blew through the room, Pheme dropped her hand and took a step back.

“Listen up, all three of you, and especially you two.” Dita made a V with her fingers and pointed at Pheme and Zelos. “You had best shut your mouths, or I will make you so miserable, you’ll wish you weren’t immortal so you could just die already.”

Zelos didn’t look swayed. He looked smug.

“If you think I’m bluffing, you’re dumber than I thought. Don’t think I don’t know about your little penguin phobia.”

Zelos turned to Pheme, whose mouth hung open.

“What? Penguins are unnatural. It’s like a fish-bird.” He shuddered.

“I wonder,” Dita said, “is bestiality your kind of thing. Because I can make it your kind of thing.”

He swallowed hard.

“And, Pheme, just remember that I can make you fall in love with anyone. Like maybe Priapus?”

Pheme’s eyes went wide.

Priapus had the biggest penis, proportionally, of any god or beast. It actually dragged the ground. He couldn’t even wear pants.

Dita watched her reaction and continued. “I’m pretty sure his giant dick would split you like a melon. What would the rumor mill think of that, I wonder?”

Pheme tried to smile, but she looked more like she was sucking on a lemon.

Pistis’s eyes were big and wet. “Aphrodite, I’m so sorry. I can’t help but see truth everywhere. It’s my curse. I am literally the goddess of gullibility.”

“I realize that. I’d advise staying away from these two shit-talkers or else you’ll end up at the wrong end of a curse.”

Dita glared at the silent trio for a moment. She had the good sense to hang on to her plate rather than throw it, which she would have preferred had she not been starving. Instead, she turned on her heel, but when she exited the room, she found Eris leaning against the wall, inspecting her chipped black nail polish.

“Having problems, Dita?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Eris,” Dita said as she blew past.

“Good to see you, too,” the Godess of Discord called after Dita.

But she didn’t stop, barely registering her fear of Ares, who was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. When she stepped into the elevator, she mashed B4, and the elevator closed. When it opened again, she stormed through the entryway of the underworld, calling Perry’s name.

“Hey,” Perry called as she walked out of her bedroom. “Whoa.” She pointed to a barstool at a black granite counter. “Sit.”

Perry walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of ambrosia, poured some into a wine glass, and turned it into deep burgundy wine. She slid it across the counter to Dita. “What happened?”

Dita took a huge bite and said with a full mouth, “I need to eat. You’re gonna have to deal with this.” She motioned to the bottom half of her face.

“Payback for trailing crumbs everywhere I go. It’s fine. Tell me.”

Dita took a drink and set her glass down on the granite with a clink. “Pheme and Zelos were talking shit about me.”

Perry leaned on the counter and shrugged. “They talk shit about everyone.”

“Pheme actually threatened me.” Dita took another bite of her burger.

“No one ever accused her of being smart. What did they say?”

Dita swallowed and raised a brow. “That I was fucking Apollo and going to maenad orgies.”

Perry rolled her eyes and laughed. “That was the best they could do?”

“Zelos said I wasn’t woman enough for Ares.”

Perry’s mouth hung open at that. “He did not.”

“He did so.” Dita took a gigantic bite, so big that she struggled to chew it.

“Well, he and Pheme have to be the biggest gossips in Olympus.”

“Today sucks,” Dita said around a wad of food.

“What else?”

Dita sighed and dropped her half-eaten burger on her plate. She dusted her hands off and slumped, reaching for her wine again. “I don’t know. I just…I mean I do know, but…” She shook her head. “I’m not sleeping, and it’s fucking me up. I think that’s the short of it.” That, and she had obsessively been watching Adonis on an enchanted mirror, but there was no way she could tell Perry that.

“Is there anything I can do?” Perry asked with furrowed brows. “Maybe I can help.”

Dita looked into Perry’s dark eyes. “I don’t know if anyone can help me.”

Perry moved around the bar and hugged her friend, laying her cheek on the top of Dita’s head. “Time. You can’t fast-forward through it.”

“I know.” Dita’s throat was tight and burning. “I just want it to be over.”

“It will be—eventually. Want to talk about it?” Perry pulled away and sat next to her.

The words stuck in Dita’s throat, so she shook her head.

“That’s the other part of healing. You know that. I’m here for you as soon as you’re ready.”

Dita nodded and took another long pull of her wine.

“So,” Perry said with levity, “what have you been doing? I saw you got Jon into the station today.”

Dita set her glass down and spun it on the bar. “Fat lot of good that did. I almost missed it, too. He was walking right by. That would have sucked.”

“At least he got Rhodes’s name, right?”

“Yeah, but without Josie, he’s not going to get very far. Josie had nothing on Rhodes until she went to Montana. I can’t imagine Jon would have some magical information source to pull from.” Dita looked down at her food, no longer hungry.

“No, but he has you.”

Dita huffed. “Yeah, because I’m doing a bang-up job so far.”

“It’s day three. Give yourself a break.”

“Ugh. I feel nasty. Seriously nasty,” Dita said as she sank even further into her chair.

“You know what I was wondering? What happened with the note Jon left Josie?”

Dita frowned. “I don’t know. Why? I haven’t really thought about it.”

“I mean, how many things could have happened to it?”

Dita considered it for a second. “It was early in the morning, and he left it on her doorstep. Neither Josie nor Anne saw it or knew about it. Would someone really have walked by and picked it up or thrown it away? There’s no kind of accident that makes sense.”

“Right? That’s what I was thinking. Do you think any of the gods had anything to do with it?”

They sat in silence for a moment, but then they met each other’s eyes and said at the same time, “Hera.”

“That bitch,” Perry said under her breath.

“I mean, who else? Just how much do you want to bet she was hoping to get Tori and Jon back together so they could be the perfect little family? I fucking hate her. No one else would do something that blatantly cruel.”

“Well, okay, maybe there’s some other reason, or it was someone else. Devil’s advocate, and all that.”

“Maybe, but probably not.”

Perry eyed her.

Dita put her hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to go hunt her down or anything. What’s done is done, and she can’t interfere at this point. Artemis certainly wouldn’t work with her. It’s just fucked up.”

“So basically like everything Hera does.”

“Pretty much.” Dita stood. “I should get going.”

“You sure? I can hang for a while. Hades is working.”

The thought was appealing, but the mirror called to her, her obsession. She felt like Gollum, but she just didn’t have it in her to fight the addiction.

She smiled at her friend. “I’m okay. Take your time decompressing from me.”

Perry laughed. “Okay. I’m here.”

“I know,” Dita said as she hugged her friend before leaving the underworld.

Her anticipation grew in the few minutes it took to get to her apartment. When she held the mirror in her hands, she felt herself sink into fixation again, and she absently sat down on the couch, breathless as she watched Adonis, the anxiety from what she’d missed snaking through her like poison.

DAY 4

THE SUNLIGHT SHONE THROUGH the ring of trees where Eleni stood. Her boots were planted firmly in the spring grass as she nocked an arrow, took aim, and fired at one of the targets on a tripod. She hit the bull’s-eye and bowed at Artemis with a challenging smile.

Artemis rolled her eyes as she nocked an arrow of her own, drew, and loosed in almost one motion. Her arrow split Eleni’s down the middle.

“Really, Eleni, will you ever learn that you cannot beat me?”

“Let us up the stakes. A game of Mirror, Mirror,” she said, sounding sure of herself.

“If you insist.”

Eleni ran with her bow drawn, did an aerial, and fired midair. Her arrow hit its mark, dead center.

Artemis followed suit, splitting Eleni’s arrow again. The Nephelai pouted, and her wings snapped impatiently behind her.

“My turn.” Artemis put her back to the target and ran for a tree in front of her. She took three paces up the tree and flipped, loosing an arrow midair again. It hit home.

Eleni sighed with narrow eyes and put her back to the target as Artemis had. She ran for the tree, then up the tree, and fired as she flipped. It hit just left of center.

The nymph’s cheeks sparkled, flaming pink and hot as she cursed.

“New game. To the trees.” Her wings beat hard as she flew to a branch with a scowl.

Amused, Artemis climbed into the trees. They nodded to each other from separate lofts and took off running, flying through the treetops and across branches to jump into neighboring trees with bows drawn. Eleni would loose an arrow to mark a target, and Artemis would fire her own before Eleni’s next arrow flew.

She hit every one.

Eleni screeched in frustration but smiled wickedly when she saw an onocentaur chewing cud under a tree. She shot the ugly thing in the ass, and he bleated and ran. Artemis couldn’t help but laugh as she hit the target, and the half-donkey, half-man ran a little faster on his squatty legs.

Artemis leaped for a branch, using it to catapult her into a mossy clearing.

Eleni landed next to her, panting, with a smile stretched across her face. “Losing is not so bitter when I can end the game by shooting Risto in the ass.”

Artemis laughed as they made their way to sit on the spongy ground. The dappled light danced over them as the trees swayed, and Eleni uncorked her water bladder, taking a long drink before handing it to Artemis.

She leaned back on her elbows. “I must say, the mirror was a clever play. Aphrodite has been mostly absent from the competition.”

“Thankfully so.”

“Although she is still making plays. She is quite good.”

Artemis took a drink with Aphrodite lurking in the shadows of her mind. “This game is not easy, and I am not entirely confident in my abilities. This realm is one I do not understand and have no desire to. But the players are divided, which is all I can hope for at this stage.”

“Perhaps, but it would seem that Josie cares for him even though she resists.”

“Her head will win that war; she cannot trust him with her heart. And if he continues to push her, she will continue to push back. I see a storm coming for the two of them.” Artemis handed the water bladder back.

Eleni took it with a downtrodden frown.

“Whose side are you on, nymph?” Artemis was almost serious.

Eleni rolled her eyes. “Yours, of course, but that does not mean I have to be happy.”

Artemis let the jab go and turned her face up to the rustling treetops. “Well, find consolation in this—I have a plan to occupy Josie that should keep her away from Jon for the duration of the game. She won’t be hurt by him anymore. Would that please you?”

“That would all depend on what you plan to do.” Eleni’s black eyebrow rose.

“There hasn’t been nearly enough of a hunt yet. I plan on introducing evidence, irrefutable evidence, in Rhodes’s case. He will either be apprehended or he will run. If he runs, Josie will chase him. Either way, she will be distracted. My hope is that I can run the clock down.”

Eleni took a drink in an attempt to mask her discomfort. “If Josie chases Rhodes, she could be put in danger.”

Artemis shrugged and said without emotion, “She can take care of herself. I have faith that she will be successful.”

“Are you not concerned that she is too close to the case?”

“She can manage it,” Artemis answered in such a tone that it closed the subject.

The Nephelai eyed her. “You are very brash in this competition.”

Artemis stiffened just a little. “I am no different.”

“You are.” Eleni shook her head with a smile. “I believe your player is too close to you.”

“That’s absurd.” Artemis sat back.

“It is not. You’ve not had a competition with Aphrodite where your player has so much in common with you.” Eleni began to ramble on with her face animated, as if she’d just discovered a clue, “Not the last one…nor the one before. I cannot recall a single one who has had so many likenesses to you.”

“You are ridiculous.” She adjusted her robes.

Eleni’s eyes were big and bright. “You deny it, which confirms that it is truth,” she said with a grin. She sat up to tick off points on her fingers. “Josie lost her partner. She’s lonesome—”

Artemis grew more and more uncomfortable. “I am not lonesome. How could I be lonesome when I’m always surrounded by twits like you, dearest?”

Eleni rolled her eyes and continued,. “She hunts. She is solitary and jaded. She runs on instinct.” She looked pleased with herself as she leaned back again. “The factor that you never take into account is human nature.”

“She will not go back to him.” Artemis stood, her fists balled as she glared down at the glittery nymph, who unapologetically smiled back. “She won’t. Am I alone in this game? Have I no one to trust, no one who believes in me? Who believes in my decisions as I do? You most of all I would have expected could see my perspective and appreciate it, but instead, you push and poke and prod me. You and Apollo want to prove that your way is best, but I want none of it. I will make my choices, and damn the rest of you.”

Eleni’s smile had fallen long before she reached for Artemis’s hand. “Please, my friend. I am sorry, for I did not mean to upset you. I know I am too familiar with you at times, though I also know that you enjoy our small battles. I am always on your side, but I am also your advisor. Would you have so much respect for me if I blindly agreed to all things?”

Artemis’s lips were flat, but she softened at Eleni’s tone and the pleading and truth in her eyes. “No, I would not,” she said. “Of late, I am at odds with everyone. I feel my back press against the wall, but I am there all alone.”

“You are never alone, Artemis. We all stand with you.”

“But the constant combat exhausts me.” She turned and whistled, and her unicorn, Calix, trotted out from the underbrush. “We will meet back at camp.”

Eleni nodded with sad eyes locked on Artemis, who hopped onto Calix’s back. She gave Eleni a last look before flying into the woods, her mind blurring with the trees that slipped past.

Dita’s eyes burned and blurred with exhaustion as she lay, swathed in her bedding, watching Adonis in the mirror.

He sat next to a campfire, leaning against a tree as he ate, the firelight flickering shadows against the hard angles of his nose and jaw. She sighed, but the breath shuddered in her chest.

It had been forty-eight hours since she truly slept, and she was exhausted to the point of a breakdown, fully aware that her binge had spun out of control. At one point, she’d put the mirror down and tried to sleep, but it had been impossible. She didn’t think she’d lasted more than a few minutes before she flung off the covers and retrieved the mirror, bringing it back to bed with her.

There was no limiting herself. It was always five more minutes, one more hour, and her far-fetched hope was that she would somehow get it out of her system. But she felt like a junkie. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to stop.

The elevator pinged from the foyer, and Dita jumped.

“Dita?” Perry called as she walked through the entry. “Ready to cash in that rain check for our date with the ’80s?”

Dita scrambled with the mirror, haphazardly shoving it under her quilt. “Uh, hey, I’m in here,” she called from the bedroom.

Perry walked through the doorway and raised an eyebrow when she saw Dita. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, ass.” She sat up in bed and ran her fingers through her hair to pull it into a bun.

Perry climbed onto the end of the bed and sat lotus. “So, what’s on deck for our viewing pleasure? Thanks for giving me a little time by the way.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Really.”

Even she could hear the tightness in her voice, so when Perry narrowed her eyes, Dita knew the jig was up.

“You’re acting funny.”

Dita made a face, agitated, wishing Perry would just go away. “What? I’m just tired.”

“Liar. Spill.”

Dita huffed. “Gods, you’re so bossy. You said you needed some time alone, so I’ve been here, also alone. What do you want from me?”

Perry frowned. “I want you to tell me what’s the matter with you. And don’t tell me you’re just tired because that gets the bullshit stamp.”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t lie to me, Aphrodite.”

“You sometimes sound like your mother, Persephone.”

Perry’s mouth hung open. “Are you seriously not going to tell me?”

“No.” Dita folded her arms across her chest. “You can’t make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” There was mischief in Perry’s voice.

She pounced.

Perry climbed up to sit on top of her, tickling her as she wriggled and writhed and giggled.

Dita squealed. “Stop! Oh my gods, stop! Get off of me!”

“No! Tell me!” she said, laughing. But that was the moment when Perry’s hand hit the mirror, hidden under the blanket. “What is that?” she asked curiously.

Dita’s hands flew to the spot over the mirror. “Nothing.”

“You are such a dirty, smelly liar. Give it to me.” Perry pulled at the quilt.

“No!” Dita tugged back, the fabric clenched in her fists.

“Give it!” Perry ripped the blanket back, and both goddesses froze.

“Dita, tell me what that is,” Perry said, all levity gone, her dark eyes on the mirror.

“Nothing.” It was almost a whisper.

“Stop fucking saying that.” Perry’s eyes didn’t leave the mirror as she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. When she finally looked up, her eyes were wide. “Where did you get this?”

The room was still and silent, but the tension crackled like lightning between them.

“I had it for eons, since you kept Adonis from me. I gave it to Echo, but she brought it back to me.”

“What does it do?”

Dita chewed her lip. There was no way out and no getting around it. So, she told the truth. “It can see into Elysium.”

“No, Aphrodite.” The words were a warning.

Dita panicked, alarms ringing in her mind, telling her it was over.

“Yes, it’s fine!” she said as she sat up fast and reached for the mirror.

But Perry, still sitting on Dita’s legs, twisted away.

Dita rambled, distraught and desperate. “I’ll only watch him on occasion. I’ll limit myself. I know I can. But this way at least I can still see him, remember him.”

There was no comfort in Perry’s words, only accusation. “You have thousands of years of memories with him. You don’t need this to remember anything but your pain.” She held up the mirror, and Adonis appeared in the glass.

Dita pressed her hands to her heart, tears burning her eyes, her voice wavering as she begged, “Please, don’t take it from me. It’s all I have.”

“It is not all you have,” Perry answered heavily, forcefully. “You have me. You have Heff. There are people here who love you, who care for you, but you’re wallowing in your pain, wishing for something you can never, ever have. Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“What am I supposed to do?” she cried, hysteria and desperation rushing over her, reaching around Perry for the mirror. “If you lost Hades, wouldn’t you do the same?”

Perry shook her head and held the mirror out of reach. “This isn’t the same as me and Hades, and you know it. Dita, you can’t have the mirror.”

“You don’t get to make that decision,” Dita fired back.

“Stop it. You know this is wrong. Look at you.” Perry motioned to her. “When was the last time you showered? You haven’t even changed your clothes. How long has it been since you’ve gotten out of bed?”

Dita said nothing.

Perry stared, her eyes burning into Dita. “I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

She held up the mirror and let it go, but it didn’t fall; it hovered in front of her. Perry closed her eyes, black smoke crawling up her body in tendrils, and the mirror rose, spinning slowly, shining, glowing brighter with every second as Dita watched in horror.

It spun faster, just a blur too bright to look at until it burst, the fragments so fine, they rained down on them like glitter.

“No!” Dita shrieked, tears rolling down her cheeks as she held out her hands to catch the sparkling pieces of her heart. “No,” she whispered as she crumpled. And she shattered with the glass and metal and magic that had given her Adonis.

But she’d lost him again.

“I’m sorry,” Perry said, her voice laden with a dozen emotions, but Dita didn’t care.

“No, you’re not.” Dita looked up with hot, fat tears speeding down her cheeks.

Perry’s face wrenched. “How can you say that?”

“You’ve ruined it,” Dita whispered. “You’ve ruined everything.”

Perry’s cheeks were red, her words low and harsh. “I can’t believe you would ever say that to me. I can’t believe you would hide this from me. Or maybe I can. You will have your way, no matter the cost.” She turned and slipped off the bed, pausing to look down at Dita. “I’m trying to help you. Are you so blind?” Perry laid a hard look on her. “You have got to find a way to see yourself. You need to deal with what you’ve been through. You have to because you will never get past this if you don’t.”

She turned and took a few steps, stopping in the doorway to address Dita a final time. “I am sorry, and you know that, but he’s gone. Let him go.” And with that, she was gone too.

Dita took a breath that caught in her throat, and she lay down in her bed, not able to feel anything but her pain. And she curled up into a small ball, clutching her bedding to her chest, alone.

Ares buried his face in her golden hair, his hands roaming down her naked body. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, needing her like air as he slammed into her again and again.

“Aphrodite,” he whispered in her ear.

Anaideia shifted underneath him, shoving him off her. “Fuck you, Ares,” she panted as she climbed out of his bed.

“Ana, wait.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she picked up the trail of clothes scattered all over his floor. “Why? I never expect you to be over her, but I’m out the second you call me by her name.” She pulled her jeans on and shirt, walking away with the parting words, “At least I got off first.”

“Come on, don’t leave.”

She spun around, smiling, her blue eyes flashing in her heart-shaped face. “Go fuck yourself. I hope you and your fist are real happy together.” Her smile promised his offense wouldn’t go unpunished. “See ya next time. Practice keeping your mouth shut because you ruin it for everybody when you open it.”

Her hips swayed as she walked away and to the elevator, and he propped his head on his hand to watch.

He and Ana had a long-standing arrangement, one that involved more fucking than talking. She was the goddess of all things shameless, ruthless, and unforgiving. All traits he admired, but in that moment, he wondered how he’d pay for calling her by Dita’s name.

Ares sighed and stretched out in bed, folding his hands under his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Ana was right; he wasn’t over Dita. He never would be, and he’d never pretend to be.

He’d known the second she stepped foot in Olympus, and in the days since, he’d been consumed by the nearness of her but the chasm between them was unpassable. But there was nothing to be done, not yet at least. Not with everyone watching him like he would start flipping tables at any given moment. And he couldn’t see her alone; if Zeus found out he’d been to her apartment, things would get ugly, fast.

So he’d taken to loitering in the common rooms, hoping he’d see her, hoping to catch her alone, but his patience was wearing thin.

Not that he knew what he’d say to her when he did finally get to her. What could he possibly say? There would be no forgiveness, not yet. He would have to wait and practice restraint in the hope that, given a little time, he would find an opening to exploit.

But patience and restraint never had been easy for him. What his heart wanted overrode anything his head had to say on the matter. And, if he found himself with the opportunity, he didn’t know that he’d wait at all.

All of Olympus had been gossiping about her, and her absence had only made it worse. The longer she hid away in her room, the more they considered it confirmation of their rumors. But no one brought her up to him, not after he’d thrown a lesser god through a wall for cracking a joke about her.

Ares wondered what she was doing right then, if she was sleeping or planning for the competition. The match was one he was interested in—not because of the players, but because Rhodes was involved. The psycho bastard was one of his own and had been inspired to kill by Ares more than a few times.

Rhodes was calculating and methodical, feeling nothing but apathy outside of each kill. Something in him was twisted and sideways, and he knew it. He knew he didn’t belong, but he knew how to survive, going about unnoticed, living every day for the time he could kill again, a compulsive ritual that completed a cycle for a sociopathic killer.

Yes, Ares liked him very much.

He looked in on Rhodes, who was descending the stairs into his dark basement.

Rhodes flipped the switch on the wall.

The naked bulbs hanging from dusty exposed beams flickered to life, throwing long shadows and hard highlights across everything the light could reach.

It was behind the crawl space. He could feel it—he could always feel it—like his own beating heart. He knelt, moving the folded up cardboard boxes out of the way, reaching between the beams.

Relief slipped over him when his fingers grazed the side of the cherry wood jewelry box.

He picked it up and reverently carried it to his old tweed couch where he sat, setting the box on the worn coffee table.

For a moment, he looked at it, laid his palm on the top of the smooth wood, the harsh light illuminating his fingers and the grain of the wood.

And then he opened it up—his box of treasures, that which he held most dear in all the world.

He reached in and picked up a necklace—a heart pendant hanging from a thin gold chain. She’d said her name was Cindy. He could see her face as clearly as if he’d only seen it weeks ago, though it had been years since he held her neck in his hands until her heart stopped.

Rhodes laid it back in the drawer with its sisters, trailing his fingers over his collection—one piece of jewelry for each girl. And when he touched them, he was taken back to the moment he’d taken them for his own.

Images flashed through his mind like a flip book, each memory captured as he’d stood over them, looking down into his hand as he touched his keepsake at the height of his high. The bulk of his trophies were cheap and gaudy, nothing of monetary value, but that didn’t matter. Not to him.

Hookers were the simplest choice, girls who were untraceable, expendable, women who no one looked for. He’d pick them up and bring them home, in through the attached garage and to the basement.

There was always a moment, a single moment in time when they figured it out. Sometimes it was before they’d even made it down the stairs. Sometimes it wasn’t until his hands were around their necks.

Either way, the end was always the same. But the moment they realized their fate had impressed in his mind. It was the beginning of the end.

His method had been honed over the years—only prostitutes, twice per year at most, strangled on the cement floor of the basement, wrapped in plastic, dumped in a waterway.

He never, ever strayed from his method.

Not until Hannah.

The first time he’d seen her was just after Labor Day the year before. He’d been mowing the grass after he came home from work and remembered turning to trudge back up the lawn to see a flash of red—her cheerleading uniform—as she crossed the street, heading toward him. He’d stopped moving. The mower had sat idle in front of him as he watched her, and he’d reached down and pulled the bag off, playing as if he’d meant to stop even though he’d just emptied it a few minutes before.

She’d given him a small smile as she walked past his house with her ponytail swinging.

Hannah had been more than he could resist. All he could see was Jane when he looked at her, and Jane…

Sweet Jane.

Rhodes smiled as he opened the bottom drawer of the jewelry box, which was empty, save for Hannah’s small diamond earrings and a necklace with a gold J hanging from it. He’d given it to Jane on her birthday that year, 1984.

She hadn’t even said thank you.

Jane had made her way through a good portion of the football team, and when she’d asked him to homecoming, he couldn’t say no. She’d been known for being ruthless, and he’d worked so hard to fit in, to play along. He’d always known he was different, and Jane had held the power to ruin everything he’d built, explode his cover into dust with her rumors and gossip.

Her sole purpose in life had seemed to be to get him to sleep with her, a task that stressed an overwhelmed him. Getting hard had never been easy, and Jane was vicious; she’d ruin him if she found out. A few times when they’d been making out, he’d gotten a little turned on, which gave him hope. His best-case scenario was one where he could get it up and get it over with so he could break up with her and get back to some semblance of normality.

He’d just wanted to be left alone.

That night, that first night, they had parked in the woods at the trails where the kids partied and went mudding. It was empty that night of other cars, and Jane was on a mission, her hands diving into his pants. He was limp and soft despite her breasts in his face and tongue down his throat as she straddled him with the wheel of his truck at her back.

His lack of enthusiasm didn’t stop Jane, not at first. He’d been staring at her tits, hoping for a miracle, but nothing happened, and after a few minutes, she pulled back.

“God, what the fuck, Corey?” She climbed off of him. “You should have just told me you were a fag so we could have avoided all this.”

He ran a hand over his tired face. “Fuck you, Jane.”

“Apparently, you can’t.” She wiped off her lips, disgusted, and laughed. “I can’t fucking wait to tell everybody that Corey Rhodes can’t get it up. No wonder you’ve been pussing out about this. Have you always had your little problem? Maybe you should see someone about that.”

He clenched his jaw. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, asshole.” Her voice was hard and cold as stone, all humor gone. “Hand me my shirt.”

He looked her over for a moment, rage rolling under the surface of his skin like boiling oil. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” She rolled her eyes and spoke to him like a child. “Just be the pussy you are and hand me my shirt.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Shut the fuck up, Jane.”

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

His fist tightened. “No.” His dick stirred in his pants, and he smiled when she tried to pull away.

“You’re hurting me.” A spark of fear lit behind her eyes.

“I don’t care.”

She tried to pull away again. “Take me home, asshole.”

“We’re doing this, Jane. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

His hand trailed down her chest, and he yanked her bra down, exposing her breasts. She jumped.

“Stop it, Corey.” Her voice wavered.

“You don’t want me to stop. Look at what you did.” He took her other hand and laid it on his bulge.

“You sick fuck,” she whispered. “I’m not fucking kidding. Let me go.”

“No,” he growled.

She slapped him hard, but he grabbed her forearms, threw her down on the bench seat, and gave her what she’d wanted all along. She didn’t stop fighting, not even when he rid her of her panties, not when he slammed into her, not when he wrapped his hands around her neck. He barely felt her scrabbling against him, not registering when her arm slipped away and she lay still, and he came so hard, he thought his heart would stop.

When he came around, he looked down at Jane and unclenched his fingers, the skin underneath already turning from red to some strange deeper shade of purple. Her mouth hung open, her hair hanging across her face. He moved it away, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

Her necklace caught in a strand of hair, and he smiled as he unclasped the chain and laid it in his palm. What was once supposed to be a symbol of their relationship became a symbol of something new. The rush he got as he touched it was almost more than he could stand, and for a long moment, he sat in the cab of his truck with his head against the back window and his eyes closed, cock in his hand and heart on fire.

He glanced down at Jane again, knowing he should feel guilt and remorse but he didn’t. He felt free, free from Jane, free from chains he hadn’t known bound him. He slid Jane over, turned the ignition, and drove deeper into the woods, more calm and satisfied than he’d ever been in his entire life.

Rhodes rubbed the necklace a last time before laying it back in its drawer. He picked up Hannah’s earrings and laid them in his hand, turning his head as he inspected them.

From the first time he’d seen her, he’d fantasized about her, but he couldn’t make a move. It had been dangerous, too dangerous, but he’d found he couldn’t turn off the part of himself that wanted her. It’d whispered in his ear the things he could do to her, replaying Jane over and over again on a loop, and every time he had seen her walking home from school in that goddamn crimson cheerleading uniform, the urge had grown.

He always tried to make sure he was outside when she passed by in the evenings that she had cheerleading practice, and on the night he’d finally gotten his chance, it had been by sheer luck.

Rhodes had been in his driveway, dragging his trash cans to the alley when he saw her hurrying through the dark street in the chilly autumn night. He froze, not expecting to see her so late. The disappointment at missing her earlier erased the second he spotted her.

She gave him a wary smile as she walked toward him. Her eyes darted across the street, and he wondered if she was going to cross to avoid him.

“Hey.” He smiled as he tugged a trash can up to the curb.

“Hey,” she said with her hands in the pockets of her oversize letter jacket and her ponytail bobbing.

He picked up another trash can and banged it into the first. It hit the pavement with a thunk and a clatter, and his recycling skittered across the pavement in her path.

“Shit, I am so sorry.” He bent down to pick up cans.

“Here, let me help you.” She knelt next to him, close enough to touch.

He glanced around and saw no one.

“Thanks,” he said as they stood.

She deposited an armful of cans into the trash and smiled up at him. “No problem.”

“It’s freezing out here. You don’t live far, do you?”

“No, I’m just around the corner.” She glanced down the street.

“Ah.” He nodded and glanced down at her uniform. “So, you’re a cheerleader?”

“Yeah. Go Bulldogs!” She propped a hand on her hip and threw the other in the air with mock enthusiasm.

He laughed, and she smiled back.

“I’m Corey.”

“Hannah,” she said as she took his hand.

“Your hands are like ice cubes.” They were small, soft, and cold in his. He rubbed her knuckle with his thumb, not even conscious that he was doing it. “Come on inside for some cider.”

Her eyes dropped to his hand. “I really should go.”

He squeezed. “I insist.”

She tried to pull away, and the look passed across her face. He pulled her into his chest and laid a hand over her mouth.

“Shh. Don’t fight, Hannah,” he said into her hair as he dragged her into his garage.

The memory was as crisp as the light twinkling off her earrings in his hand.

They hadn’t found her body for weeks, and even though he had hoped for more time, he was satisfied. He’d had to switch up his routine for her, unable to use the secluded inlets to the river where he usually dumped the girls. His regular method would never have worked for Hannah. No one looked for prostitutes, but a sixteen-year-old girl would have all the patrols out.

So Rhodes drove into northern New Jersey, to the Delaware Water Gap, through the winding path around the national park. The night was black by the time he pulled into a small inlet to the river, surrounded by pines and maples. He opened his trunk, pulled out his waders, and stepped into them. The plastic wrapped around her crinkled as he lifted her out, her skin already gray against her red uniform, her body stiff in his arms, and he carried her into the lake like a child, taking a last look at her before he let her go.

The black water swallowed her up, and then she was gone.

He’d acted on impulse, which was something he hadn’t done since Jane. And being out of his routine unnerved him, his paranoia nearly driving him mad as he drove home. But he told himself that by the time Hannah was found, if she were found, there would be no evidence.

He hadn’t been overly concerned, not even when the PI had come asking around, not even when he’d realized she knew something wasn’t right. There was nothing she could do, no evidence that she could dig up on him.

Or so he’d thought.

A few weeks after he’d killed Hannah, he’d gotten a call from Troy, an old high school friend who worked at the library in their hometown. Troy had filled him in. The same redheaded PI who had grilled him about Hannah a few days before had gone to Deer Lodge, and the librarian had told her all about Jane and Sheriff Jackson. The investigator had photocopied all the old newspapers, and Rhodes could only assume she would speak to Jackson.

Out of everyone, the old Sheriff was the one person who’d been bound and determined to pin him for Jane’s death. Some days, Rhodes didn’t know how he’d gotten away with it.

Josie Campbell had walked away with something, and whatever it was, he wanted it. The thought consumed him as he staked out her apartment. She’d been easy enough to find, though he had no plan. He just waited through most of the day and into the evening, looking for some sign, some opportunity.

When he spotted her red hair, he recognized her. But, when he noticed the box under her arm marked with the name Bernard, rage filled him like a hot, angry wind.

She had more than he’d anticipated.

He had to get that box.

She left less than a half hour later, and her apartment was dark. He pulled on his gloves, cutting through the buildings, finding the fire escape around the back that led to an open window. A dumpster stood nearby, perfect to reach the ladder, so he climbed up and jumped for it, hoisting himself up rung by rung until he was on the platform. He waited by the window, listening. He only heard music playing, so he ducked into the bedroom and walked through the apartment.

Two desks sat against the long wall of the living room, and he spotted the box almost immediately. It was the exact moment that a girl walked in from the other bedroom.

They both froze, staring at each other with hanging jaws. He didn’t know who she was, hadn’t realized that Campbell had a roommate. He’d been careless. Again.

They moved at the same time, both running for the desks where he saw a pistol behind her laptop. She was reaching for it when he punched her. She spun around, knocking a lamp over as she fell to the floor, and blood spilled from her mouth.

He climbed on top of her and flipped her over while she kicked at him, but he was undeterred, his hands wrapping around her neck. She thrashed, her mouth opening and closing, hands scratching at his jacket, and he closed his eyes and breathed deep.

It was too much to resist.

He let her go, and she gasped and clawed at her throat, trying to scramble back as he unzipped his pants, but she was still too stunned to put up enough of a fight to matter. He shredded her clothes, opened her legs, laid his hands around her neck again and squeezed, feeling her pulse against his palms, watching her mouth search for air. Her eyes rolled back as her life slipped away, and he came as her body went limp, her fisted hands on his sleeves falling to the ground with a soft thump.

His heart beat like a piston as he pulled away and reached for her necklace, unclasping it as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. Rhodes stood, took off his glove, and looked down at the girl, then at the silver disc in his hand, touching the small bird imprinted there, and he felt the circle of his ritual close.

He pulled on the glove again and stuffed the necklace into his pocket before taking stock of the messy room, devising a plan. He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom where he laid her in the huge claw-foot tub. His eyes scanned the room for bleach, anything he could use to compromise the DNA that he’d left behind, and when he opened the cabinet under the sink, he found something even better. A bottle of Drano.

He turned to her where she lay in the tub and plugged the drain. He put the spout inside of her and squeezed before pouring what was left in the bottle into the bathtub. The faucet squeaked when he turned the handle, and the shower stream rained down on her body.

Satisfied, he went back to the living room to get what he’d come for. When he lifted the lid to the box, he found everything—photos of Jane sprawled out in the snow, interview tapes, his fingerprints—and he knew his concern was justified. He grabbed the girl’s laptop and made for the back window again where he placed the box on the platform and climbed out, closing the window behind him.

It wasn’t until he got home that he discovered that her necklace was gone.

He flew into a rage when he discovered it was missing and didn’t sleep for days. The papers and tapes, he’d burned that night, and the laptop he’d wiped and sold anonymously on Craigslist at a coffee shop the next day. He went back to her apartment three times but never found her necklace.

After a week, he knew no one else had found it either. It was little comfort. The necklace was not only the thing he needed for his own devices — he’d touched it. If it were ever found, it could be the end of him. His only hope was that it had fallen out somewhere far away from her apartment and would never come to light.

He sat in his basement, thinking back, forever sick at the thought of losing it, fighting the compulsion to go back as he had so many times before. Even if it were ever found, his prints weren’t on record anywhere. But one arrest would be all it took.

So he’d prepared everything he could to leave town at a moment’s notice, though he hoped he’d never have to. He’d kept his nose clean for his entire life and doubted he’d start being reckless anytime soon—or at least, never as reckless as he had been.

Rhodes’s fist was clenched; Hannah’s earring posts bit into his palm. He relaxed his fingers and laid the earrings in the drawer, next to Jane’s necklace, before closing it up and moving it back to its spot in the wall, reassuring himself as he climbed the stairs that, if he were going to get caught, it would have happened already.

Josie zipped up her leather jacket as she walked up 8th toward the Port Authority Bus Terminal. It was just after dark, and the chill of the evening was refreshing after being stuck inside all day. She’d been digging through the previous week’s police blotters, the master lists of crimes committed, looking for anything that fit Rhodes.

Hitting up her contacts was also on her to-do list, which was where she was headed. Over the months, she’d been making her way around the west side and east Jersey to the common haunts of the working girls. All the suspected victims had been hookers, and armed with a stack of photos, she’d gone in search of any information she could find. She had befriended more than a few of the girls, and they were always willing to help.

Something was going to change soon. She could feel it.

She knew a few girls who hung around the Port Authority and hoped to catch one of them before circling back to the garage where she kept her car. She had big plans for a long night of staking out Rhodes, complete with a full grocery bag of candy and her favorite book.

Josie passed the terminal and looped back up 9th without seeing any of the girls she knew, disappointed by her misfortune until she spotted Trish leaning against a brick wall. Her gold sequined miniskirt was short enough and her platform stilettos tall enough that her tan legs looked ten miles long. Her hands were in the pockets of her cropped jacket, and her hot-pink lips stretched into a big smile as Josie walked up.

“Josie! Hey, girl.”

She smiled back. “Hey, Trish. How’s it going?”

Her hazel eyes twinkled. “Slow, but the night is young. What’s up?”

Josie leaned against the wall next to her. “Nothing really. I’ve been researching all day and was just headed out for some surveillance. Just thought I’d check in. Any word?”

“Actually, I just ran into some girls from Jersey City the other day that I hadn’t seen in forever. Asked them if they knew anybody on your list, but they didn’t know any of your girls.”

Josie raised an eyebrow. “Did you commit the list to memory?”

“Oh, hell no. I carry it with me. Check it out.” She dug around in her huge purse and pulled out a sheet of paper with a grid of photos and names printed on the front and back.

Josie took the sheet and looked it over, impressed. “Smart thinking, Trish.”

“Thanks.” Trish grinned and gave a little shrug. “I know a little Photoshop, so I put this together to hand out to the other girls. Lookit, I put that scum’s photo here,” she said as she glanced over the top of the paper and pointed, “and your number is at the bottom.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Why, thank you.” She tipped her head and popped her gum. “I got extras, if you want some.”

“Absolutely. Are you being careful?”

“Like always. I keep tellin’ the girls not to hang by themselves. It’s not easy though. We make more money solo, but maybe if everybody knows what the John looks like, we can avoid him and call you if we spot him.” She deposited the paper and exchanged it for a cigarette, a lighter, and a stack of fresh flyers, which she handed to Josie.

Josie looked over them and shook her head. “Trish, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Girl, don’t thank me. We oughta be thanking you. Nobody really gives a shit about us.” She lit her cigarette and blew out a long line of smoke. “It doesn’t matter that I started taking college classes or that Gina works because her ma got real sick. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t what we want or that most of us are trying to get out of it. We’re not people to them, just a bunch of whores. But you care, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

“You’re one in a million.”

“Psh, maybe a hundred thousand,” she said with a smirk. “So, how’s the business of chasing bad guys?”

“Slow, but the night is young.”

Trish laughed and bobbed her head. “That’s right. You keep that chin up.”

“You too, and call me if you hear anything.” Josie pushed off the wall.

“You got it, Josie. See ya around.”

Josie turned and headed to her car, feeling a little lighter knowing that Trish was heading up the effort to keep the girls on alert. She needed all the help she could get.

It wasn’t long before she was in her car and across the river for her surveillance job, which sounded so much less creepy than stalking. When she made it to Weehawken, she did a drive-by of his house. He was home, lights on, windows open, and she caught sight of him as he walked through his living room.

She rolled around the block and into the alley where she parked eight or nine houses down, facing his garage. Once Josie reclined her seat and turned on her portable speaker, she reached into her bag of candy in the backseat and pulled out a packet of Skittles with her eyes on his driveway and all the time in the world.

When Josie walked out of her building, Jon checked his watch to note the time. It was after seven, and the sun had just fallen, hiding him in the shadows where he leaned against an alley wall just down from her building. His legs were stiff as he pushed away and followed her.

He’d spent the day before digging up whatever he could on Rhodes, but he wasn’t any closer to seeing what Josie had on him. He couldn’t understand why she was after Rhodes; the guy was cleaner than clean. Jon didn’t have a lot of friends in the PD anymore, not after leaving Josie, so all he had to go on was the guy’s name, address, and little else.

Jon and Josie had worked together long enough for him to know just how focused she was when she worked a case, and this was no ordinary case. If Josie thought Rhodes had killed Anne, he could only imagine that she was obsessing, and that worried him. A lot. So he’d decided to tail her, hoping he could get some insight. It was day one, and so far, Josie had sat in her apartment all day while he chewed through a Louis L’Amour novel and scribbled out letters to her that she’d never see.

He kept his distance as she walked toward 8th, her hair shining bright as she passed under a streetlight and turned south. The thrill of seeing her coupled with the rush that came along with tailing someone made his entire body hum in the crisp, spring evening.

Josie stopped to talk to a girl in a sequined skirt, and he hung back, stopping at a newspaper stand to flip through a magazine. He stood just out of the light, trying to figure out what she was doing walking around Manhattan in circles on a Wednesday night. When she took off again, he followed, smiling as he passed the girl in the sequined skirt he assumed was a prostitute, which was confirmed when she catcalled him as he walked by.

Josie turned another corner, and when he rounded it behind her, he caught a glimpse of her walking into the parking garage where they each had monthly passes.

Jon trotted to one of the stairwells and to his car, hearing her engine turn over, the sound echoing against the concrete walls. He followed her out of Manhattan at a distance, able to get away with tailing her easily enough. As good as she was, he was her equal, if not better.

But as she made it across the river to Weehawken, his stomach crawled. Rhodes lived in Weehawken. He pulled up the address on his phone’s map, and the closer they got, he knew. His heart squeezed tighter when she drove past his house and turned the corner to the alley.

He drove around the block and pulled into the alley with his lights off, parking well behind her. When he killed the engine, he sat stunned in his Jeep, staring at the back of her head as she rummaged around in her car. She was following Rhodes, and he wondered why the hell she’d do such a thing and what in God’s name she had on him.

Jon shifted in his seat as he processed his thoughts, and his knee bumped his keys with a small clink. He looked down at them and spread them out in his palm.

He still had a key to her apartment.

He didn’t know why he’d never gotten rid of it, though he’d thought about it a hundred times. It felt wrong to throw it away, and he couldn’t mail it to her and break their silence with something so final. He’d considered taking it off and throwing it in a drawer, but instead, he kept it on his key ring, that little piece of cold metal the only thing he had to remember her by.

Not that he needed help.

Jon weighed his options. She would be so pissed if he broke in. Actually, pissed was a gross understatement. Although technically he had a key. But surely she’d had the locks changed after Anne died.

Of course, that wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to get in since he always had his lock picks.

Could he justify it? There was no other way to find out what was going on. He didn’t want to violate her privacy, but what other choice did he have? She could be in too deep, deeper than even she realized, as close as she was to the whole thing. What if Rhodes was dangerous? What if she got hurt?

That final thought was all it took. He left his lights off, turned his key in the ignition, and backed out of the alley to head to her place, buzzing the whole way with anticipation and guilt.

As he walked under the stone archway of her building entrance for the first time in three years, memories rushed over him so fast, he thought they might knock him over. He paused at the step in her stairwell where he’d kissed her for the first time, imagining the moment as he had so many times over the last three years. She had hung on to him like she would have dropped to her knees if he’d let her go.

She’d told him she’d follow him anywhere. Maybe she would have, too.

His feet felt like bricks as he kept moving. When he reached her door, he looked at the number hanging on it, thinking of all the times he’d stood there, saying long hellos and longer goodbyes. He thought back to the day his boots had rested in that exact spot—his crying, pregnant ex-girlfriend in a U-Haul out front—as he’d laid a note on Josie’s doorstep, one that she never got. He remembered touching her name on the envelope before walking his broken heart out of that building and driving it a thousand miles away.

Jon swallowed hard and pulled his keys out of his pocket, sorting through them in his palm until he came to hers. He took a deep breath and said a little prayer as he slipped the key in and turned, waiting for resistance that never came. The bolt clicked, and Jon was on the edge of giddy, just like that.

He pushed open the door to the dark apartment and closed it quietly behind him. Walking into her apartment was like stepping into a time machine. Anne’s desk was gone, and Josie had gotten a new rug and lamps, but otherwise, everything was the same. It even smelled like he remembered. It was almost too much to stand.

Jon reached for the lamp, and when he clicked it on, his heart fell into his stomach.

Across the long wall of the living room was an evidence board packed with papers, photographs, maps, and newspaper articles. Red string stretched across the wall in a web, and in the center was Rhodes.

Jon walked numbly to the wall with his mind racing as he stared, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Murders across the years, starting in 1984. There were dozens of them, all documented right there in front of him. Crime scene photos of dead girls in shades of purple and gray, wrapped in plastic. He touched Anne’s photo at the end of the line and took a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The weight of that wall hit him like a bucket of ice water. All those girls, all those years, and Josie had put it all together. He felt sick and impressed and scared for her in that moment, thinking about her sitting outside Rhodes’s place. How many times had she gone? If Rhodes knew, what would he do to her?

He pictured her photo on that wall next to Anne and felt the contents of his stomach rush up. There was no way he could let her go it alone. He couldn’t see her hurt. Because he knew damn well she wouldn’t quit, not until Rhodes was put away.

He stepped back and ran a hand over his mouth, studying the photos as ominous wonder twisted through him. There was only one thing he could do.

Jon pulled out his phone and moved to Jane Bernard’s case where he snapped the first photo.

Josie looked up from her worn paperback of Breakfast of Champions and scanned the still, quiet street. She didn’t even know if she actually expected Rhodes to leave, but she didn’t want to go home to the emptiness. At least she was doing something, putting energy into Rhodes. There wasn’t much else she could do.

Her stomach churned at the notion that she had nothing left to do. But she had to find a way. Because she needed to prove it. All of it.

A knock rapped at her window, and she jumped so hard, she whacked her elbow on her door handle. Her eyes bugged when she saw Jon smiling at her from outside the glass.

“What the fuck?” Her heart was a motor in her chest, and she took a long breath, trying to slow it down.

“You gonna let me in?” His voice was muffled, still clear enough to hear the timbre, deep and low, that soft lilt of his accent that made her lose her mind.

She didn’t answer, just hit the unlock button.

Jon popped open the door and slipped into her passenger seat, closing the door behind him with a thump. He angled toward her, putting his back to the door, and folded his arms across his chest.

Josie was shocked, confused, and madder than all hell. “Why are you following me?”

He glanced toward Rhodes’s house. “You decided you weren’t gonna tell me anything about anything, so I had to find out on my own.”

“Oh, you had to, did you?”

“I did. Did you really expect me to give up on wondering what happened to Anne?”

No.

“Yes.”

He laughed, the low rumble filling the small space. “You know better than that. By the way,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, “I’ve been meaning to give this back to you.”

She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. All the breath left her in a whoosh. “You broke into my apartment?”

“I had a key. That you gave me.”

“Three years ago. Before you disappeared.” She snatched the key from his hand.

“Why didn’t you change the locks, Jo?”

“None of your goddamn business,” she spat. She certainly would now.

“I’m sorry, Josie,” he said. And he even looked sorry, which upset her even more. “But you weren’t giving anything up, and I had to know. You’d have done the same.”

“Fuck you.” Her voice wavered, and she hated herself for it.

“Listen, Jo, I saw your wall, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be following this guy. If he did what you think he’s done…I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think is or isn’t a good idea. Goddammit, Jon. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m trying to help—”

“I don’t need your help.” She was almost yelling and took a deep breath.

“No, you don’t. You seem to be doing a fine job on your own.”

She shot him a look, and he shook his head.

“I’m not bullshitting. You might be right about Rhodes, but I don’t believe you couldn’t use help. And I do believe that this whole thing could put you in danger.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been in danger. I know how to handle myself.”

Jon’s brows dropped with his voice, which was resolute. “You stubborn-ass woman. Don’t you understand that I don’t want you to get hurt?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want.”

He was silent for a moment as he looked over her, and her muscles were burning with restraint. Because all she wanted was to reach out and hit him, push him, get the energy out of her arms through her fist and into him. It took everything she had to sit still; she trembled from the force.

“I don’t believe that either,” he said, plainly and without doubt.

She lost it. “Why are you doing this to me? Can’t you just leave me alone?” Her eyes stung. She was practically snarling. “You left me alone for three fucking years, and now, you’re back and everywhere, even in my fucking goddamn apartment. Jon, you have to stay away. Stay away from me, stay out of my life, and get the fuck out of my car before I hurt you.”

He looked as miserable as she felt as he watched her across the space between them in silence. She counted through four breaths before he finally opened the car door and stepped out, leaning in one final time.

“Please, be careful.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just shut the door and walked away.

Dita stared at her tiled bedroom ceiling in the near dark. Her eyelids were iron curtains, but she found no sleep. She rubbed her aching eyes and rolled over to face her clock.

Two in the morning.

She blinked, slow and heavy.

Shame and anger stirred like a sleeping beast in her chest as she lay exactly where Perry had left her. Dita had lied, but Perry had taken it too far, and now she’d lost Adonis once more. Perry had just destroyed the mirror without any real debate or chance at compromise.

Dita was destined to never have Adonis, the cycle of holding him for a moment and losing him repeating over and over. Something always brought her back to him. And somehow it never hurt less even though it had been expected; it cut deeper every time.

Some part of Dita had been restored just by seeing him, just by knowing he existed somewhere even if he was beyond her reach. But he was gone again—forever. The loss was too much to bear, too cold in her chest, the wound gaping and raw. She wrapped her arms around her knees and squeezed.

Even under the best of circumstances, the hours that stretched through the night were the hardest. When left alone to her thoughts in the darkness, she would obsess about every decision, every mistake. Her heart would break fresh a thousand times every night. She longed for Elysium, for the cool breeze under the olive tree’s canopy, for Adonis’s arms. But it was all gone. It had all been a lie, and she had no one to turn to.

In that moment, she found herself more alone than she had been in her entire existence.

A sob shuddered in her chest, and she drew a shaky breath as the tears she’d thought were gone rolled down her cheeks.

Her life was a thing unrecognizable, a tangled, knotted chain of choices that bound her. How could she have let it happen? How could she have lost everything? And how could she ever break free?

And in her mind she saw herself, a dove in a cage that burst in an explosion of twinkling glass, and she pumped her wings, higher and higher, leaving everything behind until it was small enough that it couldn’t hurt her.

The bed moved at her feet, and she looked down at a mound under the sheets and blankets that grew bigger and wider as it inched toward her. She made out his back and then his head as he moved up the bed, and when the covers slipped back, it was Ares, huge and red, his eyes full of hate, his teeth flashing white as he smiled and wrapped his hands around her neck.

Her body jerked as she woke, her heart beating fast and sharp as she gasped for air. She could still feel the weight of him, the ghost of his fingers against her skin.

She took a shuddering breath.

It was only a dream. Just a dream.

The thought didn’t make her feel any better. She glanced at the clock. It was three.

Her nerves crawled, and her stomach rolled, grumbling and twisting and gnawing itself. She couldn’t lie there a second longer, so she kicked her covers off and paced around the dark room.

She didn’t know what to do with herself, and she couldn’t ask the one person who usually had the answer.

What would Perry do?

Perry would probably make her eat something and bring her some tea, but to do that on her own would mean going upstairs. Alone. She paused, trying to convince herself that no one would be in the kitchen so late, surely.

So she slipped on flip-flops and headed for the elevator.

A few minutes later, Dita shuffled her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to stare at the ambrosia lined up on the shelves. She grabbed a plate and a bottle of nectar and took them to the counter, eyeballing the glop while trying to figure out what sounded good.

Cookies. Cookies always sound good.

She closed her eyes, opening them to a heaping plate of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies. After that, she poured a glass of nectar and blinked, transforming it into milk.

Dita sat down at the bar and tucked in, shoveling food into her mouth in silence, but about halfway through her third cookie, she felt someone behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, every bite came rushing up.

Ares was close enough to touch, his face unreadable, his dark hair a mess. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe with his eyes boring into her.

He loomed over her.

Neither of them moved.

Ares broke the connection and stepped around the bar.

She couldn’t look away, paralyzed.

“I’ve been waiting to talk to you,” he said.

Her stomach turned, her body numb. She wanted to get up and run, but her legs wouldn’t respond.

“How are you?”

That question was so ridiculous, she almost laughed. Somehow, she found her voice. “You’re kidding. Please, tell me you’re kidding.” She balled her shaking hands into fists and laid them in her lap.

He looked at her with so much feeling that she felt the tug, that pull to him, and her nerves screamed at her.

His voice was low. “I know you don’t think I have any right to ask—”

She was hot and cold all at once. “No. You have no rights, not when it comes to me.”

He studied her face for a long moment until she couldn’t take it anymore.

She pushed her chair back and stood. “I can’t do this,” she said under her breath as she turned to walk away.

With three swift steps, he was behind her, grabbing her arm just enough to control her. He pulled her to a stop, and she jerked her arm away from him.

Ares straightened up, his jaw set as he looked down at her. “Dita, you have to talk to me eventually.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’ve said all I needed to say.”

“Please.” Command snaked the undercurrent of the word.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered through her teeth. She spun away from him, walking as fast as she could without running toward the elevator.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” he called after her.

She turned when she made it into the elevator and watched him as the doors closed, the shadows from the dim light hiding his eyes, his jaw flexing as he watched her run away.

She leaned against the cool metal wall, holding herself up by the handrail. Her eyes closed, but she didn’t move, not until she heard the doors open. When she stumbled out and looked around, it was with confusion.

It took her a moment to realize that she was in Heff’s foyer.

As she stood stupidly for a second, trying to figure out what was going on, Heff padded into the room in sleep pants, his chest bare. He ran his hand through his dark hair and squinted at her.

“Dita?” His eyes snapped open, and his brow dropped as he moved for her. “What happened?”

He stopped in front of her, cupped her cheek, searched her face. His fingers against her skin were like fire, and his eyes held her.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Tell me what happened,” he urged.

Her shoulders sagged, and she closed her eyes.

“Come here. Come sit down.”

Heff scooped her into his chest. He smelled of wood smoke, and she pressed her cheek against him, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.

He pulled away and guided her to sit on his black leather couch.

She stared at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.”

He sat next to her and angled to rest his forearm on the back of the low couch. “Tell me.”

She picked at her fingernails. “Perry and I got in a fight.”

“I heard.”

Two words, and she knew he knew everything.

“I figured.” Dita couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just…she destroyed it. It was like I’d gotten a second chance, and she smashed it, and I’m not okay.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him and smiled, though her brows were drawn, her cheeks tight. “I haven’t been upstairs, not since Perry and I fought, and I haven’t been sleeping. Every time I fall asleep, the dreams…” She zoned out for a second and gave her head a shake. “I was so hungry, so I went upstairs. He was there.”

Heff took a breath, and his eyes glinted. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. He wanted to talk.”

Heff didn’t look convinced, and she laid her hand on his knee.

“Really. I’m sorry to worry you. This is why I didn’t want to say anything. This is why I haven’t…”

“I knew you weren’t all right, but I was waiting on you to come to me. You always do, when you’re ready.”

Of course he knew. Of course he gave me space.

“You know me just about better than anyone.”

“I’ve had a long time to learn. I’m glad he didn’t hurt you, for his sake.”

“I’m just…” She dropped her head to her hands, still shaking. “I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to be afraid of him.”

He moved his hand to her back, his touch soft, his words softer. “He has no power over you.”

“But he does, and I don’t know how to break it. I have to, Heff. I have to.” Her voice cracked, her heart broken.

“Shh,” he whispered. He pulled her into his chest as his heart pumped for her and raged at Ares, the pain of one indistinguishable from the other as she lay broken in his arms. “We’ll find a way. I promise.”

DAY 5

A BLANKET OF FOG hung over the city early that morning, low and wet and oppressive. Josie pulled to a stop just down from the home of Renata Boyles, a seventy-year-old hooker who had jumped bail.

Josie’s limbs weighed a hundred pounds as she walked up the sidewalk.

After Jon had taken off the night before, she’d sped home, fighting back tears and her temper. When she’d gotten home, she’d stripped off her jacket and kicked off her shoes, her eyes never leaving the crime shrine, trying to focus, trying to get a grip, but it had been a lost cause.

Jon had broken in and violated her trust and privacy. But, as furious as she had been, she’d found herself wondering what he’d seen when he looked at the wall.

The fact that she cared what he thought had nearly pushed her over the edge, and she’d resisted the temptation to break something, something that would shatter and explode and make that destructive sound as it busted against a wall. Josie thought that sound would somehow make her feel better.

But instead, she’d stared at the board all night, dragging herself to bed just as the sun began to rise. She’d slept for only a few hours before the call from Jerry J’s came in.

So, there she was, heading up the sidewalk in the hopes Renata was still sleeping. And as adrenaline began to zip through her, alertness overrode her exhaustion.

And then she came to a dead fucking halt.

Jon was crouching down by the crawl space lattice next to Renata’s front porch.

Motherfucker.

It took nearly all her willpower not to scream the word at him. He glanced over at her, his eyes bugging for a second before jerking his chin, motioning for her to get down.

Twice in one week, Jerry J’s had fucked up. This alone was rare, but the odds that she’d get crossed with him were astronomical.

She ducked, trotting through the gate to kneel next to him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Good morning to you, too, Josie.” He smiled like they’d run into each other at the grocery store instead of hiding outside an old lady hooker’s house, and he joked like he hadn’t broken into her fucking house the night before. “You look like you got a terrible night’s sleep.”

“Funny.”

“Sarah at Jerry’s sent me.”

She looked out into the street and tried to control herself. “Goddammit. Elaine sent me.”

“I guess we’re together on this one then. Unless you want to give it up?” He rested his elbow on his knee, and his apparent comfort gave her all the resolve she needed.

How he could be so fucking cool, she had no idea. It made her daydream about pistol-whipping him.

“Nice try,” she shot, not willing to give him the satisfaction of letting him win. Just get it done, and get the fuck away from him. “How do you want to play this?”

“I saw her through the open window, watching the Home Shopping Network. We’ve gotta figure out how to get her out of the house.”

“You need to honeytrap her. Just act like you’re a client.”

Jon shook his head and ran a hand through his long hair. “Everybody has their weird bedroom shit, I guess, but a seventy-year-old hooker? Pass.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him on. “Go, Jon.”

He stepped away from the side of the house and was moving toward the stairs when Josie heard the unmistakable click of a safety from the patio.

“Hold it right there, gorgeous.”

Josie glanced up to see a frail old woman in a halter top and yoga pants that hung on her bony hips. Her blonde hair was in a knot, a cigarette was hanging out of her mouth, and her ancient .44 Magnum was aimed directly at Jon.

Jon’s heart drummed as he looked up the barrel at the old woman, who squinted at him.

He held up his hands. “Hey there. Are you Renata? I got your address from a buddy of mine.”

Jon watched out of his periphery as Josie disappeared around the side of the house and hoisted herself into an open window.

“Is that so?” Renata took a long drag and flicked her cigarette butt. She gripped the gun with both hands. “What’s your buddy’s name then?”

“James.”

Renata smiled. “I don’t know no James.” She fired at his feet.

“Holy shit!” Jon yelled as he jumped, shocked that the force of the gun hadn’t blown her back through the screen door. “Jesus Christ, lady, I was just lookin’ for a good time.”

“Oh, I saw you lookin’. Creepin’ around my house. I know who you are, you little shit.”

She fired at his feet again, and he hopped again.

“Fuck! Who do you think I am?”

“Honey, this ain’t my first time at the rodeo. You run back off to Jerry J and tell him you couldn’t find old Renata.”

The screen door squeaked behind her, but before she had a chance to turn, Josie had ahold of her. Another shot rang, and Jon ducked the wild bullet.

The gun clattered to the ground, and Josie held Renata’s wrists, reaching for her cuffs.

“Well, Renata,” Josie said to the metallic click of the handcuffs locking, “you’ve still got your spunk.”

Renata’s scowled. “You don’t know jack-diddly-shit about spunk. I’ve dealt with spunk my whole life, and I ain’t no better for it.”

Josie laughed as Jon climbed the porch stairs, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

He shook his head at the old lady. “Goddamn, Renata. You sure are somethin’, you know that?”

“You have no idea.” Her sour expression disappeared as she wet her lips and dragged her hungry eyes up and down his body. “I sure am pissed to get nabbed, but now that I see you up close, I’m damn glad I didn’t shoot you. You sure are pretty.”

“Hear that, Jo?” He hitched his thumb at Renata. “She thinks I’m pretty.”

Josie’s smile slipped into a scowl. “I don’t even know how you can joke with me right now. We are one hundred percent not okay.” Her conscience seemed to get the best of her, and she added, “Are you all right?”

“Please,” he said with a grin. “Little Renata here can’t scare me.” He winked at the hooker.

“You don’t know me too well then,” Renata answered with a leer. “I could acquaint you, if you’d get rid of the girl.”

“There’s no escaping Josie. Trust me when I say that no amount of time or space can rid you of her once you’ve been exposed,” he said with a light tone and a heavy chest as they helped the old woman down the stairs.

Josie said through her teeth, “You have got to be fucking kidding me. God, you’re impossible. You broke into my apartment, for fuck’s sake.”

“I had a key.”

“You were not authorized to use that key, asshole!” Her voice climbed to the edge of shrill.

“Who dumped who?” Renata asked.

Josie was twitchy, answering sarcastically, “If you’ll believe it, Renata, Jon here actually wrote me a Dear John when he left me for his pregnant ex-girlfriend.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Pretty but not smart.”

“Many women would agree.” Josie glared at him.

“Look at you two bonding,” Jon said cheerily to Josie before he turned to Renata. “You know, that gun’s almost bigger than you are.”

“Oh, honey, I’ve handled much bigger guns than that.”

He laughed. “Now, I’m sure that’s a story I’d love to hear.”

They made their way to Josie’s car, and he put Renata in the backseat, shaking his head as she eyed him suggestively.

“Get in,” Josie said to him, her tone flat and eyes forward as she closed her door.

Jon didn’t move, and she rolled down her window with a hard stare.

“Just take her in, Jo.”

“I’m mad as fuck at you, but you almost got shot. Don’t be an asshole. Just get in and keep your mouth shut. Or, if you want, you can meet me at Jerry’s after I drop Renata off at the station.”

“It’s fine. Just take her in. If you want to split it, let the girls over there know. They know how to find me.”

He watched her fume, wishing he could hop in with her, wishing he didn’t keep cocking things up. But it just seemed to be the state they found themselves in regardless of how much he wanted to change the fact.

Josie put the key in the ignition, his refusal somehow infuriating her even more. There was nothing either of them could do right. It was like dancing with a fucking donkey; no one moved in the same direction, and she kept getting her feet trampled.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” she shot. “I’m trying to be nice here since you could have just died, not that I owe your nosy, sneaky, stalker ass anything.”

“That’s a little dramatic, but you’re right in that you don’t owe me anything.”

Jon leaned into her open window, and she moved back to keep space between them, caught off guard by his proximity. He was close enough that she could smell his soap.

“I know you’re mad as hell, and I don’t blame you. I’m just trying to give you a little space, that’s all. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I went to your apartment without your permission. You know I just want to help.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t need your fucking help, Jon. I don’t want it.”

“I know you don’t want it, but I’m worried about you. This is bigger than flashers and hookers.” He glanced back at Renata. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Renata answered.

“I’m not helpless, Jon.”

“I know you’re not, but if you’re right, this guy is dangerous—and not in the petty-crime way. He’s dangerous in the way that could get you killed. I saw that wall, Jo, and as impressed as I am, it scares me to think that you’re mixed up in this without anyone to help you. I’m just looking out for you, and you know if the tables were turned, you’d do the same for me.”

“What makes you think that I would do anything for you after…well, after everything?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were crystal blue, full of truth.

His words were soft, and she felt herself lean closer as he spoke. “Because I know you. You can tell me all day long that you hate me, but you care. I know you do, and I’m gonna prove to you that I’m worth it. If you ever find a way to trust me with your heart again, I promise you, I will take care of it. I swear I will, and I don’t care how long it takes to convince you.”

Josie stared at him for a long moment, swept away by the cyclone in her head, swept away by his eyes and his nearness and his vow.

But she found herself and looked away, fumbling to turn the key and start the car. “I don’t care, Jon. I really don’t. Don’t waste your time or mine because this game is bullshit, and I’m over it.”

“Okay, Josie,” he said with a sad smile. He looked into the backseat. “Be good, Renata.” His eyes locked back on Josie’s for a second. “I’ll see you around.”

She narrowed her eyes in answer.

Renata called out, “I sure hope so.”

He waved as she drove away, and she couldn’t help but look in her rearview mirror. He stood in the street with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, watching her go.

She blinked back her emotions, looking back at the road just in time to not run a stop sign.

“The fucking nerve,” she said under her breath.

“He doesn’t seem all that bad,” Renata said as she looked out the window.

“Well, he is.” Josie realized her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and she relaxed her hands.

“Men have their way.”

“Yeah, well, his way almost got him shot twice today.”

“Twice?”

“I contemplated popping him myself.”

Renata laughed, the sound gravelly and harsh. “Hopefully not in his pretty parts. That is, if he has any ugly ones.”

“Not really,” Josie grumbled.

“That doesn’t help, does it?”

“Nope.”

Renata caught Josie’s eye in the rearview. “Let me tell you something I’ve learned. When a man cares enough to tell you to your face that he wants you and he’ll fight for you, well, that kind of man is worth listening to.”

Josie wished she could believe it, but she hadn’t come close to forgetting the three years of pain he’d put her through. “I can’t let myself give a shit about what he wants, Renata. For three years, he let me think he didn’t care enough to say goodbye. He left me here without a word to go have a baby with someone else, and I just can’t forgive him for that.”

“Coldhearted, to be sure.”

“Every time I see him, I’m reminded of everything I lost. But it’s like getting shot with rock salt. Burns like a motherfucker, but it won’t kill me.”

Renata busted out laughing again. “I like you, Red.”

Josie smiled back at her. “Sorry I’ve got to take you in.”

“It’s not the first time or the last, I’m certain.”

They rode in silence to the station as Josie chewed on her feelings. She’d told Renata more in a few minutes than she’d willingly given up to anyone since Anne. It felt good, and she was lighter for having vented something off though heavier at the realization it brought. She wasn’t over Jon. She knew it deep down, but to say it out loud was another thing entirely.

She thought back to the time when they’d been together, that golden time that had brought her so much happiness. But there was no going back. Things could never be what they had been. Three years of hurt filled the space since he’d left her, and no amount of charm or honesty could erase what she’d been through.

Josie pulled up at the station and escorted Renata inside, a little sad at turning her in.

Renata said goodbye with a wink and the parting advice, “Don’t let love pass you by, Red.”

Josie nodded with a thanks and a smile, heading for Jerry J’s with her mind still on Jon. She pulled up to the curb outside the bond building, got out of her car, and walked under the red awning featuring a cartoon illustration of Jerry J’s face.

His smile was decidedly untrustworthy.

She made her way in and leaned on the counter, popping the little bell with a ding.

Elaine came out from the back room with a smile on her round face. “Hey, Josie. How’d it go?” Her eyes twinkled from the other side of the counter.

“Funny thing, Jon was there.”

“What the hell?” Elaine’s cheeks flushed, and she blinked. “Again?”

Josie nodded. The stress and annoyance of being continually put in Jon’s space gnawed at her, and she was done being quiet. “He said Sarah sent him. This is twice now, Elaine. What the hell is going on around here?”

“Son of a bitch. Hang on.” She sat down and banged at her keyboard. “It says your name right here. I put you in myself. See?” She turned the monitor so Josie could see her name in the spreadsheet.

Elaine yelled over her shoulder. “Sarah!”

Sarah stuck her head out of the office in the back. “What?”

“Did you send Jon Landreaux after Renata?”

Sarah walked out with her brows drawn. “Well, yeah. The spot was empty.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Look here.” Elaine turned the monitor back again, and Sarah looked over her shoulder. Elaine sniffed. “What is that perfume you’ve got on today? It smells like roses or something. It’s been giving me a headache all morning.”

“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sarah shook her head and put a hand on her hip, pointing the other at the computer screen. “I swear to God, that spot was empty, Elaine. Like I would ever delete a name in the spreadsheet.”

Elaine gave Sarah a look and turned back to Josie. “I’m so sorry. Let me go ahead and cut your check. Did he leave you to it?”

“No, he almost got shot.”

Sarah’s mouth made an O.

Josie snorted a laugh. “Don’t look so concerned. It was actually pretty amusing.”

Sarah relaxed and smiled. “Well, at least it was entertaining. Renata is always packing, but she can’t shoot for shit.”

“Lucky for Jon. That big-ass gun would have blown a hole in him the size of a grapefruit.” Josie watched Elaine write the check. “Just give me half. Make sure Jon gets the other half, okay?”

“You got it, Josie. I’ll cut you a little extra for the trouble. I don’t know how that happened, but I swear it’ll be the last time.”

Elaine pushed the check across the surface, and Josie folded it up and slipped it into her back pocket.

“Thanks.”

She pushed the door open with her back and stepped out into a patch of sunlight, feeling it warm on her face, a promise of spring. The fog seemed to be lifting.

Everywhere, except in her heart.

Jon sat on the floor in the middle of his room that afternoon, surrounded by blown-up photos of Josie’s crime wall. He’d come home after Renata with Josie on his mind and heart and soul.

That moment when he’d leaned into her car, she’d looked up at him, and he could have sworn for a split second she was waiting for a kiss. But the second he’d seen the light in her ignite, she’d snuffed it, and just like that, the moment had been over. He wished he’d just done it. Just slipped his hand into the crook of her neck and kissed those lips he’d been dreaming about for so long.

He wondered what she would have done. Would she have pushed him away or pulled him closer?

Because she could say she hated him until the end of time, but he knew it was a lie.

He laid another photo down, assembling the replica sheet by sheet—the first step to getting it on his own wall so he could look at it all together. Jon picked one up and inspected it, making out the title of an article and the majority of the text, though a portion of it was hidden under another sheet.

It was then that he realized just how much ground he had to make up. And even then, he still didn’t have all the cards.

His door flew open, and Lola ran in. “Daddy-daddy-daddy-daddy!”

He held out his hands to stop her. “No-no-no-no-no! Wait!”

It was too late.

She ran across all the sheets, scattering them before slamming into his chest. And he couldn’t be mad in the slightest, not when she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

“I’m goin’ ni-night.”

He hugged her just as Tori made it to the threshold, looking apologetic.

“Looks like you’re goin’ crazy,” he said.

“I’m not crazy, Daddy. I’m Lola.”

“My mistake.” He kissed her hair. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tori said. “She totally got away from me.”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, twisting it into a small ponytail. “It’s all right. Just trying to get them laid out before I put them on the wall.”

Lola hopped over to Tori, who smoothed the little girl’s curly dark hair.

“It’s nap time, monster. Go get in bed. I’ll be right there.”

She squealed and ran down the hallway.

“How’s it going?” Tori made her way over and knelt down to look at the big photos while Jon tried to put them back where they’d been before Babyzilla blew in.

“Slow. There’s so much here.” He looked over the dozens of photos that lay around him on the floor. “She’s been busy.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Right now? I’ve got to get this mess put together. Then, I’ve gotta start digging up the old articles and logging them, and then…I don’t know. I’ll probably do a lot of mad-dogging.”

“Stare the clues out?”

He shrugged. “It works. Things usually fall into place.”

Tori looked over the photos, pausing to touch a picture of a girl wrapped in plastic. “I don’t envy your job.”

“Yeah, well, being an accountant isn’t exactly my cup of tea either.”

“Don’t be jealous because I’m good at math.”

“Oh, I’m not.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “Yep. It’s gonna be a long couple of days. Sure you don’t want to help?”

“I don’t have the stomach for crime photos. You’re on your own, son.” She gave him a slap on the shoulder and stood. “Need anything?”

“An extra set of hands and a few more hours in the day couldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She laughed as she closed his door, leaving him with his thoughts, leaving him in silence.

So he turned on Willie Nelson, who sang about the girl who was always on his mind, and Jon got to work, comforted in the fact that, if nothing else, Willie knew how he felt.

The fog hung heavy outside Dita’s windows that afternoon, gray and dense. She watched it slowly roll by from where she lay molded into her mattress, nestled in her bedding.

She had stayed with Heff all night, too afraid to be alone. He’d brought her tea and a ham sandwich, which she’d inhaled, and they’d talked until the sun was up. She’d told him about her horrible dreams, and they’d talked about Adonis and Ares. Or she’d talked, and he’d listened and nodded, occasionally offering his thoughts. He hadn’t been happy that she’d held out on coming to him and had made her promise not to hesitate again.

They’d also talked about Perry.

As much as it had hurt for her to destroy the mirror and as much as everything Perry had said cut through her, Perry was right, and Dita needed to tell her so. It wasn’t an easy realization, but she’d come to the understanding all the same, thanks to Heff’s words and his warmth and his honesty.

She’d stayed up talking with him until he’d yawned so hard, his eyes watered. And then she’d said goodbye, slipping into her bed for a few hours, though sleep never found her. Instead, she’d listed all the things she needed to say to her friend.

Dita glanced over her shoulder to look at her clock, deciding it was time. She peeled herself out of bed, shuffled to the elevator, and pushed B4.

The doors opened up to the black marble hallway of the underworld, and she stepped out just as Perry appeared at the other end of the foyer.

“Hey,” Dita said lamely, her voice echoing against the polished stone.

Perry’s hazel eyes softened, and she gave Dita a small smile. “Hey. Come on in.”

Dita made her way through the foyer, her eyes lingering on the painting of Elysium. Adonis was somewhere in there. Desperation slipped over her as she scanned the painting for him. But she caught herself, biting her lip as she walked past, hugging the far wall to put as much distance as she could between her and the painting.

“Perry,” Dita said as she approached, “I…”

She found that she had no words, no way to explain, except for one.

“I’m sorry.” The words were rough; they burned her throat and stung her eyes.

Perry stepped toward her, reaching for her. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have destroyed the mirror, not like that. It was cruel. I should have let you have a say, but Dita…” Perry shook her head, her eyes big and sad. “You should have seen yourself. I was afraid for you, but that’s no excuse.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said about you not caring, and I shouldn’t have lied to you about the mirror. I shouldn’t have hidden, but I knew it was wrong. I knew you’d tell me to stop, that you’d take it away, and I couldn’t…I didn’t…”

“Stop. It’s okay. You weren’t the only one who said things they need to apologize for. I was rash, and you were hysterical. I should have waited until you calmed down to talk about it, but I was so fucking upset. You would have been shocked at your behavior, if you’d realized what you were doing, and honestly, I just couldn’t find enough patience to let that version of you go on a second longer.”

“I know. But I’m not gonna lie and say I’m okay.”

“Honey, I’m sorry.” Perry wrapped her arms around Dita.

She sighed, hooking her chin on Perry’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I know getting rid of it was the right thing to do.”

Perry pulled away and gave her a once-over. “You really do look terrible.”

Dita snorted a laugh. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. And you smell like you got hit by a bus full of Gouda cheese and gym socks.”

“Pretty sure Cockston Von Schmegma was driving.” Dita took a deep breath. “He cornered me last night.”

“What?” Perry gasped, more than a little uneasy. “Come here and sit.”

Once they were seated in the living room, Perry turned to her, face tight. “What did Ares say?”

“I don’t know anyone by that name. I do, however, know a Weiner Von Dicktrap.”

Perry’s face relaxed into a smile. “So, what did Dingus Frittercock want?”

Dita rubbed her eyes and fought to keep them open, resting her head against the back of the couch. “He wanted to talk.”

“He is such a dumb shit.”

“He wants what he wants, and he won’t take no for an answer. In fact, I’m pretty sure that he invented the phrase no means yes.”

Perry chuckled, but the sound wasn’t all that amused.

“He just…I don’t know. I was starving and he walked into the kitchen and I freaked out.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dita shrugged. “We’d just been in a huge fight.”

“I know, but you know that wouldn’t have mattered,” she chided.

“Still, I couldn’t bring myself to bother you. I somehow ended up in Heff’s apartment.”

“Like, not on purpose?”

“No, not on purpose, but I’m glad my brain took me there even if it wasn’t communicating with the rest of me.”

“I’m glad too. And I’m glad you came to talk to me today.”

“Same. Plus, it’s one less thing to worry about, which is nice since I haven’t slept in days, I was cornered by my ex who tried to kill me, and I’m basically out of the loop on the competition. My brain is functioning at, like, ten percent power. Although I did get Jon and Josie within a few feet of each other today.”

“I saw that. It was almost a lucky break. I hate to say you’re off your game, but you’re off your game. Using the same trick twice in one competition?” Perry jokingly tsked and folded her arms. “You’re better than that, Dita.”

“I’m lucky to even be functioning at this point, so can I get a pass?”

“I guess—this time.” Perry sat back. “I saw Jon and Josie’s fight last night too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Dita groaned. “At least he has some info on Rhodes now even though he committed a felony to get it.”

“He was awfully charming this morning. I thought he was going to kiss her for a second.”

Dita propped her feet on the coffee table. “Yeah, I don’t know how Josie would have taken that.”

“Yeah, me neither. Has Artemis even made any plays in the game?”

“Nothing I’ve seen. She’s still ahead at this point. Jon breaking into her house crossed the line. Josie was already annoyed with him, but that was beyond. It’s going to take her a minute to get over that.”

“Who knows? Maybe he’ll figure something out. You could always give Jon a clue.”

Dita sighed. “I don’t know what though. I’m too tired to think, let alone compose a master plan.”

Perry looked her over. “I’m worried about you.”

Dita rolled her head to look at Perry. “Aw, I’m touched, friend. I love you, too.”

“Don’t joke. I’m serious.”

“I know,” Dita said as she looked away again. “I’m worried about me, too. I’ve got to get some real sleep, just a couple of measly REM cycles instead of just dozing off. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares come, and I wake up feeling worse than I did before. If things don’t change, I’m going to lose, which means Jon and Josie will lose.”

“We’ll figure something out.” Perry pulled a black cashmere throw off the back of the couch and laid it on her legs. “Tell me about some of your dreams.”

Dita shifted, bringing her knees up as she turned to face Perry, the leather squeaking when she hugged her calves. “In one, I’m with Adonis. We’re in Elysium, and I say something that makes him laugh, but then he can’t stop laughing, just laughs until he’s hysterical. And then…he starts to scream, falling to his knees as snakes crawl out of his mouth and eyes.” She shuddered and squeezed her legs tighter.

“In another, Ares and I are in old Greece. He kisses me, tender at first, but when I open my eyes, he’s in wrath, his eyes red, his hands around my neck. I can always feel his fingers when I wake. I can feel the bones in my throat like they’re being crushed, and I can’t breathe.” She blinked back her tears. “I don’t know what to do, Perry. I don’t know how to move forward.”

Perry bit her lip.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“Are you kidding me? I can barely see straight, I’m so exhausted. I’m sure I’ll hate it, but lay it on me. I’m desperate.”

Perry looked at her for a minute before answering, “You’ve got to talk to Ares.”

“You were right.” Dita groaned and picked up a pillow, pressing it to her face to yell, “Do not want,” into it.

“I know, but think about it. You think you know how you feel, but there’s so much more to it. You need some sort of closure, and sitting here, avoiding it, isn’t doing you any favors. This is not the way you work. You care about Ares whether you want to or not, and you always will. So, you’ve got to find a way to come to terms with that and let it go. You have to figure out how to handle the fact that he will always be in your life. You can’t run away or hide from him. You have to face him.”

She dropped the pillow to her lap with a huff. “Why are you so smart? I hate you.”

“You love me, and I’m right.”

“No,” Dita said as she sank deeper into the cushions, “I’m pretty sure I hate you.”

Perry leaned on the back of the couch and propped her head on her hand. “While you’re feeling introspective, can we finally talk about Adonis?”

Dita flinched. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to play Dr. Persephone if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s all right.” A heavy sigh left her before she took a moment to think about him, really think about him. “I miss him,” she finally said.

“I know,” Perry said softly.

“I’ve been so lonely. He was always there, every day for thousands of years, and I told him everything, shared everything with him. I spent almost as much time in Elysium as I did living my life here. He’s just…he was always there, and now, he’s gone.” She took a breath to steady herself. “He’s gone, and I can’t change that. There’s nothing I can do but mourn.”

“How do you feel about how he left you?”

“I don’t know.” Dita looked up at the ceiling, trying to stave off her tears. “Responsible. The whole thing was my fault. It’s like I killed him a second time.”

“I know it feels that way, Dita, but he chose to drink Lethe.”

“Because I left him.”

“Listen, I love him too. He was the closest thing to a son that I’d ever had. I raised him from a baby, tucked him in at night, and watched him grow, but he was spoiled and selfish. Maybe that was my fault.”

“He wasn’t easy to tell no.”

“No, he wasn’t. And if he hadn’t been so…well, Adonis, you wouldn’t have left him. He’s just as much to blame as you.”

“It doesn’t feel like that,” Dita said.

“But you get me?”

“I get you.”

Perry nodded. “So that leaves Ares.”

Dita glanced at her. “I’m sorry, who?”

She thought for a second. “Taintston McPubus.”

Dita looked back up at the ceiling crisscrossed with black beams. “I mean, what the fuck, Perry? I can’t even be in the same room as him without almost having a heart attack.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Dita frowned. “Besides the obvious physical threat?”

“Do you really think he’s going to hurt you again?”

Dita traced the beams with her eyes from wall to wall. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll tell you that I don’t think he will.” Perry was matter-of-fact, and Dita found a small bit of comfort in her certainty. “Zeus will bury him. Literally. In Tartarus. You know Zeus doesn’t make idle threats.”

“That makes perfect logical sense, but it doesn’t stop me from being afraid.”

“I know. Just remind yourself that he’s not an idiot.”

“Ha.”

“I mean, he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t have a death wish.” She paused, watching Dita, who didn’t want to make eye contact. “What do you think he could possibly say to you?” Perry asked. “What could he say to change your mind?”

“If he apologized and meant it. If I knew that he really understood.”

“Do you think he’s capable of that?”

Dita didn’t even have to think about it. “No, I don’t.”

“What else are you afraid of?”

She sat up and turned to face Perry. “Do you really think he’s ever going to let me go?”

Perry let out a resigned sigh. “No.”

“So, how do I deal with that?” Dita remembered those moments when he was soft and open, when she’d truly believed he loved her, and she felt the pull to him again, even at the memory. It made her feel sick. “I’m afraid to hear what he has to say, Perry. What if…”

“What if you change your mind about him?”

Dita nodded. “What if I can’t stop myself?”

“Do you really feel like you could ever be with him again?” Perry asked.

“Right now, I don’t. I did my best to break the bond, but it’s stronger than me. It’s hard to explain what it’s like when we’re together.”

Perry looked at her like she was a dummy. “You forget that I’m married to the man who kidnapped and raped me. Trust me, I get it.”

And she knew Perry did, probably better than anyone. “I loved him. I trusted him. He has seen me at my most vulnerable. And he turned on me. He betrayed me. And if he could have killed me, he would have.”

Perry let her breathe, let her think, let her speak.

“Our bond is beyond my control. We’re connected, but I don’t want to be connected to him. I don’t want him to have power over me. But he does. He always will. And I have no control over my life.”

Her eyes were sad, but her voice was determined. “You can’t control him, but you can control you. The only power he has over you is your fear.”

“And I’m just supposed to stop being afraid?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“I seriously can’t even fathom how to do that.” Dita looked away.

“Sleep would help.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Maybe Heff could make you some god mace.”

Dita laughed at the thought. “That would be so convenient, but it would only work on Filmore Dickerson if it had egocide in it.”

Perry giggled. “Feel any better?”

“A little,” Dita admitted.

The silence stretched out.

“It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

“I want to believe that.”

Perry reached for her hand, and they wound their fingers together. “It will. You’ll get through it, and I’ll be here beside you. Okay?”

Tears welled up in Dita’s eyes. “Can we not fight again?”

“Deal. Can you please not lie to me again?”

“Deal,” Dita agreed and squeezed her hand.

Artemis ducked under a branch as Calix cut around a tree.

She braced herself as he bounded over a log and bolted out of the tree line, the sun hitting her like a wall. Hills rolled around her in lazy swells, carpeted in green grass, with cypress trees lining the ridges, stretching up to the sky like spears. The rhythm of Calix’s body under her as he galloped across the open field comforted her, a natural metronome to her thoughts.

The moment Jon and Josie had parted ways, Artemis had taken off with Calix and had been riding ever since.

Jon was persistent, so persistent that Artemis was losing faith that Josie would stand her ground. If he continued making declarations as he had, Josie wouldn’t last long. Artemis could sense her losing her resolve.

The feeling left Artemis uneasy.

Josie was still angry, of course, but not angry enough. And, now that Jon had information on Rhodes, he really could help her.

But Jon had to be stopped. If Josie agreed and the players ended up working together, the result would be a disaster for Artemis.

Artemis dug in her heels, shouting H’ya! through her teeth.

If she lost so early in the competition, she would never, ever live it down.

As much as she didn’t want to believe that Josie could ever forgive Jon, each day that had passed only proved one glaring, unavoidable truth—Jon would move mountains for her. He knew he was wrong and had been trying to do right by her, pay penance. Artemis had been so focused on Josie that she found she didn’t know Jon at all, and the more she learned, the sicker she felt.

He wasn’t the villain she’d thought him to be.

Worse, she’d played right into Aphrodite’s hand.

Calix reached the river, and they turned to run up the bank as she heard the voices of Apollo and Eleni in her mind, telling her how little she knew.

Was she truly so oblivious to human nature? Had she removed herself so far from Earth and for so long that she had forgotten?

Had she ever really known?

She leaned back. “Whoa. Whoa there.”

Calix slowed to a trot and stopped under an olive tree whose branches stretched out over the river. She dismounted and ran her hand down his neck as he drank.

Artemis sensed a shift coming, and there was only one thing to do, only one play to make.

Her only chance was to get Josie away from Jon. If she sent Rhodes on the run, Josie would chase him, and Artemis could guide her, help her find him. Help heal the wound by bringing justice to Anne, Hannah, and all the girls he’d killed. She could do all of that and keep Jon and Josie apart. And if she could keep them apart, she would win.

Human nature.

She had to consider Jon and how he would react. He would try to help, want to help. But as long as Josie believed she had things handled, she wouldn’t accept his offer.

Artemis looked in on Josie as she lay on her couch, staring a hole through her wall of evidence and the avalanche of paper and photos and facts that her life had become.

“Now,” she whispered.

Josie popped another Cheez-It into her mouth with Ricochet on her stomach as she stared at the wall like she had a hundred times before, scrutinizing the papers and photos, looking for anything new. The thought that there was anything she’d missed was ridiculous in itself. She had memorized every word and image, and the pictures lived in her dreams.

But what else could she do? Until she had more, like an ID from one of the girls or a slipup by Rhodes, she was at a dead stop.

Out of nowhere, Ricochet took off. His claws dug into the soft skin of her stomach as he leapt onto the coffee table and toward her bedroom, toppling a glass of water that smashed as it hit the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck, Rick? Jesus.” Josie stepped around the glass with her eyes on the carpet and made her way into the kitchen where she grabbed a towel and the trash can.

Ricochet growled and mewled at the window in her bedroom.

“What is the matter with you?” She entered her room and set her things down next to the window, leaning forward to look out the window at the fire escape. “There’s nothing there, buddy.”

He arched his back and rubbed the window, growling again.

“You want out?”

She slid open the horizontal window, and he jetted out as soon as there was enough space for him to fit through. She stuck her head out, shaking it as he paraded up the stairs and sat on the platform above, looking down at her through the small holes in the metal.

Josie looked down as she backed out of the window frame, and her heart stopped for a split second when she saw the smallest sliver of silver chain in the window track, hanging out from under the pane.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

Her fingers touched the chain, and she knew even just by that small bit of metal that it was Anne’s.

Rhodes had taken it after he killed her, but she never thought, never could have guessed, that it hadn’t made it out of their apartment. That window had been opened and closed a hundred times since then, inspected by the police and by her, and she wondered how in the hell it had stayed hidden for so long.

She trotted into her living room and to her desk where she found a pair of latex gloves, put them on, and grabbed her phone, snapping a few pictures when she reached the window again. Her blood rushed in her ears as she tugged at the chain, attempting to work it out from the track. He must have dropped it when he climbed out the window, and when he’d closed it, it had hooked on something that dragged it back, something it was still hung on. She wiggled the chain with shaking hands, trying to be gentle when all she wanted to do was smash the window and rip the frame apart to get to it.

She tugged the necklace and slid the window back and forth on the track until more slack let out, exposing the clasp, which she opened with trembling hands. Once opened, she threaded the necklace out of the rail and laid it in her palm. The silver pendant with the small bird stamped on it caught the light.

Josie could barely breathe as she picked her phone to snap a few more pictures before she called her dad.

“Hey, Jo.”

“Dad…” Her voice quaked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…I found Anne’s necklace in the window track.”

He was silent.

She couldn’t stop staring at the necklace in her hand, deciding right then that she would dust it. She wanted the print but didn’t want her father to risk getting caught giving her a copy. If she got it on her own, she could find something to compare it to. She just couldn’t tell Hank. Plausible deniability.

Hank cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m going to send Walker and Davis with a CSI. You want me there?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Just call me if you change your mind. I’ll have them there within the half hour.”

“All right, Dad.”

Josie didn’t look at her phone as she set it down. She walked to her desk and pulled open the drawer where she kept her lift tape and dusting kit.

All four of the Campbell kids had been educated on lifting prints, which had driven their mother crazy. Sunday afternoons usually meant everything was covered in powder and that all the Scotch tape was gone.

Once she got the baby powder, she took a seat at her desk, her breath shallow and hands cold. Josie dumped out a small amount of powder onto a sheet of paper and dipped her brush into the pile, tapping it on her hand to knock off the excess. She picked up the pendant and dusted it, and when she held it up to the light, she saw it.

Josie had his fingerprint.

Her hands were steadier than her stomach as she laid the necklace down and trimmed off a piece of tape to cover the pendant. She pulled it off slowly and stuck it to a black piece of paper before dusting the back of the pendant, though she found nothing there.

When Josie put away her supplies, burying her trash under other garbage, all that was left was to get rid of the powder from the necklace with the help of a pressurized air can. She could still see the swirling print on the metal, faint and glimmering.

Josie held up the small black paper with the print, the answer to the question that had plagued her every waking moment for half a year. She had him. The man who had haunted her nightmares and killed her best friend. Who had raped and murdered dozens of innocent women.

The paper she held reverently in her hand contained the power to finally put him away.

DAY 6

IT WAS EARLY THAT morning, but Josie didn’t care. She’d been sitting there in her car for an hour, watching the digital clock on her dash like she could will it to move faster as she waited for Rhodes to leave for work.

Her heart skipped a beat when he stepped out his front door. He looked just like anyone else, walking the sidewalk to the bus stop where he’d catch his ride into Manhattan, go to his regular job with people who thought he was a regular guy. They probably figured his pastimes were things like drinking beer and playing golf, not strangling young girls and dumping them into the river.

Her father had called her the night before with news that the print had been processed, and when she’d told him she lifted one of her own, he’d said he already knew. Josie had run her plan by him, and he’d agreed to it, knowing he couldn’t stop her anyway and knowing his hands were tied. They had nothing, not even probable cause.

So, she would go to Rhodes’s house and find a little trash to lift prints from for comparison. If it was on the curb, it was public property. The proof would be enough to convince her father to call Rhodes in as a suspect in the hopes that they could get official prints.

Josie watched the clock until the bus she knew he took was sure to be gone, waiting another twenty agonizing minutes just in case, before grabbing rubber gloves and freezer bags from her passenger seat. She walked around to the side of his house and through the gate where his trash cans stood behind the tall fence.

The neighborhood was quiet, but her heart was a jackhammer, thundering in her ears as she closed the gate behind her.

Josie flipped back the lid to his recycling, digging past cereal and frozen dinner boxes until she found two glass jars and several soda cans. She deposited them into the freezer bags and closed the trash can lid before heading back to her car, glancing around with the loot in her arms, feeling like she’d just stolen the crown jewels.

She raced home with the stolen trash a presence in the car, her thoughts wholly focused on each step to come, afraid of what she would or wouldn’t find, so anxious, she could barely pay attention to drive. When she finally made it into her apartment, she moved with certainty and purpose, unpacking each bag on her bar, lining the containers up neatly on the surface. The area was already prepped with paper towels and her fingerprinting kit, and she sat down in front of the trash, dusting each vessel slowly and meticulously, assessing and noting them as she went.

The jars initially held the most hope with partials on the lids and labels where they had been held while he poured out the contents. Two of the soda cans had a mess of fingerprints, too many to make any sense of. But she found the answer on the final can. There were two solid sets of prints—one with placement from holding the can while it had been opened, the other from pouring it.

Anne’s necklace had a clear, full print so clean that she knew he’d intentionally touched it. There were no prints in the entire apartment with the exception of that necklace, and Josie could only assume that he’d worn gloves. If he had been wearing gloves, then he’d touched her necklace on purpose, which meant the prints were likely from an index finger or thumb.

Discerning which print was which on the can was fairly simple, and she lifted each with precision and care, marking which digit was which based on their locations. Her hands trembled as she laid the prints in her scanner and took a seat at her desk, bouncing her knee as she waited on the machine to warm up, her breath shallow as they pulled up on the screen. She opened them in Photoshop, adjusted the contrast, zoomed in tight, and began the painstaking process of comparing.

Josie started with what she determined to be the thumbprint of his right hand, figuring that would be the most probable match, the most natural way to touch the necklace. Once she located the center swirl, she turned the print from the can so it was the same direction as the one from Anne’s necklace. Starting at the center point, she followed the ring around and out, her pulse beating faster with each match she found.

It was him.

Her hands were numb and cold as she dug out her phone, her fingers trembling as she called her father’s cell.

“Josie. Did you get it?”

She took a breath, her mouth so dry, her lips stuck together. “It’s him.”

Hank sucked in a breath in her ear. “Okay.” He paused. “All right.” Another pause. “What happened?”

“Waited until he left, dug through his recycling. No one saw.” She took a breath and looked at her computer screen in disbelief and relief and fear that he’d somehow slip away. “Dad, he did it. I’ve got proof right here.”

“Is the trash admissible?”

“No. It was in his backyard.”

“Damn. Don’t worry about it, okay? We’re not gonna let him go.”

“I’ll call in the tip when we hang up.”

“All right. As soon as we get the call, I’ll send Walker and Davis to pick him up at work. Come down to the station. I’ll get you into the observation room while we interrogate him.”

“Okay.” Josie could barely comprehend what was happening, but it was happening whether she understood it or not.

“You okay?”

“I really don’t know, Dad. I think I’m in shock. Sometimes I wake up and don’t believe any of it’s real, like I made up the whole thing. Like I fabricated the connections to him just so I had someone to blame. So to be looking at concrete evidence is as reassuring as it is terrifying.”

“I know that feeling. Hurry down here, okay?”

“All right. I’ll see you.”

She hung up and sat back in her chair, composing the call to the anonymous tip line in her mind as she stared at his fingerprints on her monitor. They’d finally caught him.

This is it.

Rhodes waited quietly in the cold, gray interrogation room with his hands in his lap for the detectives to come back. It was a strange feeling—to be picked up at work by cops, to be told they had some questions and that he could come quietly or not. Sitting in that room, he felt like he should be worried, but he wasn’t.

Curiosity trumped all of his emotions.

The door opened, and he looked over his shoulder with a smile at the detectives who walked in with coffee. The one called Davis, he thought, sat across from him and offered a white foam cup while the other, Walker, laid a folder on the table and leaned on the wall behind his partner with his arms folded across his chest.

“Thought you might like a cup of coffee, Mr. Rhodes,” Davis said.

He was in his early forties, if Rhodes had to guess, with blond hair and blue eyes. His sleeves were rolled to three-quarters, and he wore a tie but no coat. He looked casual and friendly.

The good cop.

Walker scowled at him from against the wall. His shaved head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and his sleeves were also rolled up, but his forearms were covered in tattoos.

Definitely the bad cop.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Rhodes didn’t move his hands from where they laid threaded in his lap.

“It’s fresh. Just made it.”

“Can I ask again what this is about?”

Davis took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Sure, sure.”

He flipped the folder open, and inside lay a photo of Hannah. Her hair was so blond, her uniform so red, her smile so bright in what looked to be her yearbook photo.

Rhodes made a sympathetic face, his tone full of compassion. “Oh, I remember when that girl went missing a few months ago. I told you guys everything I knew then, which wasn’t much, I’m afraid.”

“Right, we have your statement here.” Davis handed Rhodes the sheet with his statement on it, and the photo underneath almost broke his facade.

It was another photo of Hannah, but she was almost unrecognizable. Her skin looked like stretched leather, her hair like brass instead of corn silk. The plastic that he’d wrapped her in was pulled back so the photographer could get a shot of her face.

Rhodes didn’t miss a beat. “Whoa, is that what happened to her?”

“Oh, sorry,” Davis said with nonchalance. “I forgot that was there.” He shuffled the papers around, flipping through photographs of different women, ghosts of Rhodes’s conquests.

Rhodes shook his head, his outward appearance and voice innocent even though he could barely hear over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. “Did the same guy kill all of them?” he asked.

“We think so, yes.” Davis reached under the stack and pulled out a baggie, laying it in front of Rhodes unceremoniously.

Rhodes’s hands clenched in his lap along with every muscle in his abdomen.

Anne’s necklace lay inside, the small bird stamped onto the silver disc staring at him through the plastic. Everything came back to him in a rush. He could see her lying on the ground in front of him, could feel her pulse in his fingers.

He kept his face smooth, only showing an air of mild curiosity. “What’s that?”

“Have you ever seen this before?” Davis’s body language and tone were relaxed, but his eyes probed Rhodes.

Cat and mouse.

“I’m sorry. I can’t say that I have.”

Davis nodded. “We found it today in the window track of an apartment nearby. A girl was strangled to death and raped there on the night we found Hannah’s body. She was an investigator who had been looking into Hannah’s disappearance.”

“Wow. Do you think the same guy killed her too?”

“It’d make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess it would. But I still don’t quite understand what exactly this has to do with me.”

Davis’s cool eyes didn’t leave Rhodes’s face. “We received an anonymous tip today that said you were involved in not only the murders of Anne Martin and Hannah Mills, but a number of prostitutes as well as a girl from your hometown, Jane Bernard. We take calls like that seriously, but those are some pretty wild accusations, wouldn’t you say?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “That’s crazy.”

“I know, right?” Davis said, his tone disbelieving. “Do you know of anyone who would want to defame you? There’s no accounting for crazy people. Maybe one of them called in the tip?”

“Gosh, not off the top of my head.”

“Would you mind giving us a DNA sample and your fingerprints? You know, just to rule yourself out.”

Rhodes laughed wholeheartedly at that one. “Yes, I would mind actually. Am I being charged with anything?”

Davis’s jovial face hardened a touch. “No, no, nothing like that. We just thought that, if you cooperated, we could clear up this whole misunderstanding right now.”

“Do I need to call my lawyer?”

“Well, now, that really is up to you. Let me give you a few to consider it.” Davis stood and jerked his chin at his partner, who pushed away from the wall and walked toward the door, his eyes on Rhodes the whole time.

Rhodes sat back in his seat. The detective had left everything there—the photos haphazardly spread out enough that it looked accidental, the necklace lying on the table in front of him.

The necklace.

His fingers twitched. He was so close. All he had to do was reach out and touch it. Time seemed to stop as the smell of coffee and the old, metallic scent of the station filled his nose, the distant sound of phones ringing and the whir of air conditioning in his ears. He memorized everything before breaking his gaze and pulling out his phone to play Candy Crush, as if none of it fazed him, though his mind and body hummed with such static, he was surprised his hair wasn’t standing on end.

But he would never let them know.

Josie watched Rhodes play on his phone with her face stone cold and her hands clasped behind her back. Hank stood next to her silently, and when Walker and Davis came in, they all stood there, watching Rhodes through the one-way glass.

“He’s about to lawyer up,” Davis said.

Hank nodded. “He’s not going to give anything up, and until we can find something to bring him in on, he’s going to walk free.” He turned to Josie. “I don’t have enough to go on to justify sending a patrol to Weehawken to watch him.”

Josie stared through the glass at Rhodes, who looked like he could have been waiting in line at the DMV instead of sitting in an interrogation room. She didn’t need to rely on the cops. She could watch him herself.

“Josephine,” her father said, the warning clear, “you listen to me right now. Look at me.”

She met his eyes.

“You have got to stay out of this. He knows we’re on to him. Without a partner, you are too exposed, too vulnerable. I need you to promise me you won’t follow him.”

“But, Dad—”

“Promise me.”

“He’s going to run.”

“I’ll send a patrol to drive by his place later, and Walker and Davis will go by in the morning to see if they can get into his house. That’s the best I can do, and I need you to swear to me you won’t get involved.”

She stood there in the cold room with her father’s eyes on her, not sure how she could agree to his request.

Rhodes hadn’t even flinched when Davis put the necklace on the table, but she had seen a flicker under the surface of his facade, a flash of anger. She hoped it drove him crazy to see it with the knowledge that he would never touch it again.

Everything in the room had been wiped in anticipation of his arrival in the hopes that he would touch something they could dust, but there would be nothing to find. He hadn’t touched a single thing—not the cup, not the table or chair. They’d eventually nail him, find a way to get a comparison print, and then it would be over. But if he even had an inkling that they had his print, he would run, and it would be over in an entirely different way.

Could she leave Rhodes alone and let her father handle it? Could she lie to him, make him a promise she wouldn’t keep?

She knew good and well that both answers were no.

“You have to send a patrol to tail him, Dad. He knows it’s only a matter of time, and he will run. I feel it. I know it. If you want me to stay away, you’ve got to send a patrol. It’s the only way I’ll agree.”

Hank looked back at Rhodes and ran a hand over his mouth, silently watching through the glass for a long minute before he spoke again. “Do you realize the hell I’m going to get for putting my resources into this with just an anonymous tip to go off of?”

“But you know he did it.”

He sighed. “I do.”

“Then none of this will matter because we’ll catch him.”

Dita’s fingers rested on her lips as she watched Rhodes walk out of the police station with his lawyer.

“He’s going to run,” she said to no one in particular.

Perry sat in the seat next to her with her mouth open, and Heff leaned forward in an armchair with his elbows on his knees. Apollo’s head shook slowly from the other armchair, and all four of them were silent for a long moment.

Perry spoke up, and her voice was low. “After all this time, for Josie to find the necklace…this can’t be a coincidence.”

Dita turned to her, shocked. “You don’t think Artemis did this, do you?”

“Who else?”

“Why? Why would she do it?”

“I think I know.” Apollo ran a hand through his hair. “The last time I saw her, she said something about getting Josie away from Jon. If Rhodes runs…”

“Josie will chase him. Fuck.” Dita’s mind spun, flustered and out of control, her voice frantic and climbing. “What the fuck? My only shot is for Jon to help her, but how the shit am I supposed to get her to agree to that? I’m not convinced she would put him out if he was on fire.” She looked around the room and threw a hand in the air. “Why would Artemis put them in danger like this? She is so careless with them. Does she even care?”

“She cares, but she doesn’t understand what she’s doing. She’s looking at a postage stamp while we can see the panorama,” Apollo answered.

Dita stood up, livid as she wove around the chairs and coffee table and made for the elevator.

Perry looked mildly distressed. “Dita, you are not allowed to go down there.”

She didn’t stop walking. “Why the fuck not? I have words for her.”

“Hang on,” Apollo called.

Dita stopped in the foyer, furious and ready to fight. “Why?”

Apollo stood and walked over to her, his blue eyes comforting. “Just…look, just ride it out. Maybe Josie won’t leave, or maybe something will happen that you can work to your advantage. What good will confronting Artemis do?”

“It would make me feel a whole lot better to kick her in the teeth.” She pictured herself roundhousing Artemis in the face, and it really did bring a little comfort.

He chuckled. “I’m sure, but it still won’t solve anything.”

“He’s right, Dita.” Heff turned to face her. “You can’t undo any of it, so you’re gonna have to find a way to roll with it. For now at least. Maybe Rhodes will stay in town. We have no idea what’s going to happen.”

“But that’s not the point.” Dita put one hand on her hip, gesturing dramatically with the other one as she ranted. “She is knowingly putting both players in danger when we’re supposed to keep them safe. I’d expect this from Ares, but Artemis?” She shook her head. “I didn’t agree to this.”

Apollo slipped his hands in his pockets. “She doesn’t see it like the rest of us. She thinks Josie’s got everything under control, that Josie’s as invincible as she is. Just give it a little bit of time. Is there an expiration date on bitching her out?”

“No, my rage will keep.” Dita sucked in a breath through her nose. “I’m so, so mad. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t slept in eleventy billion years, but I’m pretty sure I would fuck her up in a serious way right now.”

She wondered if she could somehow turn Artemis’s move around and found consolation in the potential. The look on Artemis’s face when Dita played her would be even better than the sight of her bloody grill.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll leave her alone. For now.”

Everyone relaxed a hair, but Dita was so wound up, she couldn’t stand it. It was like every molecule in her body was trying to fight its way out.

“I think I need to punch something.”

Heff stood with a smirk. “It would probably make you feel better.”

He made his way around the furniture and into the foyer, stopping in front of her. For some reason, she sometimes forgot how tall he was, and when he flexed his torso, her eyes followed the lines and shadows his forearms and biceps made. She could see his pecs under his T-shirt and chased a fleeting thought about pulling up the hem to get a good look at his abs.

When she realized her mouth was slightly agape, she closed it and pursed her lips.

“Go ahead. Take your best shot,” he said.

“You sure? I mean, I don’t want to hurt you,” she joked.

He laughed, his teeth flashing white and bright against his dark beard. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You asked for it.” She felt her face screw up as she wound up and nailed him in the stomach, which was rock solid.

He didn’t even flinch.

She smiled as she shook out her fingers. “My hand hurts, but I feel better.”

“This is why men fight when they’re mad. Go on, knock yourself out. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

Dita took a deep breath, feeling her anger wind around every muscle in her body, and she let it go, let it all out like steam off boiling water. She pictured Ares as she threw all of her weight behind her fist, wishing she could hurt Ares in the ways he’d hurt her—with betrayal and her bare hands. She thought about Adonis, and her grief and guilt washed over her in a wave. She’d killed him with her choices, by her words.

She didn’t realize that she wasn’t as mad at Artemis as she’d thought, not until tears blurred her vision and wet her cheeks, not until her fists no longer flew but clutched Heff’s shirt as she lay in his arms on the floor.

Ares hung an arm on the back of his couch, looking in on Rhodes, who moved through his house with intention as he packed a large duffel bag. He trotted down the stairs of his basement and to his crawl space where he retrieved his jewelry box. Then, he knelt down to lay it inside his bag. Everything he owned was secondary to that box.

Rhodes was implementing his contingency plan and would be long gone before anyone came looking for him. Ares didn’t know what was going on in the game, but he suspected that someone had interfered. He wondered briefly how it would all end, if there would be blood. It could end that way if Josie chased him.

Rhodes wouldn’t go quietly.

Ares didn’t know how the game would be affected, but Dita would adapt. She always did.

He pictured her face as he’d seen her last, saw the dark circles under her wild, fearful eyes and her lip pulled back, baring her teeth. He hadn’t even known what he wanted to say to her. That he was sorry he’d hurt her. That he loved her and wanted her. Wanted her to forgive him. To let him fix it. To prove it. But he wasn’t sure she would believe him, and he didn’t blame her.

He didn’t even know if it was true.

All he knew was that he wanted her. He’d tell her anything she wanted to hear if it brought her back. They belonged together, and they would be together again. It wasn’t a matter of if, only when.

She needed time and space, but he would find a way to edge back into her life as he always did. He would have to work harder than ever to get her back, but once they got through it, there would be nothing left to stand in his way.

Ares thought about how to classify his feelings. He couldn’t call it guilt. He was mad, that was certain, but more over the fact that everything had fallen apart. He felt no remorse for killing Adonis. In fact, the memory still brought him satisfaction. And he didn’t feel bad for lying because it had been his only shot at ridding himself of the human.. But if she hadn’t found out, he would have her still, and that fact made his blood boil.

Rhodes was in his office, flipping through his file cabinet in his desk. He pulled out an unlabeled folder, laid it open on his desk, and thumbed through the contents—a birth certificate, license, a new Social Security card. He’d gotten them just after he killed Anne, knowing he would need a plan. He’d also purchased an ’80s model Civic with cash from a junkyard, a car that sat in his garage, gassed and ready to take him away. He had enough cash to get him to Seattle where the dead man whose identity he’d stolen was from.

Rhodes glanced out his office window and watched the patrol car a few houses down in the alley, wondering how he would get away. He could watch them, wait. He could be patient. The opportunity would—

The patrol car started up, and he stared in shock as it rolled away. He didn’t question them leaving or consider why he smelled spring grass and sunshine and pine, just picked up his papers, packed them in his bag, and zipped it up with finality before he stood and left his home with no fanfare for the last time.

Ares smiled. It had been Artemis, and he mourned not being able to tell Dita what he knew. It would be the perfect, noble way to find his way back to her favor, but it was impossible. He couldn’t get anywhere near her.

As soon as he got the chance, he would try to talk to her again without pushing so hard. He’d need to grovel and beg if he was going to make it convincing—two behaviors that he wasn’t familiar with. But if she got mad, yelled…he couldn’t guarantee that his emotions would stay in check.

She was a burning match, and he was gasoline, and when one touched the other, everything would be devoured until all that was left was ash.

Artemis traced her lips with her fingers as she watched from her tent, elbows resting on the polished table—a slice of a massive tree with hundreds of rings.

Josie was still at the station, and Rhodes was driving west through rural New Jersey. Artemis wasn’t entirely sure she had done the right thing. But the necklace had been her only play, her only chance, and if Josie could get a lead on him, she would catch him and either bring him in or kill him.

Either way, Josie would find closure, and Artemis would win alongside her.

Her tent flap opened, and Eleni walked through with a tray of venison, grapes, and wine, her lips flat and her gray wings folded tight behind her.

“Your supper, mistress,” she said stiffly as she set the tray on the table with a clatter.

Artemis glanced at her with narrow eyes. “Have you something to say?”

“No, no.” Her tone was snide and dismissive. “Nothing you wish to hear.”

“Please, I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself, trying to contain it,” Artemis volleyed, infuriated and combative.

Eleni’s cheeks flushed. “Do not tempt me to speak, Artemis. I gave you my allegiance, promised to follow you, even when you are being irresponsible.”

“Have you no faith in me?”

“When it comes to humans? I have much less faith in you than is appropriate for my station.”

Artemis’s temper flared hot and bright. “I know Josie. Do you not believe that I would protect her?”

Eleni blew out a breath and folded her arms. “You know too little of humans to assume as much as you do. I believe you would protect her, yes, but the competition stands in your way. Should she fall into any danger, you could be helpless to interfere. But none of this matters because you have set your plan into motion with no regard for anyone’s perspective but your own.”

The words bit at Artemis’s conscience, and the niggling doubt in the back of her mind grew stronger and stronger with each argument on the matter.

Her wrath writhed under her skin as she stood and took steps toward Eleni, backing her out of the tent and into the center of camp.

“I do not need your blessing, Nephelai. I am Artemis, Goddess of Wilds, Lady of the Moon, The Huntress, The Maiden, Daughter of Zeus, and your mistress.”

The afternoon sky grew dark as midnight, the stars and moon so bright, they were overexposed. Night creatures woke and sang their songs—crickets and owls, frogs that croaked and hopped into the clearing—as fireflies buzzed in streaks against the tree line.

The nymphs shrank back with their eyes on the sky, and Artemis glowed white and cool as the moon.

“I do not need your blessing,” she said to her camp, her voice booming through the trees. “I do not need your permission. And I will hear no more of this.”

Her wrath ebbed as she turned for her tent once again just as Eleni fell to her knees, trembling in the dust. The daylight returned, the moon gone for the time, and all was once again as it should be.

The sky had grown dark outside Jon’s window, that eerie, ominous dimming of light to dark that came on suddenly, as if the sun had been blotted out. Rain clouds tumbled through the sky, and the low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. He leaned against the wall with his front chair legs in the air as he eyed the replica of Josie’s evidence wall across the room with one hand rubbing his chin and the other tapping his pencil on his blue notebook resting on his thigh.

The day before had been spent compiling his own version of her wall, and he’d been up almost all night cataloging everything he’d found. He’d started at the beginning, marking each article, every bit of information, getting all of it into a massive spreadsheet before beginning to scour the internet for the articles and police blotters she’d used to build what she had. He’d printed them all to highlight and note them, and as the case had come together in his mind, it had grown until he made one solitary revelation.

Josie was right.

Try as he might, he found no holes other than the lack of substantial, admissible evidence. Rhodes made perfect sense. If he’d killed Jane, Hannah, and Anne, Jon didn’t doubt for a second that he’d killed the other girls too. It was too specific to be a coincidence, not with that many murders.

The question was, what could he do about it?

Josie had information he didn’t. Not all the facts on the wall were fully legible, and some weren’t visible in the photos he’d taken, covered up by other articles or photos. Not to mention, all the details and connections that only existed in her mind. If she’d been shadowing Rhodes at the level he figured she’d been, she’d know his routine, his habits. She’d know Rhodes, maybe better than anyone.

With all that knowledge, there was no way for Jon to walk away. He had to convince her to let him help and wondered if he could win her over by discovering something she hadn’t seen. Hence the wall-staring through the course of the day.

But he knew it was a long shot.

There was no way Josie had missed anything.

The more he learned, the deeper his concerns rooted. Rhodes was dangerous, and Josie was in deep with no one to watch her back.

Jon’s door opened, and Tori walked in with a sandwich and a beer.

“Hey. Brought you a snack.” She wiggled the plate at him.

His stomach gurgled. He hadn’t realized he was hungry. “Thanks. I’m starvin’.” He leaned forward and put all four chair legs back on the ground as he reached for the offered bottle and plate.

“I figured. You’ve barely left your room.” Tori made her way around his bedroom, flicking on lights. When she clicked on the lamp next to his bed, it lit up the wall, and she sucked in a breath when she saw it. “Holy,” she whispered.

“Yep,” Jon said around a mouthful of sandwich.

“I mean, seriously,” she said as her eyes roamed the wall. “She must have been working on this nonstop since Anne died.”

“If I know her, that’s exactly what she’s been doing.”

Tori stared at the wall in stunned silence while he inhaled the sandwich and took a long pull of the beer. He laid the plate on the ground between his bare feet and rested his elbows on his knees, holding the bottle loose in his hands.

“Have you made any sense of it?” Tori asked after a minute.

Jon nodded. “It wasn’t hard. Josie’s meticulous.” He paused with his eyes on Rhodes’s photo in the center. “I think he did it.”

“Jesus. And you said she’s following him?” Tori turned to look at him.

“She is. She’s been staking out his place and who knows what else. I wouldn’t doubt for a second that she’s been in there at least a handful of times.”

“Why would she do that? If he did all this,” she said, motioning to the wall, which was punctuated by photographs of dead girls, “how the hell is she so sure that he wouldn’t do the same to her?”

“Because she thinks she can outsmart him. She’s got a strong invincibility streak.”

“Damn the two of you.” Tori shook her head. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

“We do, and a strong one at that, but we also believe the rules don’t generally apply to us.”

“Idiots,” she said with another shake of her head as she ran her eyes over the wall again. “I say that with love.” She paused. “You’ve got to help her. She can’t be safe.”

“I know it. I’m trying to find something new, but it’s probably a lost cause. She’s been staring at this wall for half a year, and I didn’t even know it existed until thirty-six hours ago. There has to be some way to convince her to let me help, but it’s not gonna be easy. I’m about the last person in the world she wants to see.”

“Well, you broke into her house. I’d be pissed too.”

“I had a key. Nobody acknowledges the fact that I had a damn key.”

“Because that makes it okay.” Tori rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do if you can’t figure anything new out? What’s your plan B?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You need to go talk to her. Make her listen.”

Jon chuffed. “Nobody makes Josie do anything.”

“Can’t you just try to talk some sense into her?” Tori asked.

“Sure, until things get tough, and she walks away.”

“Sounds familiar,” Tori scoffed. “You definitely have a type.”

“More like a curse.”

“Ha, ha. There’s got to be some way to get her to let you help,” Tori said, almost to herself. She turned to him. “If you could at least get your foot in the door, you could push it open. You’re sneaky like that.”

“I have nothing to bargain with. She doesn’t need me—or doesn’t think she does at least. Why should she tell me anything?”

“You need an angle.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe if I just got her to share information so I could look into it on my own…maybe she would agree to that? Maybe. If I had more information, I could make a little more sense of everything.”

“If nothing else, it might get you back on speaking terms.”

He nodded, relieved at having a plan. “All right. I’ll go to her place tomorrow and see if I can convince her.”

“Good boy.” Tori reached for his plate and gave him a wink as she left.

Jon sat in his room, his eyes on that wall, wondering if there was any way he had a chance and hoping to God he did. Because he couldn’t stand by anymore.

DAY 7

THE COLD AIR FELT glorious against Josie’s sweaty skin as she walked up to her building that morning with hands on her hips and lungs burning from her run. She paced the sidewalk in front of her stairs, trying to catch her breath before she made her way inside, not expecting what she found when she reached her hallway.

Her father was banging on the door, his phone pressed to his ear and his face tight. Hank jumped when he saw her, his worry melting into relief as he pulled her into a hug. “Jesus, Jo. Where have you been?”

“I went for a run, just like every morning. What’s the matter?”

He squeezed her tighter.

“I’m all sweaty, Dad.”

“I don’t care.”

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, not sure what was going on.

After a moment, he pulled back and looked at her. “Let’s go inside.”

“Um…” She panicked.

He hadn’t been over since before Anne died. Hadn’t seen the crime shrine.

He shook his head, and something in his body language set off alarms. “The mess won’t bother me. We need to talk, and I don’t think you’ll want to be in the hallway.”

Goosebumps ran up her arms to her neck. “What happened?”

“Inside.” He jerked his chin at her door. “Come on.”

There was no avoiding it. Josie unlocked her door, trying to stay cool as they stepped in. She didn’t miss the second he saw the wall. The breath he pulled sucked all the air from the room.

“Sweet mother of God,” he breathed.

“Dad—”

Hank held up a hand to stop her, though his eyes were locked on her wall. He stepped toward it with brows knit and eyes narrow. “What in God’s name is all of this?”

Josie squeezed her hands behind her back. “I’ve been working on the case.”

He turned and made a smart-ass face that didn’t displace his anger. “I can see that.”

She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to say it out loud. “I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t stop looking. You know everything I know. Nothing on that wall is news to you, so how is seeing it like this a surprise?”

“Don’t play with me. This,” he said as he motioned to the wall, “is well above and beyond. Listen, honey, I know this is important to you—”

“No, Dad.” Her voice trembled. “This is everything. Tell me you would have done differently.”

Hank laid his hands on his hips and looked at the ground as he collected himself. “I can’t. I get it, but, Josie, this…” His eyes found the wall again, and he shook his head.

Josie took a breath. “Just look at it. Everything is here—every connection, every victim we’ve been able to find. There could be more, Dad, and now we’ve finally got him. We can bring these families peace by putting him away.”

“Sit down.”

“But, Dad—”

“Sit down, Jo.”

The command was flat and calm, and as she sat, her hands and face went numb.

“There’s a reason I’m here this morning, beating on your door like a crazy man. I kept calling you, and you didn’t answer, and I thought maybe Rhodes…” He looked tortured.

And then she understood. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she answered softly.

“I know. I know you are.” Hank pursed his lips, waiting an agonizing moment before he said, “ Josie, Rhodes is gone.”

The words sent a shock through her, the room dimming. Black spots danced in her vision. There was no air in the room. She dragged in a ragged breath, her lungs screaming.

Gone.

“How…”

“I’m trying to figure that out. I had a patrol in his alley from the time he left the station until this morning when I sent Walker and Davis to his place to hound him. He wasn’t there, wasn’t at any of the places on the list you made of his haunts. He left his phone, his wallet, even his car, but he’s gone. I’ve got a team there combing the place, but if he planned this out…”

She found her voice and looked up at her father. “I have to find him.”

“Now, Josie—” he warned.

She held his eyes. “You’re not going to stop me, so you might as well help me.”

“Goddammit, child,” he hissed and ran a hand through his hair before pointing at her. “If you tell your mother, I swear to all that’s holy—”

“You know I won’t.”

“I do know you won’t. Dammit.” Hank huffed. “I’m not confident we’re going to find anything to help us figure out where he is, Jo. We might not find him, and I need you to think about the what-if, okay?”

Refusal shot through her. “Not yet.”

“No, not yet, but sooner than later.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll call you when we’re finished at Rhodes’s.”

“Okay.”

He watched her for a second like he hated everything about everything. “Be careful, and you get the hell out of there if anything is off. You hear me? You’re not unsinkable, Jo, and if anything should happen to you—”

“Daddy, I know.”

Hank sighed, and the sound weighed a million pounds. “I trust you. I know you’ll be smart. I don’t think he’s hanging around, but you need to assume he’s around every corner. I wish more than anything that you had a partner.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be careful,” she promised.

“Come here.” He opened his arms, and she found herself curled up against his chest. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too.”

Hank left Josie standing in her living room, and she stared at the wall for seconds or minutes—she wasn’t sure. She turned and grabbed her gun holster and keys. And when she walked out of her apartment to her car, it was with her gun swaying by her calf as the holster hung loose in her hand.

Think, Josie. Wake up.

Rhodes was gone—fucking gone—and she had to find him. It was the only thing to do, but she couldn’t comprehend how as she sped toward the shooting range. It was the one place she knew she could think.

Josie showed the attendant her membership card and signed in. The indoor range was completely empty, so she walked straight to a booth and set down her gun, extra magazines, and a box of ammo. The second she took aim, she fired in succession until the bullets were gone, immediately discarding the empty magazine to slide another in. As she fired again, the force of each shot reverberated up her arms, to her shoulders, up her neck, and into her brain. The feeling of control wound its way through her, pumping with every jolt as her heart slammed against her ribs.

She tallied the things she’d need to do as her mind ground into motion. She’d need to go to his house, talk to his neighbors. Call in some favors and see if she could find out if he’d pulled out any money. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

But first, I need to calm the fuck down.

So she emptied the magazine again, hitting the mark dead center every time.

Jon climbed the stairs of Josie’s apartment with his eyes on his boots, running through his speech in his head, wondering how much of a fight he was in for.

He stopped when a low, rough voice said, “Landreaux?”

Jon stopped dead at the sound, smelling roses as he looked up to the landing, confused when his eyes met Hank Campbell’s.

“Mr. Campbell?”

Hank slipped his hands into his pockets and descended a couple of steps. “If you came for Josie, she’s not here.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t hide his disappointment.

Hank glanced back over his shoulder. “We must have just missed her. Her phone is in there, too. Damn her. I can hear it ringing.”

“She left her phone?” Jon was shocked at the thought.

“Yeah. She was a little upset when I left a bit ago, but I have a feeling I know where she is.”

Jon’s brows dropped. “What happened?”

“I shouldn’t tell you anything, you know.”

“I get that a lot from the Campbells.”

“Can you blame us?” Hank asked.

“No, I don’t suppose I can.”

Hank looked Jon over and folded his arms. “I know what happened between you and my daughter, and I’ll tell you that from my end—and off the record—I think she’s in the wrong. I know how much she cares about you. She needs a friend, and she needs someone to watch her back. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Yes, sir, I can try. It really all depends on Josie.”

He shifted, and his face was tight with worry. “How much do you know about Anne’s death?”

“I know they were looking for a missing girl, and I know that Jo suspects that a man by the name of Corey Rhodes killed Anne, Hannah, and a number of other girls, mostly prostitutes.”

“She tell you all that?” Hank didn’t look like he believed it.

Jon smirked. “In a way.”

“Josie found Anne’s necklace two days ago stuck in her window rail, and it had his fingerprint on it. She lifted it and got a match off of a can in Rhodes’s garbage.”

“Holy shit.” Jon reached for the handrail and gripped it tight.

Hank nodded. “Except after we brought him in yesterday, he lawyered up, left the station, and disappeared.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jon whispered.

“I came back since I couldn’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t have left her alone after dropping that kind of news, but she was already gone. I can’t really go looking for her right now. I’ve got to get back to the station, but I have an idea where she is.”

“All right. What can I do?”

“First, I need to know something. Why didn’t you say goodbye to her?”

Jon swallowed, his throat dry and eyes pleading. “I tried. I told her everything in a letter, but she never got it. I couldn’t say it out loud, and I know what that makes me, but if I could do it over again…”

Hank’s hard face softened by a degree. “You hurt her again, and I’ll gut you.”

“Understood,” Jon said, relieved and surprised at the feeling that he’d just gotten Hank Campbell’s blessing in Josie’s stairwell. “We’ll see if I’ve got a chance.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do, if you can make it past the firing squad,” Hank answered, amused. “Josie always shoots when she’s upset, and she’s a member at the Westside Range. If I was a betting man, I’d put my money on her being there.”

“Yes, sir, I recall that she’s a member. So am I, and we’ve bumped into each other there before, so I’m certain I can get by without making her suspicious.”

“That’s appreciated. She’d flay me if she knew I’d spoken to you.”

“And then you’d flay me.”

Hank chuckled. “I don’t care what anyone else says about you, kid. You’re all right,” he said with twinkling eyes.

The corner of Jon’s mouth lifted. “Thanks, Mr. Campbell.”

“Call me Hank, and don’t make me regret any of this,” he said as he made his way down the stairs.

Jon followed. “Yes, sir.”

The two men parted ways at the sidewalk with the invitation for Jon to contact Hank if he needed anything.

And Jon finally had an in. He didn’t even know how it had happened, but there it was.

But the game had changed. The evidence board didn’t matter. Connecting Rhodes to the murders was moot. They had to find him, and the slate had all of a sudden been wiped clean.

Jon walked the few blocks to the subway station so fast, it was more of a slow jog, his thoughts whirling around his head the whole way. He pictured Josie finding the necklace, and his chest squeezed and tightened.

She’d found a way to pin Rhodes, and he’d escaped. Jon couldn’t even imagine what was going through her head, what she’d been through since he saw her last, and wished again he had been able to be there for her.

He had missed so much.

By the time he reached the Westside Range, he was wound up and nervous as all hell. And once he signed in and made his way into the range and through the threshold of stalls, his heart skipped a beat, starting again like a hammer as he walked toward her.

Josie stood in the aisle, her long legs in black running shorts, her copper hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes, behind safety glasses, were trained down the range, her body as tight as a bowstring. The overhead lights cast shadows on the gentle slopes of her biceps as she fired, not stopping between shots.

She didn’t register him when he stopped near her, not until she lowered her arms and dropped her magazine. The second she caught sight of him in her periphery, she turned to him with shock and anger and pain written in every line and angle of her face.

She flipped off her ear protectors. “What in the actual fuck are you doing here?”

He played it off like it was chance, him being there, smiling at her with his heart on fire. “This is the only firing range in Manhattan, and I’m a member, same as you. Is it really all that crazy that I’d see you here?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. This has to be some sick joke.”

She reached into the box of ammo in front of her and slid the bullets into the empty magazine, one by one. Jon didn’t miss that her hands trembled as she popped them in.

“You okay, Josie?” Jon asked innocently like the fucking asshole he was.

Josie couldn’t even look at him, couldn’t believe that, of all days, of all times, he had walked in right then. She couldn’t go one day without him showing up, and that day, in that moment, there was no way she could deal with him. She couldn’t deal with anything.

“No, I am not fucking okay.” Her voice wavered as she slammed the magazine into her pistol and picked up an empty one to load it.

Josie could feel him even though he was several feet away, could feel his sadness and worry as he watched her in silence.

When she couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, she filled it with words. “Rhodes is gone. He’s fucking gone because I found his fingerprint, and Dad brought him in. Anne’s necklace has been in my apartment this whole time. The entire time. It was right there.” She slapped the magazine down on the counter, though her hand didn’t move from over it as she leaned on the surface and closed her eyes. “He’s gone, and now, I have to find him.”

“I’m sorry.” His words were heavy with concern.

“It’s not your fault.” She opened her eyes and picked up the last empty magazine, keeping her attention on her hands.

“I’m sorry all the same.”

“I can’t fucking handle you right now. Not today.” She finally looked at him, but her jaw was tight, and she hoped the warning was clear.

“Josie, I’ve been staring at a replica of your wall for days. I want to help. You know I do, and you know I can.”

She shook her head. Of all the people in all the world, he might be one of the last who she’d ask for help, who she would ever trust. She also knew he was the only person who could. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“I care more than just about anybody, and I don’t doubt that you can figure this out because you’re the most capable woman I’ve ever known. I saw what you did with the evidence wall, and it’s one of the smartest, most terrifying things I’ve ever seen. I know you can do this on your own. But that doesn’t mean you should.”

Josie raised her gun and fired through another round. He waited as she dropped the magazine and slammed another home before unloading it again. Somewhere in the third magazine, he finally turned and walked away.

Her ears rang with each shot, her eyes burning as she emptied the chamber. And when he was finally gone, she dropped her arms, pressing her palms on the counter, head bowed where he could no longer see her cry.

It was just after dusk that evening, the sun slipping away with Josie’s hope. She shifted on her aching feet, standing on the porch of one of Rhodes’s neighbors, who apologized for not having more information before closing her door.

Josie turned and walked down the steps. She had spoken to anyone who would listen as she waited for the police team to leave Rhodes’s house. But, of course, no one had seen or heard anything, and she found herself feeling helpless and numb and empty.

It was the worst kind of tired, like nothing mattered enough to stop you from curling up wherever you were, closing your eyes, and sleeping forever. She had no new information by the close of the day, and neither did Hank.

There was only one thing left on her list for the day—break into his house.

Josie walked down the block and to the alley, stopping by her car to grab her gloves and picks before making her way up his driveway, sneaking into his back gate and quietly closing it behind her, ignoring the police tape. It wasn’t the first time she’d broken into his house, though she’d never been there at night. It was eerily quiet as she unrolled her leather pick case and pulled on her gloves.

She looked around the door for a tamper seal, but there was none. Hank had said they hadn’t found anything other than his fingerprints, which were a match to the one on Anne’s necklace. Rhodes had been raised from potential suspect to wanted man, but nothing in his home connected him with any other murders or indicated where he’d gone. Josie wasn’t convinced that she would fare any better, but she had to do it.

She had to see for herself.

Josie turned on her flashlight, gripping it between her teeth to illuminate the lock as she slipped her picks in, twisting and wiggling them to manipulate the pins inside, smiling when she heard the click. Her gloved hand wrapped around the knob and pushed, and the door swung open into the dark kitchen. She gathered her things and stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind her with a soft snick.

The only light in the silent house was the small beam from her flashlight as it swept the room.

“Where to start?” she whispered to herself.

The quiet house was neat and tidy, everything dusted and symmetric, which had always creeped her out. In the living room, two love seats faced each other. His TV hung on the wall, flanked by two paintings of a landscape, almost identical. She thumbed through the contents of his built-in bookshelves, noting all the generic reading material, classics that people were supposed to read and enjoy, lest they become social lepers, and she wondered if he’d read a single one. The spines were perfect.

As she climbed the stairs, she noticed that nothing seemed out of place. There were no signs of a hasty exit throughout the house, strangely not even in his bedroom where the bed was neatly made and topped with throw pillows, the drawers all buttoned up tight. Josie opened them anyway, and though they were almost bare, everything left was folded in neat little rows. She rummaged through his nightstand, looking for any papers he might have scribbled a note on, but found nothing.

There was nothing.

Artemis looked in as Josie walked into Rhodes’s office and sat down to go through his desk drawers. When she opened the long middle drawer, Artemis thought of the business card, and it appeared in a corner where Josie wasn’t looking as she sorted through rubber bands and paperclips. The name and information of a man who knew who had helped Rhodes get away were printed on it, and Artemis sat back, smiling. Josie would find him, and she’d be on her way after Rhodes in no time.

Dita gasped when she saw it, instantly recognizing the logo with the fat panda on it. “Perry! Look at that! What the fuck?”

“Get rid of it! Dammit, hurry!” She slapped Dita on the arm.

“Good gods.” Dita huffed, and the card disappeared just as Josie turned her attention deeper in the drawer where the card had been. Dita sat back on her couch. “That was close. She never would have accepted Jon’s help if she’d found it, and my plans would have been fucked sideways.”

“Crisis averted.”

“For now,” Dita said, not feeling so sure.

Josie smelled roses and looked up, baffled. She glanced around, certain that Rhodes wasn’t the type to keep flowers in his home, but shook her head when she found nothing amiss and turned back to the drawer.

She felt around the base as she always did, looking for a false bottom. Just once, she wished she would find one, just for novelty’s sake, but she was pretty sure IKEA didn’t make furniture with secret panels.

Leaning back in the office chair, she looked around the room, wondering how long before he’d sat in that spot and what he had been thinking. Where he would go.

Earlier that day, Josie had called in a favor to a friend who worked at a big bank chain where Rhodes had an account. Off the record, no large amount of cash had been withdrawn, though he’d been steadily pulling out several hundred dollars in chunks from ATMs ever since Anne was killed. And with that, she knew he’d planned on leaving all along.

Her job was infinitely more difficult with that knowledge. He wouldn’t have slipped up, not with time to prepare.

So the question was, where had he gone?

There were so many things he would need to be able to disappear, including a new identity and a car since his was still in his driveway. He wouldn’t go where anyone would recognize him, so the New York City area was out, as was Boston and Deer Lodge, Montana.

He could be anywhere else.

She wondered how deep he’d gone in getting new identification and guessed it would be all the way, as meticulous as he’d been to that point. He would have needed a connection, some way to get fake IDs. But Rhodes had no one to trust. He was antisocial and reclusive, and she didn’t believe he would clue anyone in who could be linked back to him. He would have been more likely to seek out someone sketchy in a seedy bar under an alias than to ever discuss something so direct with anyone he knew.

She’d stop by and talk to his coworkers for good measure, but she didn’t suspect she’d find much. Rhodes was smarter than that; he’d been getting away with actual murder for thirty years.

Her only other idea was to paper junkyards with flyers, hoping someone would remember him and praying he hadn’t bought his getaway car off Craigslist.

Dread crept into her stomach as it dawned on her for the first time that she might never find him. There might be no justice, no closure. It might never be over, and she didn’t know how she could move on.

She pushed the thought away and stood, looking over the room a final time before making her way back downstairs and through his kitchen to descend the stairs of his basement.

Josie swept her small light around the cold, dark room, and a shiver rolled down her spine. She fought the urge to turn and run back up the stairs and had to force her legs to move her through the room.

A weight bench and elliptical as well as a rack of free weights were the prominent decor. The only other items in the room were an old couch and coffee table that sat in the nook created by the stairs. As she walked over to the furniture, she couldn’t stop thinking how odd it was that a couch and table were there when the room was so sparse. There was no TV to watch, no bookshelf. Just a couch and a coffee table and a bunch of weights.

She wondered why she’d never considered it before, a sick feeling of realization rolling through her.

The crawl space opening was blocked by cardboard boxes, and she knelt down to move them out of the way, shining her flashlight inside.

Something had been hidden there.

Her heart pounded. She could see the square in the dust on the ground where it had rested and drag marks where it had been pulled out. Her mind flashed with the possibilities of what it might have been as she stared inside.

It almost killed her not to know.

She stood and turned as she let out a breath, looking over the basement with an icy hollow in her chest. She was standing in the room where he’d killed them. Somehow, she knew. He had brought them to that room and murdered them, and their last moments had been filled with the rafters and naked light bulbs, the cold concrete underneath them and Rhodes’s face above, the smell of the musty basement in their noses as they had taken their last breaths.

He had killed them, wrapped them up, taken them away, and dropped them in the river to be forgotten.

But Josie would never forget. And she would make him pay for every one.

“I actually hate not letting Josie find that card.” Dita sank into her overstuffed couch and tugged her throw over her legs.

“I know, but damn, that would have been a disaster.” Perry pulled her black hair out of its knot and shook it out with her fingers.

“I still cannot believe that Artemis did all this.”

“Maybe Artemis does know something you don’t. Maybe Josie has some psychic superpower.”

“You know good and well she doesn’t. But if Jon can find something before Josie does—”

“He could take that to her—”

Dita nodded. “And she’d let him help. She’s going to go after Rhodes, but I’d feel loads better if Jon went with her.”

“Well, you’d definitely have a better chance at winning.”

“What?” Dita wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be asinine. That is seriously the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

Perry raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not the very last thing, but it’s not on the level with keeping them safe, not even close. Rhodes is dangerous, and if Josie’s on her own with him…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to think about it.” Perry paused, clearly thinking about it before changing the subject. “Well, your plan sounds solid. I think you can make it work.”

“I can definitely make it work, but I’m still worried.” Dita put her forehead in her hands. “I am so tired, and I am beyond mad at Artemis. Look.” She held her trembling hand out flat to illustrate. “I mean, what if they can’t catch him?”

“Poor Josie. This is so hard on her.”

Dita’s anger rolled around in her, and she felt herself scowling.

“Did you sleep?”

“Nope. After my meltdown yesterday, I was sure I’d pass out. After you guys left last night, I took a super-long bubble bath and read, but when I lay down, I couldn’t sleep. I stared out the window until the sun came up.”

“Did you doze at all?”

Dita took a deep breath. “Yeah. Not okay.”

“Want to tell me?”

“Not the details, but last night was the Adonis show. He died over and over again in my arms, and I couldn’t stop it. Then, I’d realize that I was holding the knife, and the dream would start over.”

“Gods, Dita.”

“I know. I’m sick, and I don’t know how to get better. No one can help me.” She let out a sigh. “You know something else? I was thinking about why Echo had brought me the mirror in the first place. That timing was really fucking convenient.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that too. It just seems really strange to me that she would bring it to you, unprompted. How did she even know you would be interested in it? She didn’t know about Adonis. Someone had to tell her. She never leaves her cave, like, ever.”

Dita’s thoughts fired in her head like Black Cats in a tin can. “Artemis.”

“Yeah,” Perry said flatly.

“Motherfucker,” Dita breathed. “She did it to fuck with me, to mess with my head.” She shook her head with her eyes out of focus, not believing it. “If it wasn’t for her, you and I wouldn’t have fought. I wouldn’t have gone through the pain that the mirror had caused. It’s her fault. It’s all her fault.”

“Hang on, you’re the one who went crazy when you got it,” Perry reminded her.

“I know that, but she instigated the whole thing. She set it all up to hurt me on purpose.”

“We don’t know that she wanted to hurt you. In fact, we don’t even know for sure if she did it.”

That was all Dita needed. She flipped her blanket off and stormed to the elevator. “Well, I’m going to fucking find out. Right now. Are you coming?”

Perry eyed her warily. “I don’t know if you can handle her in your current state of zombie brain, but is there really any way to stop you?”

“No.” Dita practically ran for the elevator, untethering her anger and letting it fly. “I’m pretty much running strictly on adrenaline, which will go really badly for her if she crosses me.”

Perry trotted in behind her, and the doors closed. “Should we have a safe word in case you go apeshit?”

“Good idea.” Dita thought for a second. “Purple rain.”

“Ooh. Done. Will you actually stop if I say it?”

“Probably.”

The elevator doors opened into Artemis’s domain, and Dita barreled down the moonlit path to the boulder where the Oceanids made camp. They scrambled for weapons as she approached, moving around their small fires with their eyes on her, and several drew their bows.

Dita held her hand up and knocked two down with a blast. “Artemis,” she called.

Artemis pushed the flap of her tent open and stepped out with her lips in a flat line. “Aphrodite.”

Dita stopped across from her. “You sent Echo to me with the mirror.”

Artemis’s hands were loose at her sides, and Dita made note of the dagger just visible in her boot and the other in her holster.

“I did. I believed that you might appreciate the opportunity to see him again.”

“Oh, I am so sure you did it out of the kindness of your heart.” The sarcasm cut through the air. “You cruel, twisted creature. You play with things you do not understand. How can you be so careless and vicious with the hearts of others? You have no concern for me or Josie or anyone, and now, you’ve thrown your player into the fire—and on purpose. It’s irresponsible and foolhardy and cavalier and…and…I don’t know. Fucked the fuck up.”

Everything grew darker by shades as Artemis began to glow, as if she were drawing all of the moonlight into her skin. “I do not answer to you, especially when you come into my home in the middle of the night just to fight.”

Nymphs lined up around Aphrodite with their bows drawn.

“I am not afraid of you, Artemis. I’ve been into the depths of Hades and lived through more than you can even fathom.” Dita knew her eyes were glowing as the wind whipped around her. “Tell your bitches to back off. I don’t want any of them to get hurt.”

“Do not threaten me.”

“I didn’t threaten you,” she said, her voice deadly calm. “I threatened them.”

“Purple rain.” Perry was tentative, her eyes bouncing between the goddesses.

Dita waved her off without even looking in her direction. “You have no idea how humans work, how love or emotions work. They’re like little playthings for you to destroy. Does it make you happy to cause them pain?”

Artemis’s eyes were dark as she dropped her chin, and her jaw set in a hard line. “I do not want Josie to be hurt.”

“But you’ve already hurt her, don’t you see? And now you have sent her after the lion with nothing but a slingshot. If she does get hurt, it’s nothing to you, isn’t it? Don’t you care? Do you care about anything? Have you ever cared about anything?”

“I have cared more deeply than you and the men you throw away. You speak to me of carelessness when you know nothing of devotion.” Artemis took a step toward her, seething and accusing. “How can the goddess of love be so blind to her own heart? You claim to love a hateful dog who would murder you if it meant no other could have you. Your other love is a vapid half-wit who has been dead for three thousand years. And then,” she scoffed, “there is your husband, who you have made a cuckold of for eternity. Could you truly be so empty? Really, it is only proof that you have never loved anyone but yourself.”

The words swallowed Dita whole and spit her out hot. Her face twisted as she rushed Artemis, shrieking like a Harpy.

Artemis dodged her, and the goddesses circled each other, eyes glowing and power charged in their hands.

“Purple rain! Purple rain!” Perry yelled, running into the fray after Dita.

When Perry caught her, she pulled Dita’s arms, dragging her toward the path away from camp. Dita let Perry guide her away, but her eyes never left Artemis, though her rage and wrath ebbed by a small degree.

She shook Perry off. “Don’t act like you have your shit together, Artemis. Orion is gone and by no fault of mine. Deal with your own baggage without taking it out on everyone else.” She punctuated her words with the jab of her finger. “Insult me all you want, but it’s not my problem that you can’t get over the fact that you loved and lost.”

Dita turned and stormed up the hill, and Perry gave an awkward wave and apologetic smile before she turned and trotted to catch up, leaving Artemis standing among her Oceanids. The nymphs lowered their bows and turned to stare at her.

Artemis cleared her throat and held her chin high. “Back to work, and retire early, for we hunt at dawn.”

No one moved.

“That is an order,” she snapped.

And the Oceanids dispersed with whispers and looks.

Her cheeks were hot as she blew back into her tent, closing the flap with a snap. She dropped onto her bed, cradling her head in shaky hands, and there in the dark, she found truth in every word Aphrodite had spoken.

DAY 8

THE LATE MORNING SUN cut through the chill as Jon walked up the sidewalk to the Gold Panda Pawnshop.

After he’d left the shooting range the day before, he’d called Hank Campbell to let him know Josie was safe and that she’d refused his help once again. They’d talked for a while. Hank believed Rhodes had been planning on leaving since he killed Anne. And, if he’d been working on setting everything up for months, he wouldn’t have made many mistakes.

Finding him wouldn’t be easy.

But that was where Jon might be able to help.

He walked under the yellow awning illustrated with a fat cartoon panda eating bamboo, and when he pushed open the door, the bell dinged, announcing his entrance.

Jimmy Li stuck his head out from the office. “Goddamn, if it isn’t Jon Landreaux,” he said with a smile.

“Jimmy, what’s up, man?”

Jon approached the counter, and they clasped hands and pulled into a hug, clapping each other on the back.

“Damn, bro. Look at you.” Jimmy shook his head and looked him over. “It’s been years, Jon. Where the hell have you been?”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, the short answer is New Orleans.”

“How long have you been back?”

“Little over a month.” Jon glanced around the shop. “What’s been going on around here? You still in the business?”

Jimmy looked over his shoulder. “Man, you’re lucky my old man’s not here with you asking me about it all out in the open like it’s no big deal.”

Jon chuckled. “Old Man Li speaks no English.”

“He might not speak it, but he understands every single word.” Jimmy rested his hands on the counter. “Yeah, I’m still in the business. You need some IDs made? Security badge maybe? College ID? Gym membership?”

“No, nothing for me. I’m looking for info this time.” Jon pulled a photo of Corey Rhodes out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter. “Have you seen this guy around?”

Jimmy picked up the picture and took a hard look at it. “No. Who is he?”

“A good friend of mine’s partner was killed, and this guy did it.”

“Oh shit, man.”

“They brought him in but couldn’t charge him, and as soon as they let him out, he split town.” Jon shook his head. “This guy’s smart. He’s been killing girls for years, and the cops don’t have so much as a speeding ticket on him.”

Jimmy was stunned. “A serial killer? Whoa.”

“Yeah. I think he’s been planning on leaving for a long time. It was too clean. This guy is meticulous. If he was gonna do it right, he would have gotten papers. Ghost papers.”

“It would be the best way to disappear,” Jimmy agreed. “If you’re right, he should be easy to track down. There’s a shitload of work involved in setting someone up with a ghost ID, and it’s risky. We’ve got to find someone with the same general stats—similar age, height, and weight. It’s getting harder and harder to pull it off, too. Everything’s gone digital, but none of these government agencies check their records against death records unless there’s a reason. Right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing and all that. But, now that government agencies are connecting their databases with search engines, ghosting will likely become a thing of the past.”

Jon laughed. “Did you just nerd out on me about government agencies?”

Jimmy feigned hurt. “Hey, don’t joke. Forgers could be out of a job in the next fifteen years, the old-school ones. It’s all about digital now, which I am so down with. The number one rule for all entrepreneurs is to adapt.” He tapped his temple.

“Entrepreneur, huh?” Jon smirked.

“Don’t act all high and mighty. You’re in the same boat, Mr. Private Investigator. Anyway, let me ask around and see what I can dig up. I know a lot of other entrepreneurs in forgeries, so hopefully, I can find something. I owe you big time. You’ve gotten me out of more than a couple of fixes over the years.”

“Thanks, man. The sooner, the better. Every day that passes hurts our chances of finding him.”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

They said their goodbyes, and Jon headed for the subway.

He had Jimmy on his side and was comforted by the notion that finding Rhodes was less of a long shot than he’d initially thought. He only hoped something came of it.

Rhodes had disappeared like vapor and mist, and a rush of uncertainty shot through Jon at the thought that the man could be impossible to trace, that they might never find him.

But mostly he worried over what that would mean for Josie.

Gravel crunched under Josie’s boots as she stepped out of her car and made her way to the office of the salvage yard. She was somber and tired, weighted by futility that hung over her like a thundercloud.

She’d spent the morning at Rhodes’s workplace in an effort to sniff out anyone who might have been connected with him, but she’d walked away with a big, fat zero. His coworkers had been shocked that he was a murder suspect, said he’d seemed so normal, if not a little weird. He’d occasionally gone out for drinks with everyone but always kept a distance, never making any real friends at his workplace.

Just another dead end.

As Josie approached the office of the salvage yard, Billy walked out with a smile, wiping his hands off on a red rag.

“Hey, Josie. What can I do for you, kid?”

“Hey, Billy. I have a favor to ask.” She handed him a flyer she’d made on Rhodes with his picture, stats, and the police contact information. “Have you seen this man? He would have bought a car with cash some time in the last five months or so.”

His gray eyebrows rose, and he pulled off his cap, scratching the back of his head with his full hand as he inspected the flyer. “Any idea what he bought? Know what he might have been in the market for?”

“I was hoping you could help with that. I’m not sure where he was headed, but it’d probably only need to get him one way.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” There was no denying that Billy thought it was a lost cause, which it probably was. “I haven’t seen him, but if you want, I can ask around.”

“That would be great. I know it’s a needle in the hay.”

“It is, but I’ll see if I can dig something up.”

“Thanks. It’s important.”

“All right, kiddo. I’ll give you a call if I hear anything.”

He gave her a pat on the shoulder, and she turned to go.

A thousand thoughts tumbled around her head as she drove home.

They pinged and popped in her brain as she trudged up her stairs.

They caught fire and burned as she sat on her couch and stared at her evidence wall—the tangible product of her work and her pain. That wall and its contents were her only connection to Rhodes. The familiarity of it gave her comfort, something she desperately sought as she grappled with the realization that there was nothing left to be done. Every lead she’d found was either a dead end or hung on help from someone else.

It was out of her hands. And her hands ached with the emptiness.

But there was another option, one she didn’t want to consider. It existed all the same.

She could call Jon.

Fresh eyes could help, an outside perspective, someone smart, someone whose mind worked the way hers did. And, if it were anyone else, she would have called in a heartbeat.

She let herself imagine it for a moment, let herself daydream about Jon sitting there with her, poring over the case, finding something she hadn’t seen, some connection she’d missed. Finding something. Anything.

What was the worst that could happen?

But she knew the answer before she even asked herself. She would let him back in; she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would fall again, and this time, she didn’t know if she would get back up.

Josie picked up her phone and called her dad, hoping he had something to recharge her hope. Because hers was gone.

Hank answered with a, “Hey.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Please tell me that you’ve got even a whiff of a lead.”

Hank sighed. “It’d be a lie. His bank and credit card accounts have all been dormant, and every lead we’ve found is a dead end. It seems that not a single person called him a friend. In fact, I think you might know him better than anyone.”

“That is so messed up,” she said.

“That also means that if you don’t know where he is…”

She ran a hand across her forehead.

“Do you have any connections you can call in?” Hank asked.

Jon’s face flashed in her mind.

“Not really. I’ve kind of been a loner lately, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah, but surely there’s someone, right? You need a resource, someone fresh. I think we’re all too close, honey, and a new perspective could be the thing that makes a difference. What about Landreaux? He’s a smart kid. He could be a real asset to you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, not certain she’d heard him right.

“What do you mean, what? You need help, and he can help you. I can’t be there for you on this like you need. Maybe Landreaux will have some insight.”

“What in the bloody hell? Since when do you approve of anything having to do with Jon?”

“Since you need help and I can’t help you.”

“I’m not calling him,” she said without even considering it.

He paused for a moment. “Josie, this isn’t about you or him or what happened between you two. It’s bigger than that.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she shot.

“I dunno, Jo. You’re not acting like you do, so I thought it warranted saying aloud.”

“Duly noted.” The words were cold and flat.

Hank sighed. “Just think about it. And call me if you need anything.”

“Same goes,” she said, trying to breathe through her anger.

They said their goodbyes, and Josie ran her hand over her mouth, feeling alone, abandoned, betrayed, even by her father, backed into a corner with the case and her options and the sum of her entire life.

As she looked over the wall of facts and photos, the clock on the wall ticked on and on, louder and louder until she couldn’t stand it anymore. So she stood and turned on music, drowning the sound and replacing it with something she could control. She turned back to her torture to try to find a way out, a way to Rhodes, knowing somewhere in her heart that there was likely none.

Hooves thundered as Eleni and Helena charged each other with lances out, trailing clouds of dust behind them. Their unicorns beneath them snorted as they rushed across the field on a track for each other. Eleni’s teeth were bared, her skin sparkling in the sun, and when lance met shield, the splintering thunk rang through the woods.

Helena flew off the back of her steed, slamming to the ground in a poof of dust.

Artemis sipped wine from under a canopy as the Oceanids roared. Eleni threw her fist in the air, her unicorn stamping his hooves, his head as high and proud as his rider’s.

The joust had been Eleni’s idea, an attempt to cheer the camp and Artemis after the drama of the fight and the mutterings of dissent among them. One of her two goals was achieved—the Oceanids were wholly entertained—while the other had eluded Artemis completely.

Helena stumbled as the Oceanids helped her up but was otherwise unharmed. Another Oceanid ran for the free unicorn, hopping onto its back in a single motion with a whoop. She was handed Helena’s lance and shield, and the nymphs lined up at opposite ends of the track for another round.

Artemis paid little attention. Her mind was still on Aphrodite’s fit from the night before and the words that had been exchanged.

“You can’t get over the fact that you loved and lost.”

She didn’t know how to move on from Orion’s death or how to stop wishing things could be different. He had been stolen from her in a manner unfair and unjust, killed over a misunderstanding. Killed trying to save her. It was a thing that she could never forget and never forgive herself for.

He had been her one chance, and losing that had changed her, rearranged her into something harder, lonelier, angrier. Someone with less patience for things that they couldn’t control.

Like love.

Orion and Artemis lay under the stars on a tall cliff, surrounded by swaying cypress trees, shadows of black on black. A road made of stars trailed up and away from the horizon among clusters of blue and purple clouds of stardust, bright against the dark of night.

“It is so difficult to fathom immortality,” Orion said with his eyes on the constellations.

“I do not generally try to fathom it. Only live it one day at a time, one foot in front of the other.” She looked over at him where he lay next to her.

His hands were tucked behind his head, his face unreadable, illuminated by the stars. “Do you think that perhaps the reason you do not contemplate living forever is because you have not encountered loss?”

She bristled and trained her eyes on the sky. “I have lost much in my life. I have been through hardship.”

“But have you felt a loss so great that you measure time by it? A loss so deep that you count each day since it passed and every day in the future, knowing the pain it will hold?”

Her brows furrowed. “I do not understand.”

His words were soft when he spoke. “Artemis, you have never lost one dear to you. Not your mother, much to Hera’s dismay, nor your brother. You have Eleni. You have me.”

She turned to find him looking down at her with his head propped on his hand.

“Yes, and I always will. I will never let harm fall on any of you,” she answered simply.

“Artemis, you cannot stop fate.” He reached for her cheek and pushed her hair behind her ear, his fingertips trailing fire across her skin.

“Do not speak of this, please. You are immortal as well, in a way.”

“In a way, yes, but I can be killed, and there are ways to kill you too, few though they might be. Death will find us as life did. It is a thing in which we have little choice.”

“Please,” she whispered. “You mustn’t leave me.”

“I will be with you as long as I am able.”

The tenderness and sadness in his words unraveled her as she looked into his eyes. The moonlight shone on his face, carving shadows and angles that her fingers ached to touch. She reached for him, winding her arm around his neck, drawing him close, and when her lips pressed against his, she was forever lost.

A tear fell, and she brushed it away as if it had been a nuisance. She drained her goblet as Eleni unseated another Oceanid, and the nymphs roared their joy.

Artemis set the empty chalice down and stood, banishing her sadness, and the din grew louder, her name echoing in her ears as she jogged to the unicorn of the fallen nymph. She pulled herself onto his back, wishing to erase her past, to banish her thoughts, even if only for a moment.

She was handed a lance and shield, and her nymphs ran back to the crowd, the excitement electric and heady. But when she turned for the track and braced herself, her mind did not turn its attention from Orion, did not quiet Aphrodite’s voice ringing in her ears.

Eleni charged, and Artemis kicked with a, H’ya, but as they approached each other, Artemis faltered.

The jolt from Eleni’s lance to her chest hit her like lightning. Artemis landed flat on her back in a cloud of dust, her eyes snapping open and lungs frozen and empty and burning. She gasped, starving for air, staring at the blue sky above.

Eleni’s face appeared over her, and she held her hand out.

“How rare, goddess,” Eleni said, alarmed, though smug enough at winning.

Artemis coughed, her voice rough. “Do not taunt me.”

“Whatever has gotten into you?”

She ignored Eleni’s hand and stood on her own. “Nothing. I’ve had too much wine is all.”

Eleni eyed her.

“I said I was fine. Please, let’s not be dramatic.” Artemis dusted off her robes with more force than was entirely necessary.

“As you say,” she said tightly with a small bow before turning for her steed once again.

Artemis’s skin crawled as the noise from her nymphs grew all of a sudden too loud, the sun too bright. She made her way to Calix, hopping onto his back as the Oceanids turned their eyes to her.

“Carry on, friends. I am weary and wish for solitude.” They mostly looked concerned, so she added, “The first of you who dismounts Eleni will receive a weapon of their choice from my personal armory.”

Eleni scowled from the other end of the field, but the expression shifted into a suppressed smile as the nymphs laughed and whooped, the tension broken. Artemis took the opening and fled, her tears streaking her face at angles as she rode as hard and fast as Calix would take her.

Dita stretched out on her side in her library, running her hand down Bisoux’s back as she watched the fire from where she lay on her sheepskin rug. The flames danced and jumped, the glowing ashes floating up into the chimney and logs burned bright orange, flaring when the air hit the hot wood, phasing bright to dark, and she stared, hypnotized.

The next thing she knew, Heff called her name. She blinked and propped herself up with a start to find him in her doorway, his dark hair pushed back from his face, his eyes bright with concern. Two wooden boxes rested in his arms.

“Dita, did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know.” Dita rolled onto her back and stretched as he sat down on the couch.

His worry melted into excitement. “I made you something. Two somethings actually.”

She sat, smiling when Bisoux trotted over to him and licked his hand. Heff passed her the wooden boxes and picked up the little dog, scratching at a spot on his side that always made his leg thump.

Dita laid the boxes down in front of her and ran her hand over the top of the larger one. It was deep chestnut with mother-of-pearl triangles inlaid on the surface to form an image of a dove, like a tangram. There was always a trick to his boxes, and she felt for a switch across the inlay with the pads of her fingers. The shape over where the dove’s heart would be clicked, and the triangles sank and slid under each other until the lid was gone.

She reached into the box and pulled out the machine inside. It was a triangular terrarium, a pyramid made of glass, joined at the seams with copper metal. Inside were shells in pinks and creams, sliced to show the curves and angles and shapes of the chambers, displayed on a bed of white sand.

Heff watched quietly as she inspected the device, turning it around in her hands, running her finger up the dark seams. When she found the small button at the top of the pyramid where the panes met, she pressed it.

The sound of the ocean filled the room, a steady rhythm, a crash and hiss of the waves as they hit the sand, and when she closed her eyes, she imagined she was in Greece.

“Press it again,” he said.

She opened her eyes and did just that. The device filled with black, and small, uneven stars floated inside, spinning slowly, shining silver. The sound the machine made was binaural—two tones weaving in and out of each other, soft and soothing. She sighed, relaxing instantly.

“There’s one more.”

Dita pushed the button again, and the scene transformed to a miniature mossy landscape with miniature mountains. A waterfall rushed out of the face of the stone and into a pool at the bottom. The sound of thundering water filled the room, and she beamed up at him, amazed.

He smiled back. “It’s set to your biorhythms, and it will adjust its settings to meet what your body needs. It’ll speed up your REM too, so you should dream less, if at all.”

“It’s brilliant,” she whispered as she turned it around in her hands.

His eyes were full of comfort and pleasure. “I just hope it helps.”

“I have a good feeling that it will. Thank you.”

They locked eyes, the silence hanging between them for a stretched out moment before he spoke, breaking it with the warm rumble of his voice“Open the other one.”

Dita remembered herself and blinked, setting the sleep machine next to her. She reached for the smaller box. It matched the larger box in design but was a fraction of the size, about the width of her palm, the geometric inlay on top in the shape of a star. She turned it over in her hands and gave it a shake, noting that three of the points of the star were an almost imperceptibly different shade than the others. She pushed all three, and the points retracted, revealing a long chain with a small rose gold pendant, stamped with the letter D.

“It’s beautiful, Heff,” she said, her face flushed, “but what’s the occasion?”

“Well,” he deposited the dog on the floor and moved to sit next to heron the floor, taking the chain, “it’s more than just a necklace—or bracelet, if you want.” He held her hand tenderly as he wrapped the chain around and around her wrist. “If you’re ever in trouble, click the pendant. It’s a button, see?” He mashed it, and she heard a small click. “Pressing it once won’t do anything, just in case you hit it by accident, but if you click it three times, it will shoot a chemical from right here.” He showed her the hole at the base of the pendant, along the rim.

“You made me god mace.” She laughed.

His smile was bright, a flash of white in the dark of his beard. “Perry told me. Although I couldn’t come up with any egocide.”

“I’m pretty sure his ego is unstoppable.” Dita twisted her wrist, the firelight catching the metal. “What will it do?”

“It will make whomever you shoot it at pass out for at least five minutes. Long enough for you to get away or for me to come to you.”

“How will you know if I need you?”

He held up a medallion made of silver, engraved with flames, a hammer, and a solid H. “If you press your pendant twice, it will call me.”

Relief slipped through her, warm and comforting as wine, and she shifted, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, whispering, “Thank you,” into his ear with the smell of wood fire in her nose and heart and soul.

Heff squeezed her tight and released her, looking down at her as he pulled away. “I hope they help, Dita.” He cupped her cheek before standing to walk around the couch. When he reached the doorway, he stopped to look back at her.

“I can’t even tell you what this means to me,” she said, wishing for him to stay, knowing he couldn’t forfeit any more of his heart than he already had.

Heff’s eyes burned, his face strong and intent and body solid and alive and real. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Dita nodded, her throat tight. “I know.”

“Sleep well, Wife,” he said in parting.

“I will, Husband.”

Dita watched him walk away with longing deep in her chest, and when he was out of sight, she picked up her terrarium again and pressed the buttons to cycle through the settings, stopping on the shining stars that spun slowly to the strange tonal sound. She stood and made her way to her bedroom where she set the machine on her nightstand and reached for her window remote to close the curtains and dim the lights. The room was cool and quiet other than the odd and soothing sounds of the machine.

And when she climbed into bed, she wrapped herself in her soft, heavy blankets and fell into a deep, quiet sleep.

DAY 9

JON LEANED BACK IN his desk chair that morning, running a hand through his hair helplessly.

He’d spent the morning working on his evidence spreadsheet, however irrelevant the task had become. He’d thought it might help him get him into Rhodes’s head, and frankly, he just hadn’t been sure what else to do, what else he could do.

Yesterday, Jon had called in every favor in his arsenal, and today, there was nothing left to do but wait. Rhodes’s picture and info were hanging in every border station from Maine to Seattle, though Jon didn’t think he’d cross to Canada. Maybe to Mexico, but he hoped to God that wasn’t the case.

If it was, they might never find him.

Really, he’d hung his hopes on Jimmy digging up something on Rhodes. If he didn’t, they were probably all well and truly fucked.

So, with nothing to do, Jon buried himself in researching and logging the kills, which was the most menial task he could attend to. He had to keep his hands busy, needed something he could pour energy into. At least he felt productive.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, adrenaline flashed through him. It was Jimmy Li.

“What’s the good word?” Jon answered casually, the clamp on his throat tight.

“Oh, man, are you in luck. I know the forger who got your guy his papers, sent him the dude’s picture, and he remembered, no problem. Better still…I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going.”

“Holy Christ, Jimmy,” Jon said in disbelief.

“Grab a pen, bro.”

Jon snapped to and picked up a pen, flipping to a new page in his blue notebook. “Shoot.”

“The IDs were for the name Gabriel Reilly, who died in a car accident about six months ago in Seattle. Nobody alerted the Department of Social Security.”

Jon’s pen stopped moving. “That actually happens?”

“Yeah, more often than you’d think. Smart ghosters stick to the state where the ID is from and get a new ghost identity every ten years, max. Even that’s pushing it. Anyway, if you’re going to take over someone’s life and you have fake papers, the best way to keep getting away with it is to not rock the boat. Don’t go to a new state and try to apply for a license because that’s just asking for trouble. You’ve gotta use the IDs of the dead guy.”

“So, you think he’s going to Washington?”

“If he’s smart, yeah. Let me give you all his numbers.”

“You guys keep all this information on file?”

“Hell yes, we do. We don’t want to double book an ID. Plus, sometimes when we put in favors to guys like you, it can keep us safe from the long arm of the law. You ready for the rest of the info?”

“Yeah.” Jon jotted down the information for the license and Social Security number with his mind on Josie. He had to get to her.

He stuffed his phone and the info on Rhodes into his pocket, grabbed his keys and jacket, and ran out the door.

This time, he was ready. He’d made a habit of not pressing his point, but that time had passed.

He couldn’t walk away again.

Josie paced the length of her apartment. Everything else was at a standstill.

She’d barely slept, and through the long hours of the night, her thoughts had run away like a freight train off a broken bridge. Rhodes had disappeared without a single trace, and every minute that passed carried him further away from her. She’d hit the end of the line, scraped the bottom of the barrel, and there was nothing left to do.

She stopped in the middle of the room and stared at the photos of all the women he had killed.

And in that moment she knew they would never be redeemed.

There was no Hail Mary, no last shot, no final play. He was gone, and they wouldn’t find him.

Her eyes lingered on Anne’s photo and welled with tears.

It’s over.

For the first time since Anne had died, she felt the truth of those two words sinking into her, dragging her down, down to her knees in front of the wall that meant nothing. And she folded in on herself, the pain so deep, so intense, she pressed her hands to her heart, as if they could alleviate the feeling of her ribs splitting.

She had lost.

It had been her one tether to her life, and she had lost her grip on it, felt it slipping through her fingers, too fast and hot to hang on to.

Her eyes closed, but her tears found their way down the planes and curves of her face, her breath too short, lungs too constricted in her grief to do more than sip the air. But she did; she sipped it until she could drink it, cried until there were no more tears, burned until she was ash.

Josie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, the wash of emotion finally receding, leaving her bare and empty.

And then she grabbed on to that tether again just before it was gone.

Don’t give up.

She knew one thing to be true above all else; she could not keep doing this alone. She needed someone to help her, someone who understood.

And only one person could help her.

Jon.

She had to put her fears aside, put her worry away. She had to call him. Because none of this was about her.

Her heart pitched, her hands numb and cold, when she really understood just how right the decision was. Jon could not only help, but he was willing and offering. Offers she’d refused simply because of her pride.

But she was alone. She’d been alone since Jon left her, but she’d been in hell since losing Anne.

And now, she would ask for his help, and he would give it to her because that was what he did. It would put her in his proximity, forcing them to work as a team, when she’d spent so long stoking the fire of her hatred and anger. The last time they’d worked together, they had been together.

And so she’d have to try to remind herself how he’d damaged her and hope it would be enough to protect her heart.

Josie took a fortifying breath, pulled up his number, and hit Send.

Jon’s phone rang from his pocket, and he almost tripped over his own feet when he saw Josie’s name on his screen.

“Hey, Jo,” he answered.

She took a deep breath in his ear and said in lieu of a greeting, “Does your offer to help still stand?”

A lazy smile crawled across his face. He’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, the relief instant and complete. Because even with the information he’d gotten from Jimmy Li, he hadn’t been convinced she’d accept his help without a serious fight. And now he wouldn’t have to convince her of anything.

He threw on his charm to cover up the truth. “I thought you might come around.” He started walking again.

“Oh?” It was just one tight syllable.

“Well, I was hoping,” Jon said, smiling but soft, the words whispering an apology.

She paused for a split second. “I’ve hit a dead end, Jon. I’ve done everything I know to do, but I can’t find a trace on him. His accounts aren’t moving. I canvassed salvage yards and came up empty. I searched his house, and he didn’t leave anything behind. He’s smart, Jon, and now…there’s nothing left. Nothing. And I need help.”

His smile fell away, his heart aching at her hopeless, frantic words. But he kept up his front, his armor, his charm. “You told me to leave it alone, but lucky for you, I’m a terrible listener. Did you think I wasn’t gonna dig around on my own?”

“No,” she said on a small laugh, “I guess I didn’t really believe that.”

“Smart cookie. Listen, I’m right around the corner. I can be there in just a couple of minutes. I’ve got something.”

“What?” The excitement in her voice fluffed his ego, and he smiled.

“I called in a favor. I have Rhodes’s new name and Social, and I have a good idea where he’s going.”

“Oh my God. Where?”

“Washington.”

She paused before saying with more relief than even he felt, “Thank you, Jon.”

“Don’t mention it.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be there in a few. Just sit tight.”

“All right.”

Josie wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs as she paced, more nervous waiting for him than before she called him. She hadn’t really expected Jon to keep going and certainly hadn’t thought he would find any leads. But that was why she needed him after all.

She tried to balance her relief and gratitude and giddiness with her intent to be angry, repeating her mantra in her mind, He hurt you. He left you. He chose her.

He knocked, and she jogged to the door, hesitating, her hand hovering over the knob for a moment before pulling it open.

Jon leaned against the doorframe on his forearm with twinkling eyes and a crooked smile, looking proud of himself. She felt something inside her shift, a flutter in her chest when she looked at him. It was the remnant of what she’d buried so far down in her heart, she hadn’t truly believed it was still alive.

Hope.

She felt herself smile back at the smug bastard.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

She rolled her eyes to cover for the fact that she’d been standing there like an idiot. “Come in, smart-ass.”

He made his way in, and she smelled the leather of his jacket as he walked by.

“Is that any way to treat your knight in shining armor?” he asked.

“No horse, no knight,” she said, glad his back was to her, as her cheeks were on fire.

He just had to be charming. It was like it was genetic, completely beyond his control.

He dug into his back pocket and handed her a slip of paper with a name, address, Social, and driver’s license number on it.

Josie’s mouth hung open, feeling like she held the map to El Dorado in her hands, humbled and disbelieving. “I can’t believe it. You actually did it,” she whispered. Her eyes met Jon’s. “You must have been owed one hell of a favor.”

“Jimmy and I have been friends a long time,” he said seriously. Then, he smiled. “And yes, he owed me one hell of a favor.”

She sat down heavily on the couch, her mind racing as she stared at the scrap of paper. “Washington. He’s definitely trying to get as far away as possible. Why not just jump the border?”

“His picture is posted at every border crossing into Canada. I called in a favor on that one, too. Anyway, it’s cheaper and faster for him to get US papers than to try to get Canadian papers and a passport. He’s driving, and he’s driving to Washington to take over this man’s identity. Right now, he’s somewhere between here and there.”

Josie opened her laptop and pulled up an interactive map, inputting the cities until the direct driving route was outlined in blue. “As smart as Rhodes has been, I don’t believe he’d take the fast and straight route, which means it’ll take him twice as long to get to where he’s going. Do you think we can catch him on the road?”

“I think it’s possible.” Jon sat down next to her, and their thighs touched as he leaned in to look at her computer screen.

Goosebumps trailed up her arms and shoulders to the hairs on the back of her neck, and she took a breath that was filled with him.

He hurt you. He left you. He smells good.

Wait, what?

She cleared her throat.

“He would stay off the interstate, but he’d be as direct as possible. Something like this.” She pointed at the screen to a scenic route. “I think he’d be cautious and stay off the road when there wasn’t a lot of traffic. Assuming he stopped every night, at about five hundred miles per day at a slower pace…that would put him about…here.” She pointed to a small town in South Dakota.

Jon nodded. “If we leave now, we could take the highway to gain on him. Once we hit around here”—he pointed to a spot in Montana—“he can only take the highway. There’s no other way to get into Spokane, not without taking about a four-hour detour. I think he’d risk a few hundred miles on the interstate to save the time. We should be able to catch up with him at that point.”

“But what about this route?” She pointed to an alternate route that ran through North Dakota. “Or this one,” she said as her heart sank.

There were too many variables.

“This is too risky, Jon. There’s no way to know where he is, what route he’d take, not with any certainty. We’re never going to find him.”

“I don’t know, Jo. I think he would go through Montana; that’s where he’s from. He’s familiar with it, and I think he’d take a route he knows over one he doesn’t. The real question though is, just how are we going to find him?” He stared at the screen for a moment. “He’s got to use cash, which means he’ll only be able to stay at motels. The number of possible places on either route is limited.”

She brightened up as a spark of hope lit in her. “I can fax them all of his info and offer a reward for information.”

“Fax? That’s current.”

Josie laughed. “I’ve got an online fax account that can send to fax machines via email.”

“Fancy,” he said with an eyebrow wiggle. “That’s a damn good idea. We’re sure to get a hit off one of them. All right. We need to leave as soon as possible. How much time do you need?”

“Just let me get my stuff together. I need to call my dad at some point too, but I might wait until we’re far enough that he can’t say no.”

“Probably smart. Anything I can do?”

“Start researching the motels and get a spreadsheet going.”

He was already typing in a search term. “On it.”

Josie headed back to her room and grabbed her duffel bag. Her hands trembled a little as she packed, excited and nervous and not exactly sure what had gotten into her. That bastard had found a way to wiggle his way in and in a way that was undeniably chivalrous even if he’d done the opposite of what she’d said and even if he was a jerk who had left her.

She felt the rush of adrenaline that came with every chase, the clarity that it brought. The relief she found in having a plan was a tangible thing. There was nothing she hated more than winging it. It made her downright crazy. The last few days had been proof of that.

Josie came out with her bag, and Jon turned with a smirk on his face.

“Got your toothbrush?” he joked. “You can’t use mine if you forgot it.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she’d be sleeping in the same room as him. “I got it. Don’t forget your hair ties because you can’t use mine.”

“I’m good.” He held up his wrist where a couple of rubber bands were wound.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

He hurt you. He left you. He chose her.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

He snapped her laptop closed and handed it to her.

She cradled it in the crook of her arm and grabbed her keys. “I’ll drive.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” He chuckled. “We’re taking my car.”

Josie propped a hand on her hip and eyeballed him. “I’m driving. My car gets better gas mileage.”

“No way am I riding across the country in a Mazda. We’re taking my Jeep.”

“Your Jeep sticks out too much. Could your tires be any bigger?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, they could. I’m driving. I’ll pay for all the gas, and it doesn’t matter what car we take because your hair draws more attention than if we were driving a Testarossa.”

“Jon, come on—”

“Stop being a control freak, Jo,” he said with firm tenderness.

She knew there would be no arguing with him, not with that look on his face.

“Look, it’ll give you the time to research while I drive because I’m never gonna drive a Mazda.”

She sighed, knowing it was a lost cause. “Fine, you win.”

“Thank you. Now, let’s go.”

They walked the block to Jon’s apartment, and he turned to her when she paused at the foot of the stairs to his building.

“Come on up, Jo.”

Josie looked warily at the door, not wanting to see what was inside. “I’ll just wait here.”

“I need you to make sure I don’t forget any other important supplies. You know, like headbands and extra underwear.”

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted to see was the home he shared with his family, and the last person in the entire world that she wanted to see was Tori.

“I’m not going in there, Jon.”

“Tori’s not home, and neither is Lola,” he said, soft and serious.

Josie squirmed and shifted her duffel bag on her shoulder. She’d been so sidetracked before they left that she didn’t realize she had to pee until they started walking. She was ready to get on the road and didn’t want to pull over unless they had to, so she figured, if no one was there, she could bear seeing reminders of the reasons Jon had left her so long as the reasons themselves weren’t around.

She waved him on. “Fine, fine.”

They made their way up the stairs and to his door, and Josie braced herself for what she’d see—proof of his family, proof she had no interest in acknowledging.

But when they stepped in and Josie heard a little girl yelling, “Daddy!” as she ran through the apartment, she went numb, wishing she could sink into the floor as the toddler jumped into his arms.

And just like that, her traitorous warm, hopeful feelings about Jon were gone. All that was left was her feelings of regret and foolishness.

She’d been stupid to get her hopes up. So, so stupid.

“Hey there, baby. What are you doin’ here?” His voice was tight, and she knew he was just as surprised as she was.

Well, maybe not just as surprised.

“I thought you and Mama were going to the zoo?” He smoothed her hair with his big hand.

Josie wanted to die. Her insides physically reacted to seeing him holding her like that, looking at her like he was.

“No zoo,” Lola said. She poked her lip out.

Josie didn’t know she could be any more embarrassed and out of place until Tori walked around the corner.

She was pretty—so pretty, blond and gorgeous, even with a cherry-red nose and in her pajamas.

“Hey,” she said. “Man, it was so weird. I had a crazy allergy attack on the subway. Everything smelled like grass and pine, and I just couldn’t stop sneezing. It was miserable, so we turned around about halfway there and came—” Her eyes flew open, her mouth gaping when she caught sight of Josie. “Oh my God.”

Josie reminded herself to breathe, gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline. “I’m just going to wait outside.”

“Don’t be silly. Hi, Josie, right?” Tori closed her mouth and stuck out her hand, her smile welcoming and curious, though her voice was worn from her stuffy nose.

“Hi,” Josie said as she took Tori’s hand, absolutely mortified. She glanced at Jon, who looked equally mortified.

“Come on into the kitchen. Would you like some tea?”

Josie knew it was a peace offering, one she couldn’t refuse, no matter how uncomfortable she was. “Sure, whatever you’re having. Could I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, it’s just down the hallway there.” Tori pointed across the living room.

“Thanks.” Josie laid her bag in the entryway and gave Tori a small smile. But when she turned, she shot laser-kill eyes at Jon.

He looked apologetic. She couldn’t give a single, solitary fuck.

Jon’s daughter grinned from his arms and waved at her, and the frost on Josie’s heart melted. The little girl looked just like him with wavy dark hair and intelligent blue eyes.

“Hiyee. My Lola.” She touched her own chest proudly.

“Hi, Lola.”

When Josie smiled at her, she giggled and tucked her head in the crook of Jon’s neck. At the sight of Jon holding that little girl in his big arm, she found her willpower completely shattered.

She looked away and walked to the bathroom, unwilling to meet Jon’s eyes again, unable to process everything in her heart and mind. So she closed the door and looked in the bathroom mirror, faced with too many realities to recognize her reflection.

She had too many feelings, and none of them agreed with each other. She’d felt so separate, so alien as she watched him with his family. For so long, Josie had villainized Tori and Jon, never really considering their child past a sticking point for her pain. But they were real, not just some faceless offenders. They were real, and she found she couldn’t hate them anymore, couldn’t believe they’d wanted to hurt her. That hadn’t stopped her from using them to hurt herself.

And nothing was as it seemed. Those years had been spent feeding a lie that she built in her own heart, a lie that had been wiped away so quickly, she spun from the force. And there was no time or way to find her footing.

Jon’s anxiety had been stretched tight as a drum as he watched the entire exchange go down, waiting for Josie to freak the fuck out, go nuclear, raze all of them to the ground.

But she’d kept her composure, though it was clearly paper-thin.

The second the bathroom door closed, he entered into a hissing argument with Tori. “What the fuck, Tori?”

“Da fuck, To-wi?” Lola echoed.

“Jesus, Jon, watch your mouth.” She reached for Lola and stood her on the ground. “Go play for a little bit, okay, baby?”

“Okay, Mama.” Lola ran off to her room.

He glared at Tori. “Of all the shit timing.”

“It’s not like I planned it. What in the world is going on? How did you get her here, and what are you up to?” she whispered.

“Jimmy Li found a trace on Rhodes, and we think we know where he’s headed. We’re going after him.”

Tori frowned. “Chasing a serial killer? Tell me why I shouldn’t be freaking out right now.”

“We’re not going to hit any problems bringing him in,” he said, knowing full well the percentages were fifty-fifty at best. “Don’t worry.”

“Well, your confidence is reassuring, but damn, Jon,” she said, the words hushed and uneasy.

“I know, but we’ll be okay. I promise.” He hoped he could keep it.

“So…together? You’re going together?” she asked as her enthusiasm sparked.

“Of course together. Why else would we be here together?”

“God, I don’t know. I’m just surprised she’s even speaking to you, never mind going on a road trip.”

Jon sighed. “You and me both.”

“So did you figure this out on your own? Or did she ask you for help?” Her eyebrows inched up, and a grin split her face.

“Both. I found out and was on my way over to her when she called me.”

Tori was practically bouncing. “Oh my God. This is it, Jon. This is your shot.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know. Don’t you think I know?” He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the toilet flush. “Tori, I swear to God, you’d better not say a word. I don’t need your help, so keep your sledgehammer—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said with the wave of her hands. “Don’t worry, Romeo. I’m not going to do anything to fudge your chances.”

The door opened, and Josie exited the bathroom with her chin high and a mask of composure on her face.

You can do this, Josie said to herself.

She was determined to walk out of the situation with some shred of dignity and repeated one of the many lessons that her grandmother had taught her, “Good manners are made of petty sacrifices.”

Jon and Tori’s heads were together, but they straightened up when they saw her. Jon looked like a rat in a snake den, and Tori gave her another warm smile. Josie tried to give her one back, but it was bullshit; she only hoped Tori couldn’t tell. Josie assessed the pair of them as she approached, noting their body language and proximity, and realized with some certainty that they really weren’t together. She hadn’t even known she’d doubted it before that moment.

Josie watched his eyes bounce uneasily between the two women.

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff. I’ll just be a minute.”

He gave Tori a pointed look, but Tori just kept on smiling as he turned and walked away.

“Come on, Josie,” Tori said benignly. “Let’s see about that tea.”

They walked into the kitchen, and Tori started her teapot.

“How about vanilla chai?”

That sounds terrible.

“Sounds great,” Josie, a coffee girl through and through, said as she took a seat at the table.

Lola came running in with a brush and a Barbie doll and thrust them toward Josie. “You brush the hair for Barbie?”

Tori held her hands out for the doll. “Here, baby, let Mama help you with that.”

The little girl hugged the Barbie and brush to her chest and gave Tori the stink eye. “No.” She took a step closer to Josie.

“It’s okay,” Josie said as she turned to the little girl. “You want me to help you?”

“Yes, pwease.”

Josie smiled as she took the brush and the doll, whose hair was snarled. As she brushed out the Barbie’s mane, Lola laid her hand on Josie’s thigh and leaned in to watch.

“Ooh, so pooty!”

Josie couldn’t help but laugh. “She is something else,” she said to Tori.

Tori was leaning against the counter, watching them with a smile on her face. “That, she is.” She pushed off and sat down across from Josie. “I wanted to tell you, Josie, for what it’s worth…I really am sorry. We never meant—”

Josie held up her hand, unwilling to have that conversation with the manifestation of her pain, who was sitting across from her, offering tea. “Tori, please. Please don’t. It’s just better for all of us if we leave it alone, okay?”

Tori took a breath, her face tight, almost like it physically pained her to stop talking. “Okay. Whatever you want, I owe you that.”

Josie nodded. “Thank you.”

“But, please, if you ever want to talk about it—”

Jon cleared his throat from behind Josie with his eyes on Tori. He’d practically dumped a drawer directly into his bag in the rush to get the two women out of the same room. Josie glanced at him and then back at Tori, who looked mildly cowed but mostly challenging. He wouldn’t be surprised if she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’ve got my stuff, Jo. You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Tori jumped up. “Hang on, let me get your tea to go. Sugar?”

“Just a little,” Josie answered.

Jon watched from the threshold of the kitchen as Tori poured out tea into a paper to-go cup with a little spoon of sugar and handed it over to Josie, who looked like she had a porcupine in her pocket. Tori gave Josie a knowing smile, and Jon shot Tori what he hoped was an authoritative look as Josie thanked her and turned to face him.

Tori gave him two thumbs-up with a stupid grin on her face behind Josie’s back.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll text you and let you know how things are going.”

“All right. You two be careful, okay?”

Lola ran to Jon, and he knelt down.

She looked at him with the biggest blue eyes on the planet. “Bye, Daddy.”

He scooped her into his arms and kissed her cheek, squeezing her tight, holding her close, not knowing how long it would be until he held her again, until he smelled the sweet scent of baby soap and lavender or felt her tiny arms around his neck or her weight against his chest.

Life seemed so much more dangerous when you had something to lose.

“I love you.” He kissed her hair.

“Love you, Daddy.”

He passed the little girl to Tori along with a good-sized portion of his heart. “Call me if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine, Jon. You just take care of yourself. Come back in one piece.”

They smiled at each other, and he nodded.

Josie watched the whole exchange with her heart in her stomach.

Thinking about Jon having a baby and seeing him with her were different things. He was a father. That tiny person was his, and she seemed to make up nearly his entire universe. As desolate as his leaving her had been, she understood why with sudden clarity.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Jon slung his bag over his shoulder and brushed past Josie to open the door.

“Thanks again, Tori,” Josie said as she picked up her bag.

“Anytime, Josie.”

“Bye-bye.” Lola waved her chubby little hand.

“Bye-bye, Lola,” Josie said as she wiggled her fingers at the little girl.

They left his apartment in silence, neither of them speaking until they reached the Jeep in the parking garage. The fluorescent lights hummed above them, and their feet echoed against the concrete as they walked around to her door.

Jon unlocked it but didn’t open it, instead taking the moment to search her face. “I’m sorry, Josie.”

She looked down at her paper cup of tea that the mother of his child had given her, unable to keep herself in check with his eyes on her like that. “It’s fine, Jon.”

His hand moved like he meant to touch her but fell back to his side. “I mean it.”

“I know.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds until it almost broke her, but before she could reach for him, he opened the door and waited for her to climb in. She sat in the Jeep, trying to find composure as he walked around and slipped in beside her, firing his engine with a rumble, and she stared out the window as they drove away.

Before long, the city was behind them as they chased the sun across the sky, relaxing into easy conversation, forgetting the awkwardness, the heaviness that had brought them to that point. Josie felt herself unwind even though she was overly aware of him as he sat next to her, could feel him there, pulling her attention like he was magnetized. But her emotions were muddled, leaving her confounded, because over the course of a few hours, everything in her heart had been rearranged into something new, something she didn’t recognize.

Dita’s mind slipped into consciousness, her limbs heavy, her bed so soft, so warm. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything but lie there forever and ever and ever to the tonal sound of the sleep machine.

The sleep machine.

Her eyes flew open, and she sat up in surprise, her heart racing. She glanced at the clock.

It was two in the afternoon.

“I slept,” she breathed her awe, a smile creeping onto her face.

Bisoux stretched out on his side next to her, his limbs straight and trembling as he locked his muscles. She picked him up, holding him in the air as she laughed like a crazy person.

“I slept!” she crowed, giggling, hugging him to her chest.

She felt like a million bucks. Her body was rested, and for the first time in days, the aching pressure in her chest was gone. She kissed Bisoux and set him down. Then, she hopped out of bed and to the mirror. Her eyes were clear, not a sign of redness or a single shadow under them, and her cheeks had color that had been absent for what felt like ages.

“I fucking slept,” Dita said to her reflection. She and squealed as she did the Flashdance maniac dance all around her bathroom.

She hadn’t had a single dream, not one. No torture, no torment, only sweet, blissful sleep. She had all but forgotten what it was like to be rested.

Bisoux jumped off the bed and ran to her, hopping and barking as she danced.

She scooped him up, unable to stop giggling. “Come on. Let’s go thank your daddy.”

Dita bounded into the elevator humming, bouncing out into Heff’s foyer when the doors opened. She set her dog down, and his nails clicked on the brushed concrete floor as he followed her around, but she couldn’t find Heff. She trotted down the stairs to his workshop, and when she saw him behind a workbench, she took off running.

Heff looked up to see Dita beaming as she flew across the room with her golden hair swinging behind her. He barely had time to put down his soldering iron before she slammed into him, almost knocking him over.

She threw her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her waist, spinning gently from the force, the scent of honeysuckle and roses in every molecule of air, and he closed his eyes, breathing her in, aware of every inch of her pressed against him.

Her arms relaxed a hair, and he took the cue to loosen his grip and drop her to the ground. If she hadn’t let him go first, he would have kept on holding her forever. Her cheeks were flushed, her smile so bright, it could have put the shine on the sun.

“I slept,” she said, breathless, her face full of wonder.

He smiled so wide, he thought his face might split open. “It worked.”

“It worked.” She grinned. “I knew it would. Thank you.” She reached for his hand, slipping her long white fingers into his clumsy, dirty ones.

He squeezed them gently. “I started working on the machine and bracelet after you came to me. I’m sorry I didn’t get it finished sooner, but I had a little trouble with the algorithm to sync it to you.”

“It was perfect. I don’t know how to thank you.”

He brushed her cheek with his free hand and slipped it into her hair, cupping her neck to pull her into his chest. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad it helped.”

Her arm snaked around his waist, and she sighed her contentment. “It did. I needed that so much, and now I feel shiny and new and amazing.”

“Did you tell Perry yet?”

“Not yet. I came here first because I couldn’t do anything until I thanked you.”

He kissed the top of her head, needing to send her away. If he held her too long, he’d start wishing for things he could never have. “Go on. She’ll want to know.”

“Okay,” she answered as she unwound herself. She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before turning and running out of the room, calling “Bye!” over her shoulder.

He watched her go until she was out of sight. And when he picked up his soldering iron again and got back to work, he smiled at his hands until his cheeks ached.

Dita stepped into the elevator again with Bisoux at her heel, toying with her bracelet, relieved that Heff was on the other end of it. Two little clicks, and he would find her. And if he was there, she would be safe.

Safe.

It was a word she barely knew the meaning of anymore.

Armed with that and legitimate sleep, she felt like she could move mountains.

Ares was no match for her. She wouldn’t have to hide or worry or be afraid.

She was free.

When the elevator doors opened into the underworld, her dog ran out, and she followed him, calling Perry’s name.

“Hey,” Perry answered from her living room.

Dita did the Dougie into the room. “I slept, I slept, uh-huh, I slept.” She clapped and got low.

Perry laughed and hopped up. “That’s amazing!”

They danced around, giggling, until they couldn’t breathe and fell down on the couch.

“How?” Perry asked.

“Heff made me a magical, glittery, mystical machine of epic brilliance to help me sleep, and it worked. And now I am back. I’m back!”

“This is the best news.”

“Yes!” Dita threw her fist in the air from where she lay slumped into the couch. “I just woke up.”

“Oh gods,” Perry said with big eyes. “You missed this morning.”

Dita hadn’t even thought about the competition. “Shit.” She looked in on Jon and Josie as they drove through Pennsylvania, and her mouth hung open. She couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. “What the fuck? Oh my…what? How did they…”

“Your plan played out. Jimmy Li called Jon this morning with all of Rhodes’s info.”

“I fucking did it,” she breathed.

Perry nodded with delight. “You fucking did it. I’m glad Heff waited until after you set Jimmy up yesterday with the guy who had gotten Rhodes his papers. You could have cocked that whole thing up.”

“Please. I wouldn’t have passed out until I had my plans in place.”

“Right, like you wouldn’t have slept through all the things that happened this morning.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, ass?” Dita tossed a throw pillow at her.

“I thought you were watching.” Perry threw her hands up, laughing.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well,” Perry said as she re-situated herself, “Li called Jon with the info on Rhodes. And then Josie had a breakdown when she realized she was at a dead end and called Jon, but he was already on his way over.”

“Yesssssss,” she hissed.

“Yeah, but then, when they went to Jon’s apartment, Tori was there.”

Dita’s chin dropped. “How did that go?”

“Surprisingly not bad. I mean, as good as it could go. Josie had an epiphany about Jon and the baby and everything. Oh, Tori wasn’t supposed to be there. Artemis intercepted and gave Tori an allergy attack to send her home. I think that’s everything.”

“Ha! I love a good backfire.”

They glanced in on Jon as he laughed at something Josie had said.

“I hope Artemis feels like an idiot. This is so freaking perfect. They’re going to be alone in a car for days, staying in hotels. Together.”

“It’s your chance. What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been living in a vacuum for a week.” She let out a breath. “Perry, I can’t tell you how much better I feel. It’s like I was buried alive.”

“Well, what do you want to do first?”

“Man, I don’t even know.”

“Well, I was about to go see Daphne. Wanna come with?”

Dita clapped her hands, which was totally ridiculous and she didn’t even care. “Yes!”

“Okay, let me go say bye to Hades,” Perry said as she peeled herself off the couch before heading to his office off the living room.

“Aw, you guys are so cute.”

“Yeah, King and Queen of the Dead. Adorable.” Perry rolled her eyes as she pushed open the massive, carved mahogany doors and disappeared inside for a moment.

Dita hummed, smiling as she watched the fire from the couch, feeling silly and light and amazing, and when Perry appeared again, Dita stood, and they made their way to Apollo’s apartment.

They found Apollo and Daphne lying on the floor, playing backgammon. The sunshine poured in through his wall of windows, and Central Park stretched off into the distance.

Daphne smiled as she stood to embrace Dita. Daphne’s curly red hair smelled like sunshine and wild basil.

“Aphrodite, how are you feeling? You look like you might have finally gotten some rest.”

“I did, thanks to Heff. I’ve missed you.” Dita held her at arm’s length to look her over. “You look amazing. This dress.”

Daphne looked down at her loose white slip dress, lined with lace chevron stripes along the bottom third. “Thank you. I’m learning,” she answered with a smile.

Apollo hugged Dita, landing a kiss on her cheek. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good. Just been watching Jon and Josie after getting the best night’s sleep of my life.”

Dita and Perry sat on the couch, and Apollo and Daphne took their spots on his white shag rug.

“What have you two been up to?” Dita asked.

“Not a lot,” Apollo answered. “Been watching the game. This morning was pretty epic, and Jon, well…he’s something else. I don’t know that Josie really stands a chance.”

“She really doesn’t, does she?”

Apollo chuckled. “Artemis is even worse at the game than I am.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” Dita smiled.

“True, though Artemis won’t hear logic on Josie—or anything else for that matter.”

“Oh?”

Apollo sighed. “She’s not speaking to me.”

Daphne laid her hand on his knee and leaned into him.

“I didn’t know you fought. What happened?” Dita asked.

“She implied that I chose you over her,” Apollo said as he wrapped his arm around Daphne.

Anger and guilt stirred in Dita’s chest at the thought. “Apollo, I would never put myself between the two of you.”

“You didn’t. I stuck up for you and called her on her shit. She didn’t take it well.”

“Well, thank you. But you didn’t have to do that.”

“I did, and it’ll be fine. It’s not the first time we’ve disagreed, and I doubt it will be the last. She knows that I will always back her up, but she used you as a diversion when I mentioned Orion.”

Dita shook her head. “She’s never going to get over it if she doesn’t face it.”

“Pot, kettle.”

She scoffed. “This is different. All of this just happened to me. Artemis has had thousands of years.”

“You know that she doesn’t accept change very well, and she doesn’t talk about anything—ever—just makes her judgments and buries all her feelings like rotten seeds. She feels justified. You can’t talk sense to someone who’s been rightly pissed off about something for thousands of years. I think we both can attest to that.”

“Yeah, I guess we can.” She tugged at her hair. “I mean, I kind of get it. How do you face such loss? All we can do is try to get through each day, face each challenge that we come across, and listen to ourselves. Time. That’s what people keep telling me. But if Artemis has been ripped to shreds for thousands of years, what hope is there for me?”

Apollo spoke cautiously. “Do you think that your feelings for Ares and Adonis are the same as the love Artemis felt for Orion?”

She considered that, and a heavy, cold feeling snaked through her chest, into her stomach. “No, I suppose you’re right,” she answered, her voice flat. “I’m coming to realize that my feelings are wrapped in fear and guilt, and the love that I thought I had for Ares and Adonis was false. Artemis and Orion had a pure love, based on respect and companionship.” The words made her sad at all that she had missed, though there was a glimmer of hope that her pain wouldn’t last tens of centuries.

“Well, you’re the universal expert on love. How does she get over it?”

“Normally, I would suggest dating, but that’s off the table for Artemis. I’m sure her feelings for Orion were a one-time occurrence for her.” She ran a finger across her lip. “Really, she needs to talk about it or find a way out of the fog and to her truth. Maybe we could help her—talk to her, try to guide her.”

“We’d have better luck trying to teach a goat how to tap dance like Gene Kelly.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“Wait.” Apollo’s eyebrow quirked. “Are we talking about the goat or Artemis?”

“Both,” she said with a laugh.

Josie’s bare feet rested on the dash, and her computer lay open on her lap as they drove through Pennsylvania. The sun had slipped down in the cloudless sky, burning a gradient of tangerine and yellows to purples and blues, up and away behind her. Her hair whipped around her face, and she twisted it up into a fresh bun before checking her hotspot connection.

“Want me to put up the windows?” Jon asked over Waylon Jennings wailing about a good-hearted woman.

When she met his eyes, she knew he’d been watching her and felt herself flush. “No, it’s so nice out.”

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Because she had purpose once more. She had a goal and a task and a busy mind and full hands, and it was absolutely, utterly glorious. And she had Jon sitting a few feet away, looking at her like he was, with one hand hooked casually on the wheel and his hair fluttering around his face.

She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Well, I just sent the fax to all the cash motels along both routes and marked all the ones where I think he might have stopped based on travel speed and the time of day he might drive through. I’m about to call those directly and see if I can get someone on the phone.”

“Is Hank sending Walker and Davis this way?”

“He can’t. The information we have on Rhodes isn’t official evidence, so we’re on our own until we get a sighting on him.”

Jon nodded. “And hopefully your dad won’t kill me for dragging you across the country, chasing a serial rapist.”

“Well, let’s be honest. It’s not like he could have really stopped me. When do you want to stop for rest?”

“If you’re okay to drive, I think we should try to stop tomorrow.”

“You’re going to let me drive?” Her eyebrow inched up.

“Only out of necessity. Don’t get any big ideas.” His smile tilted lazily.

“Will you sleep with one eye open?”

“Why don’t you just assume I will?”

Josie laughed and settled into her seat, noting with a certain amount of surprise that she was enjoying herself. She was relaxed, relieved to be in motion. Some of it was certainly adrenaline from the hunt. The rest of it was Jon. Being around him was easy, just like it had been before.

Before.

It seemed so long ago with the soft sunset painting the sky and promise riding the crisp spring air. And she found she didn’t have a single desire to look back.

With every thump of Pegasus’s wings against the wind and the heave of his body in answer, Artemis found herself closer and closer to memories she only wanted to forget.

They flew over mountains capped with snow and over the lake far below, sparkling and shimmering in the wide valley. Everything seemed so small, but it was only her who had changed her viewpoint.

Artemis leaned forward, laying her cheek against his mane, watching the land pass by beneath her, the wind whipping her hair and her robes as the wind rushed past. And her heart lit fire in her chest as she was reminded of Gaia, the Earth herself, and the day Artemis had lost her love.

It was the day she had lost herself.

The heat was oppressive that day. Artemis’s damp hair stuck to her neck as she and Orion trudged through the woods, laughing and talking with Sirius at their heels.

He held a branch out of her way and waited for her to pass with a bow. “My Lady,” he said with a flourish.

She laughed. “So regal,” she teased as her cheeks burned a degree hotter.

Everything had changed since they kissed.

Their bond was stronger, so strong that Artemis knew it couldn’t be denied, and the notion of naming it, of stating what she knew to be true, was more than she could agree to.

But when she was near him, everything was so simple, so easy, so perfectly right. When they were together, there were no questions, no expectations. She was not Goddess of the Hunt. She was only a woman, and he was only a man.

The truth of the circumstance was that she did have responsibilities, expectations.

Because regardless of what she felt when she was with Orion, she was The Maiden, forever bound to her maidenhood. Her Oceanids were bound to theirs, had sacrificed their futures to be with her. And her father…

She shivered in the blazing heat at the thought of her father’s wrath. If ever she chose to walk away from her vows, she would also betray Zeus’s blessing. Her maidenhood granted her the life she wanted, the freedom she desired above all else.

But walking away from her vows was all she found she wanted, spurring questions that clamored constantly in her mind, demanding answers.

Could she be with Orion? Would he want her, could he love her? Could she give herself to him, body and soul? And what would it mean for all of them if she did?

What had once been black and white melted and mixed and changed, and all the lines and boundaries that had guided her were gone.

But as she walked with Orion that day, as she laid her gaze upon his face, she knew a fact that was beyond all doubt and reason.

She was most assuredly in love.

“How many animals do you think there are in the world?” Orion asked.

“Oh, an unknowable number.” Artemis ducked under a branch and ducked away from her thoughts, grateful for a distraction. “Hundreds of millions at least.”

“Do you think we could kill them all?”

She considered. “Well, I suppose so. It would take centuries, but between the two of us, I am sure we could. If you could only choose one weapon, which would you choose?”

“Hmm,” he said as he stepped over a log. “Bow. Otherwise, how could we kill the creatures who fly?”

“Well, if we are together in this, then I would choose a spear. A bow would be unwieldy underwater,” she mused. “Whatever would we do once they were all dead?”

He smirked at her. “Oh, I am certain we could find something to occupy us.”

She opened her mouth to speak, the flush on her cheeks having nothing to do with the heat, but before she could say a word, the ground beneath their feet rumbled and pitched, knocking them off balance and sending them to their knees as Sirius barked madly.

“Artemis, Daughter of Zeus.” Gaia’s voice came from all directions. A rock face in front of them morphed, and Gaia’s face appeared, her eyes glowing like coals. “My children are sacred, hallowed, protected, and you speak of their slaughter as if it were a game. I will not stand for this. You will do them no harm.”

Artemis picked herself up, her hands in front of her and voice strong and sure. “Gaia, we were only—”

“Silence! You mock me with your games, but you are nothing more than insolent fleas who crawl along my back.” Gaia boomed, and the earth shook again.

Artemis narrowed her eyes. “We have done no wrong, and you are too quick to anger.”

“Who are you, child of Olympus, to judge the mother of all things?”

“I only observe. My father is the one who passes judgment.”

“Your father,” she hissed, “the son of The Usurper, Kronos, does not judge me. None shall judge me. And when Zeus killed the sky, my love, my Uranus, he stole my life,” she wailed. “He stole my heart, stole all I’d held dear, and I am alone, alone.”

“And perhaps that solitude has edged you to madness.”

“You insult me? You threaten that which I have created, child of Olympus. You plot to murder my children, you who are charged with protecting them! You have lost your way, and you must be stopped.”

The ground before them thundered and rose, cracking and crumbling as the surface mounded. A gigantic claw broke from the ground and then another, and out of the earth rose a scorpion the height of three men, its tail the height of six. It hissed and charged, and the air rang with Gaia’s laughter.

Sirius edged back, barking, teeth snapping as Artemis pulled her bow and nocked an arrow, and Orion stood with his spear at the ready. Gaia was powerful enough that even Artemis was not immune. She could be harmed, but worse, Orion could be killed.

Her heart drummed its warning, and there was nothing to do but fight.

The scorpion skittered around, its long legs puncturing the earth, its eyes hard and shining as it loomed over them. And without warning, its tail flew forward, driving into the ground between them. Rocks and dirt flew as it pulled its stinger out, and it hovered over them like the tip of an arrow.

The feather on her arrow brushed her cheek as she loosed, the arrow puncturing one of its beady eyes. The monster let out a shriek, and Orion’s spear slipped into its maw, lodging in its skull.

The scorpion screamed again—the pitch high enough to rattle Artemis’s head—and crushed the spear in its jaw, unswayed, undeterred. Artemis nocked another arrow and drew her bow as quickly as the beast turned on her.

His stinger came down faster than she could move.

Everything slowed, as if time had all but stopped, as she looked up at the point, at her fate, at the end.

And then everything flew sideways as Orion slammed into her. When she hit the ground, the air blew out of her lungs, leaving them burning and empty, her vision dark and bursting with flashes.

She gasped for air, blinking away stars, and when she could see him, she knew. And nothing would ever, ever be the same.

Crimson blood pooled in the dust beneath him, spreading with each beat of his heart.

“No!” she screamed, rage crawling up her body, up her neck, over her cheeks. She roared, pulling her longsword as she charged the beast, dodging its legs until she stood in the cool of his shadow.

She jumped with her powers at her back, sword raised, sliding the blade between plates of armor with a crunch.

It screeched and stumbled, and she swung her legs, using her weight to drag the sword and open it up. It began to collapse, and she flung herself off and away, barely escaping its massive body as it slammed to the ground with a quake.

She didn’t hear the groans and whines of the creature as it languished, not with every piece of her focused on Orion.

He was still and gray, his hand limp on his stomach, his blood soaking into the thirsty ground with Sirius whimpering next to him. Artemis called his name as she fell to the ground at his side, her hands on his chest, her eyes searching his face, his body, looking for anything, any way to help him, to fix him. And every question, every doubt was banished. Because nothing mattered, nothing but him.

His eyes were on her as he took a labored breath. “There is…no time. Artemis…please…”

“Wait, please,” she begged, her voice unrecognizable. “Please, let me summon Apollo. He can help you. He can save you.”

She tried to pull away, but he reached for her hand.

“No. Do not leave me.” Another breath, this one more ragged. “Please, I must…I want…”

“Anything,” she breathed. “Anything.”

“Kiss me.”

And she did. She pressed her warm lips to his cool ones, her tears sliding down her cheeks and onto his.

When she broke away, she looked into his eyes, eyes she would love until time ceased and the stars were no more.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“As I love you,” she whispered back.

And then he was gone.

That night, when the moon was high, Artemis brought Orion to the top of the large stone over her favorite pond, her Oceanids circling the boulder, their faces turned up to the stars. He had been cleaned and dressed, the flowers laid in his hair, his face soft and calm, hands still at his sides.

She knelt by his side, unable to speak. She cupped her hands over his heart, her tears unending as her palms filled with light, white and cool, brighter and brighter. And then the light consumed him, separated, splitting, hovering over her palm. One by one, she placed them on the tip of an arrow, aimed at the endless sky, and fired toward the horizon, placing him among the stars forever, at the edge of the world where he could always be seen, where she could never forget him.

The wind rushed against Artemis’s cheek, streaking her tears. For so long, for thousands of years since he had died, she’d been adrift, floating through her life with no anchor. Her love for Orion was left loose and flying, the ends never cut or tied, and she longed for purpose, something in which she could put her faith when everything else was undefined.

Artemis ached for comfort, and her thoughts turned to her mother, who lived at the edge of the lake below her. Leto always made her feel better, no matter the situation, and it had been too long since Artemis saw her.

Her mother would make things seem brighter.

She ran her hand down Pegasus’s neck and pointed to the edge of the great sparkling lake below, and he reared his head in answer and dived for Leto’s home.

The green hills grew larger, the mountains rising up to meet them until they approached her castle.

It was small in the way of castles with small turrets that reached up to the heavens and hatched glass windows. Stone walkways and balconies rounded the house, and Leto stepped out of one, tall and regal, the gold lining of her white robes shimmering in the sunlight. She waved like a queen as Pegasus’s hooves touched the ground.

Artemis dismounted and ran her hand down his jaw. He whinnied before kicking off the ground, his wings stirring up dust in a cloud.

Leto bounded out of the entrance with open arms. “Artemis.”

“Mother.” The warmth of their embrace lightened her heart, earning a sigh that lessened the weight of her burdens.

Leto pulled away, smiling, her cheeks rosy. Her diadem sparkled atop her crown, her long blond hair waving down her back. “I am so pleased to see you; it has been too long. Come inside. Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

Artemis smiled and followed Leto into the kitchen, feeling like a girl as she always did when in her mother’s presence. Of all the places in all the world, it was the only one where she felt safe and free, released from her responsibilities, able to just be.

Leto reached for a block of ambrosia on the shelf and transformed it into a steaming loaf of bread. She sliced a piece off, drizzled honey on it, and placed it on a plate before sliding it across the worn wooden table to Artemis.

“How are you, darling?” Leto asked.

The bread melted in her mouth, the honey thick and sweet against her tongue, and a groan escaped her. “Admittedly better now.”

Leto laughed and propped her head on her hand as she watched her daughter with sparkling blue eyes. “So, all is not well?”

Artemis’s brows furrowed as she swallowed another bite. “I am competing with Aphrodite, and the outcome is…unknown.”

“Ah.” Leto nodded, though she still looked amused. “Competitions with Aphrodite have always nettled you.”

“She and I do not see eye-to-eye.”

“No, you do not. What is the current dilemma?”

Artemis huffed. “I have been cut off at every turn. Every effort has been batted away, and now, my player is in close confines with Aphrodite’s for at least the next few days. My chance, my only chance, was to keep them apart. And my play, my one play, was turned around on me by Aphrodite. She is now at a gross advantage.”

“I see,” Leto said with a nod.

“And I am alone in the competition. Everyone has abandoned me.”

“Everyone?”

“Eleni and Apollo,” Artemis answered, realizing she sounded like a child.

“Hmm. Everyone.” Leto’s eyes were merry, and agitation crawled under Artemis’s skin.

“Apollo took sides, and he did not choose mine.”

“Well, dearest, Aphrodite did just return Daphne to him.”

“Gods, not you, too.” She set her bread down and glared at her mother. “Yes, she returned Daphne—after she tortured him for thousands of years.”

“Granted, but does sacrifice have a time limitation? Is the act any less noble in that it took time to come to fruition?”

“It shows lack of character.”

Leto laid her hand on Artemis’s. “Your brother would never betray you. He only wants what is best for you, as do we all.”

Artemis stood and walked across the room, stopping at the window to look across the open water, listening to the waves lap the shore. “Mother, is it possible to leave your pain behind when you have been through so much?”

Leto followed Artemis and leaned against the wall next to the window, facing her daughter. She tucked a stray hair behind Artemis’s ear. “I do believe this. How could I not? I have lived almost all of my existence surviving one trial after another. I have been chased and hunted. I have had to fight for everything I love, for everything I believe in. If Hera had her way, I would have been dead long ago. Only since we have lived here have I found true peace. And do you know what has guided me through all of that?”

Leto waited until Artemis turned to look into her eyes before continuing“Hope.” Leto smiled. “I look forward, not behind me. I enjoy every moment because I have lived through so many I thought would be my last. You cannot live your life looking back, considering things that you can never change.”

Artemis reached for Leto, who stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling lost and reassured, wondering what kind of life she could live if she could only be as brave as her mother.

Because she didn’t know if she had the strength to turn around and look forward, not when everything she loved was behind her.

DAY 10

JON LEANED TOWARD HIS open window, welcoming the cold air whipping his skin. It was the closest he could get to a slap in the face.

It was three in the morning, and the road rolled under him, the lines hypnotizing as they disappeared under the Jeep in a steady beat that was almost audible. They had just driven through Chicago, and he was hurting for sleep with heavy limbs and a creaky brain.

He glanced over at Josie.

She lay curled up in her seat with a Mexican blanket over her and her head propped on the window as they bounced down the highway. She had only been asleep a few hours, and he wanted to give her as much time as he could. They’d be no good if at least one of them didn’t get some decent rest.

The worry and stress had been erased from her face as she slept, and she looked like a girl, peaceful and without a care. Emotion welled up in him as he imagined a different world, one where he could touch her hair like he wanted to so badly in that moment, to kiss her rosy cheek, warm from the heater. To pull her into his lap and hold her, protect her.

After the day they’d spent together, he was optimistic about his chances for redemption for the first time in three years. He’d been practically giddy, unable to believe that she was sitting next to him, smiling and open. Accessible. She’d been fighting him for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to make her smile, to see her happy in any form.

He hit a pothole, and the Jeep jolted.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath for not paying attention.

Josie stirred, pulling a deep breath through her nose. She blinked and looked at the clock. “Hey,” she said, her voice rough from sleep.

“Hey, sorry about that. Go back to sleep, Jo.”

“S’okay. I’m up.” She shifted in her seat and stretched her legs and neck as she took another deep breath. “Can we stop for coffee? We can switch places so you can get some rest.”

“You sure? I can keep going.” He would, too, bone tired or not.

“Yeah. You’ve been driving for”—she squinted at the clock—“thirteen hours. Holy shit. You should have woken me.”

Jon smiled sideways. “It’s all right. I really don’t mind.”

Josie looked over his tired face, illuminated by the dash. He leaned on the steering wheel like it was keeping him upright, and his hair was tied back in a small, messy ponytail, which somehow didn’t look douchey. In fact, it looked the exact opposite of douchey. Loose hair blew around his face, and he tucked a particularly aggressive strand behind his ear. She blinked stupidly before pulling her phone out to pretend to check the map as he pulled off the interstate and into a huge Flying J.

He parked the car, and they stepped out into the island of fluorescent lights in the dark night. Josie reached up over her head and yawned before following Jon inside, who was dragging ass.

Sweet ass, she thought.

But she caught herself and rolled her eyes.

Once through the automatic doors, she walked directly to the coffeemaker and picked up the biggest cup they had. She filled it to the brim with hazelnut brew and dumped in a couple of packets of sugar. When she took a sip, she made a face. It was terrible.

She was too tired to care.

Josie wandered around the massive store, looking at the trucker hats and dream catchers. She spun around a display of magnets and sipped her coffee for a second before walking around some more. When she came across Jon, he was flipping through postcards with a couple of energy drinks under his arm.

He picked up one with a cat on it that said, Meow’s the time.

“For Lola?” Josie guessed.

“She’s obsessed with cats.” He shrugged.

“Jon, she really is just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” Jon answered with a smile at the corner of this mouth.

“I…I’m glad I met her today. Tori, too.”

“Me too, Jo.”

She didn’t know what else to say, and Jon didn’t press her, just smiled at her with understanding and turned for the counter.

He laid his haul down and pulled out his wallet. “Add her coffee to that, too.”

“Thanks.” Josie couldn’t remember the last time a man had bought her anything, even coffee. The realization depressed her.

They walked back out to the Jeep, and she held out her hand for the keys.

He pulled them out of the front pocket of his jeans, looking conflicted. “You sure you don’t want to sleep?”

“Nah, I’m good. It’s your turn. You sure you can handle me driving your Jeep?”

Jon laughed. “As tired as I am right now, that’s about the last thing I’m worried about. I know you can handle it.”

He stepped toward her and laid the keys in her hand, and her palm tingled when his fingers grazed her skin. Their eyes locked, and they stood there for a moment before she looked down and sorted through the keys.

“All right,” she said with her eyes on her hands, not wanting to make eye contact again.

When he turned, she snuck a look at him as she made her way to the driver’s side and unlocked the door. She leaned over the seat and put her coffee in the cupholder. Then, she hauled herself in and slipped the key in the ignition just as Jon climbed in next to her.

He laid his head against the headrest and looked over at Josie as she started the car, adjusted the mirrors, moved the seat up. When she looked over and caught him looking, she thought he was suppressing a smile.

“What? You’re like a foot taller than me.”

“I didn’t say a thing, Josie.” He smirked and folded his arms across his chest, shifting down to get comfortable. “Wake me up if you get sleepy.”

“I will.”

“Where are we stopping?” he asked.

“Rapid City, if we can make it that far. We should get there tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, we can eat and get cleaned up, maybe catch a nap.”

“Sounds about like heaven right now.” His voice was heavy as she pulled out of the truck stop and made for the highway.

She commandeered the radio, plugging in her phone and starting her Go-Go driving mix. An electropop song came on, and Jon huffed.

“Got something to share, Jon?”

“I don’t know how you listen to that.”

“Well, I don’t know how you survive on country music from the sixties, so we’re even.”

He snorted a laugh.

“Jon, we’ve been listening to Merle Haggard all day. Please, give me this.”

“Fair enough.”

Josie smiled as he shifted again and closed his eyes. He was snoring softly within minutes.

She drove and sipped her coffee, oddly content in the quiet of the night, comforted by his presence next to her. The next few days would be long and rough as they fought to make up ground on Rhodes, and fear flitted through her again when she questioned whether or not they would find him at all.

They hadn’t heard from a single motel on the list, but she tried not to consider that fact. She couldn’t do a one thing about it. Instead, she focused on imagining scenarios in which they caught him. She pictured chasing him with her gun drawn, wondering if he had a firearm and how quick he’d be to use it if he did. Rhodes had nothing to lose, and men like that were dangerous.

She looked over at Jon, barely lit by the dash and the passing headlights. His face was soft as he slept, his body tall and sturdy in the seat next to her, and she was grateful for him. For his company. For his help.

She’d been so alone for so long that she forgot what it was like to have a companion, a friend. But it was more than that, she knew. Those old feelings she’d pretended were long gone stirred in her chest, feelings that reminded her of before. Feelings that scared her.

He hurt you. He left you. He chose her, she told herself.

But she found the power of the words faded like paper in the sun every time she repeated them.

Josie drove all night with her thoughts tumbling around her head. There was so much to sort through, and when left alone to consider it all, she found herself overwhelmed and unsure, like she was being pulled into quicksand. It was Rhodes, the chase, the case, the fear. It was Anne, the memories of her invading Josie’s mind, ratcheting her anxiety that they wouldn’t catch him. And Jon, her feelings for him too loud to ignore.

By ten in the morning, Josie’s eyes burned, the blazing sun rising behind her as they approached Sioux Falls, South Dakota, which was the last decent-sized city for two states. The sun had been up in full force for hours, and she’d been contemplating digging out her sunglasses for at least one of those but didn’t want to wake Jon.

When her burning corneas would no longer be silenced, she finally caved.

She bit her lip and reached behind Jon’s reclined seat for her bag, finding the opening to slip her hand in. She leaned awkwardly across the armrest, her back cramping as she fished around for her sunglasses but came up empty. There was no leaning any further over either, not without letting go of the wheel, so she bit her lip as she found the strap of the bag and gave it a good tug, trying to maintain some gentility. The force jostled his seat despite her efforts, and he stirred.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted as she sat back down, defeated.

“Fuck, Jo, I’m sorry. What time is it?” He scrunched up his face as he looked at the clock on the dash, trying to make out the time. “You should have woken me.”

“It’s all right. Did you get some rest?”

“Yeah, a bit. You doin’ okay?”

“I feel like I belong in The Evil Dead, but I’m hanging in there. Let’s stop for breakfast if you’re hungry?”

“Starvin’.” He shifted and straightened his seat back. He glanced around. “Where are we?”

“Just outside of Sioux Falls.” She reached back and dragged her bag into her lap.

“I wonder how far we are behind him.”

“I don’t know. Hopefully, we’ll get a call from one of the motels on the list.” Her fingers grazed her glasses, and she pulled them out of her bag, slipping them onto her face with relief.

“Well, you sent it to about a hundred. I hope that we get at least one call.”

The comment filled her with unease. “I actually sent it to closer to three hundred, but as of right now, he would have stopped at only four out of all of those. There’s no way every hotel saw it or cared,” she said, beginning to realize something very crucial, something she hadn’t fully considered. “Half of them probably went into the trash, and if they didn’t, who’s to say it was even posted somewhere another attendant would see it?” She just kept rambling, suddenly feeling like their entire plan was futile.

They were chasing a ghost.

“Don’t think that way, Jo. We’ll just stick to the plan. There’s really only one way into Washington from here. We can head him off in Spokane and work backward. We’ll get a lead. I’m certain of it.”

“It’s going to be close, Jon, because we are working with a lot of what-ifs.”

“Something will pan out. I have to believe that.”

“What if we don’t make it? What if—”

“We will. Let’s focus on making sure you talk to somebody at every cash motel, starting with Spokane. Go through your list again, and call the ones you couldn’t get ahold of. If we can make sure that every one of them knows he’s coming and that there’s money in it for them if they call us, I have to believe somebody’ll take us up on it and rat Rhodes out.”

“But what if he’s not even on this route? I mean, what if he’s in Tijuana or California or—”

“We’ve been through all this, Jo,” he answered.

She took a breath, comforted for the moment at least.

“It’s gonna be okay. This is the best we’ve got, so let’s see it through. We’ll figure out what’s next when we get there. All right?”

Josie nodded with her eyes on the road, pushing her nerves away as they exited the highway and made for the Waffle House just off the service road.

They climbed out of the Jeep, and Josie tried not to think of Rhodes. Her arms and legs ached, her hips and knees stiff from sitting so long, and she considered finding a patch of grass to do yoga on, but she was too tired to bother.

She caught sight of Jon as he stretched with his eyes closed and arms in the air. His elbows popped as he arched his back, and his shirt lifted up to show the V his hips made down into his jeans. She caught herself biting her lip and smoothed her face before he opened his eyes.

She followed him to the door, which he held open for her, and they sat down at a booth. Her mind was still on Rhodes, and unease sank into her bones, into her brain, as she sat across from Jon.

“You’re still worrying, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He looked into her eyes, his irises deep and blue. “Do you trust me, Josie?”

The question caught her off guard. Did she trust him? It was such a simple question. If he had asked her two days before, she would have said no without even needing to consider, but that had changed.

The thought upset her. All that she knew about him and about how she felt about him had been demolished, and now, she had to rebuild on the rubble of what had once been there.

Even still, she knew the answer. She’d always known the answer. “I trust you.”

“We’re going to find him. If not through this route, then through the next one or the one after that.”

He believed every word, and his conviction broke her heart open.

She could only nod.

They ordered breakfast and went over their plans, falling into silence when their food hit the table. Josie pushed her food around her plate as memories flooded her mind, uncorked by the awareness of how much she’d changed since Anne died. She was obsessed, consumed, her life no longer recognizable.

She justified it, her reasoning so familiar, so old and so worn that it had lost its heat and meaning.

Moments flashed through her thoughts. Following Rhodes around his life every day. Hannah lying on a slab in a body bag. Anne as Josie had found her that night, the sound of dripping water.

What terrified her most was when she saw herself from the outside, lonely and alone, possessed by her desire to find an end. Something essential in her had splintered and fractured, burst into pieces, and the shards would cut anyone who tried to touch her. They were protection, and they were her cage. She was too broken to love, too wounded to heal, and no one knew because no one could help her.

But of everyone in the world, Josie knew Jon understood.

Her heart cracked open a slit, calling his name. She wanted him. She wanted him now as much as she’d always wanted him.

Everything she’d thought she knew about herself—about what she wanted, about how she felt and what she needed—was wrong.

And she had no control over anything.

Panic wound through her chest, climbed up her throat. It was all too much, the room too bright and too hot as sweat beaded on her forehead, her lungs burning like she was drowning. She tried to swallow down her hysteria, holding her breath for a few seconds to break up the panic attack slowly taking her over, pulling her under.

Josie pushed her coffee away and downed the small glass of water. She reached for her fork and tried to take a bite of her breakfast. The potatoes were like sandpaper in her mouth, and the thought alone of the eggs made her stomach churn. The sounds of the diner were amplified, the clinking of plates and silverware assaulting her ears. She laid her fork down and sat back in her seat as every bite she had eaten raced back up.

She swallowed hard.

Jon eyed her. “You okay, Jo? You’re looking a little green.”

Josie smiled, trying for reassuring. “Yeah, just need a minute. I’ll be right back.”

She laid her napkin on the table and raced for the restroom, closing the door behind her as soon as she was across the threshold. She leaned against it and closed her eyes.

You’re having a panic attack. You’re not going to have a heart attack. Just breathe.

She opened her eyes and walked to the sinks, her reflection green and pale under the fluorescent lights of the diner restroom. The water was ice-cold. She rinsed her face and wet a few paper towels, pressing them to the back of her neck, hoping to all that was holy that she wasn’t about to get on her hands and knees and hug porcelain in a Waffle House.

The way out was to rationalize. If she could quantify her worry, she would calm down, she knew.

The first panic attack she’d had after Anne died scared her so badly, she’d almost called 911. But by the sixth, she had known how to survive it.

So she started with Rhodes, the one logical piece of the puzzle. There was nothing to control and nothing else to be done. They’d deployed every plan they had. Everything was in motion. They would catch him, or they wouldn’t, and whatever the outcome was, she would have to move forward.

But moving forward was a dream, a mirage, a fantasy. She didn’t know if she would ever heal, didn’t even know how to live a normal life anymore. She didn’t understand how she could participate in a world where Anne was gone and Rhodes was free.

But for the first time since Anne had died, she remembered what it was like to live. Jon had given that to her.

All Jon had done since he came back was try to help, try to be there for her—even when she’d pushed him away. He’d never given up, and she didn’t believe he ever would. But she didn’t know how to let him in or if she could. Not after everything she’d been through. Not after losing Anne. After losing herself.

The cool water dripped down her neck and into the sink as she stared down at the holes in the drain. She pulled in a deep breath, trying to calm her frantic heart, hoping it was only fatigue that had pushed her to the edge. Maybe she’d wake up feeling better with a fresh perspective and a handle on her emotions.

But she didn’t know if it would be enough. Because she might never let go of her past, might never find a way to stitch herself back together to be a part of the world again.

Josie was in the bathroom long enough that Jon almost flagged the waitress to check on her, but she dragged herself back to the table, looking like a rag doll, before he had a chance.

He opened his mouth to speak as soon as she sat down. “Jo—”

She held up a hand. “I know. I’m fine, really. I’m just so tired. I’ll be right as soon as I get some rest.”

He didn’t believe a word but didn’t push her. “You barely ate. Want anything to go?”

She looked like she might vomit and shook her head.

Jon dug the keys out of his pocket and passed them across the table. “Go on and get settled in while I pay our bill.”

“I have cash.” She fumbled for her bag.

“Just go on, and I’ll get this one. You can get the next one.”

She just nodded and slipped out of the booth. The fact that she hadn’t argued worried him more than anything.

He waited in line and paid for their breakfast, trying to figure out what was the matter as he compiled a list of questions for when they got on the road again. But by the time he reached the Jeep, she was already tucked under the blanket, asleep and looking feverish. She didn’t even stir when he started the car.

As they drove through South Dakota, Josie mumbled and shifted in her sleep. Every second of her distress ratcheted his anxiety, and he worried over if it was just Rhodes she was upset about or if there was more to it.

Her legs jerked, jolting his pacing thoughts. He looked over at her when she whimpered and turned his eyes to scan the upcoming exit, looking for a place to stop. He spotted a motel just off the interstate in a tiny town ahead.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled as he took the exit.

When the Jeep came to a stop in front of the office, she cracked her eyes open.

“Are we there?” Her voice was scratchy and dry.

“We stopped early. You need real sleep, Jo.”

She sat up, huffing, and waved him off. “I’m fine.”

His brows dropped with his tone. “No, you’re not. Don’t argue with me, all right? Just this once?”

She looked back at Jon, weary and beaten. “All right. I won’t fight you.”

“It’s a miracle. Stay here, and I’ll get us a room.”

He exited the car and made his way into the small office to find a skinny kid behind the counter in a T-shirt that said, I only sleep with the best, with the name of the hotel underneath it. He smiled a toothy grin, and as Jon approached, he thought it was strange that the entire lobby smelled like roses when there wasn’t a single flower in sight.

“Hello, sir. How are you today?”

“Tired.” Jon leaned on the counter and pulled out his wallet. “I need a room with two double or queen beds.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, but there’s a family reunion in town this week, and the rooms we have left only have a king and a couch.”

Jon ran a hand over his mouth. Josie wouldn’t be happy about there being only one bed and would probably assume he did it on purpose, but they didn’t have a choice. He’d give her the bed, and he would take the couch.

Anything beat a bucket seat in his Jeep.

“I’ll take it.” He handed over his card.

“Sounds good.”

The kid ran his card and checked him in before giving him the keys, pointing him in the general direction of their room. Jon thanked him and walked back to the car, eyeing Josie, who was leaning against the window with heavy lids.

“Bad news,” he said as he climbed in and started the Jeep. “There’s only one bed.”

“Fuck, are you kidding me?” She groaned and gave him a look.

“No, there’s some family reunion going on.” He pulled around to park near the stairs where their room was.

“Only in Bumscrew, South Dakota.”

“Don’t worry, Jo. There’s a couch. I’ll be fine there.” He parked the car, and they both got out.

“Don’t be an idiot, Jon. You’re six foot four. Just sleep in the bed with me, but remember, if you touch me, I’ll break every bone in whichever limb disobeys.”

He laughed as he grabbed their bags. “Noted.”

They dragged themselves into the hotel, and Josie rummaged around in her bag for her pajamas and toiletries.

“Shower,” she grumbled as she headed for the bathroom.

Jon plugged in their phones and Josie’s laptop before prepping the room for sleep, closing the curtains and adjusting the furnace. All the while, he worried over her, hoping she was all right, hoping that sleep would serve her well and she’d wake up feeling right and rested.

The door opened, and Josie walked out of the bathroom in front of a cloud of steam. Her wet hair had been twisted into a knot on top of her head, and he could see the curve of her naked breasts under her V-neck. His eyes followed the long line of her bare legs in sleep shorts, down to her feet.

His breath caught, his hands tingling as he fought the urge to get up and pull her into his arms. He wanted to let her hair down, let it fall all over him, wanted to run his nose down her neck to smell her soap, wanted to—

Stop.

She fell face-first into bed, nestling under the covers where she fell asleep almost instantly, the comforter rising and falling with her breath. He took a long, cold shower and pulled on his sleep pants with chattering teeth before slipping into bed next to her, overwhelmed by her nearness. She was close enough to touch but so far out of his reach.

And he counted every mistake that kept him from her as he slowly fell asleep.

Dust motes danced in the sunlight of Josie’s living room as she sat across from Hannah Mills’s parents with Anne at her side, watching their tears fall as they begged for help with finding who had taken their daughter. Their tears fell and fell as they embraced, and then their bodies came together, melting into each other, joined by a single tear that ran backward into an eye.

Rhodes’s eye.

His face was placid as he lied to Josie about Hannah. She knew he had taken the girl, her mind screaming that he was a killer as she sat in his living room, sipping lemonade.

She stood and touched the cold doorknob before opening the door, and she was crossing the threshold of her own apartment, just as it was the night he’d killed Anne. She relived every moment as she pulled her gun, stepped over Anne’s blood, pushed the bathroom door open. And there she was, her dead eyes staring at nothing.

But the bathtub wasn’t full of water. It was full of blood, dripping from her hair, smeared on the porcelain, pooled on the tiles.

So much blood.

She climbed in and held Anne’s face in her crimson hands as the blood began to rise, climbing up Josie’s body, pulling her in, whispering to give up, to let go, to submit, to follow Anne. She screamed and grabbed the shower curtain, pulling it off the rings with a string of pops, gripping the edge of the tub until she couldn’t hang on, her fingers slipping as it dragged her down until only her eyes and nose and lips were free.

Then, it pulled her under.

Hands were on her shoulders, pulling her out, bringing her back. Saving her. She heard her name.

Her eyes flew open, and she was in the hotel. Jon hovered over her, worry creasing his face as he searched hers. A sob escaped her throat, clenched tight and burning.

“Josie.” The tenderness in his voice unraveled her, and she crumpled, curling into him, crying into his bare chest in broken, choked sobs.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair, whispering that it would be all right, that he was there, saying Shh in a way that healed her and hurt her and broke her.

When he leaned back, she lifted her face to his. And when she kissed him, when she pressed her lips to his, there was no thought, only decision and sweet relief.

He was everything she remembered, his lips strong and hot, arching into hers, and every curve of his body she knew by heart and memory pressed against her. His hands found her hair, unraveling her bun. His lips were hard as she kissed him back with all the love in her heart, all the pain, all the want and wishing.

All the waiting, all gone, all satisfied. And, for that one long moment, everything in the world was right and good and true.

He pulled away and looked down at her, thumbing her wet cheek. His eyes were so deep, so dark, his lashes long and sweeping as he looked down at her, begging her without speaking a word.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded and tried to pull him closer, but he stayed put, looking her over.

“I mean it,” he whispered as he touched her hair. “Josie, it’s been a crazy couple of days, and I think maybe we should talk—”

She reached up and stopped his words with a kiss, a slow, hungry kiss that stopped him from questioning it, stopped him from doing anything but giving her what she needed.

But he pulled away again. “I’m serious, Jo. I don’t want to mess this up a second time.”

Josie just looked up at him, dumbfounded and hurt, too fragile to deal.

Tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t, not yet.”

“Then we should wait.”

“No,” she said through her tears.

“Yes,” he whispered as he pulled her close. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Her breath was shaky as she pushed him away. “Nothing is okay.” She sat and swung her legs off the side of the bed. “I just wanted you not to ask questions. That’s all I wanted.”

It was all she could give.

Jon propped himself on his elbow, staring at her as she hunched over the edge of the bed. He touched her back, but she shrugged away from his hand.

“That was all you wanted? Goddammit, Josie. What about what I want? I’ve done everything I can to convince you of how I feel in the hopes that you’d come back to me. I’ve waited for you all this time, given you space and gladly. I thought that was what you needed. I’ve tried to prove to you that I’m here, that I’ll always be here. But, once again, I have no say; your word is gospel. But what about what I want? Don’t I have a choice? Why does everything have to be on your terms?”

She didn’t move, couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak.

His voice dropped, cold and hard as ice. “Josie, through all of this, I never thought you meant it when you said you didn’t want me. But right now, I feel used, and that is one thing I won’t fucking stand for. What more can I give you? What more do you want from me?”

She didn’t turn, only said, “I don’t know if I want anything from you.”

“Damn you,” he hissed. “Goddamn you,” the words wavered as he spit them out. He turned away, moving to find his bag, digging through it to occupy himself. “Go get yourself together. We’re leaving.”

“I—”

He spun around, unable to hold it together for a single second longer. “No. That’s it. I can’t keep doing this with you. You think I’m the one who’ll hurt you, but the truth is that you’re far more dangerous than I ever was.”

He turned to stuff his belongings back in his bag, and she stared at his back as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Josie picked up her bag and walked numbly to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a click. She looked at her reflection. But the girl who looked back was only a shell, the wasted husk left after the pain of her past ripped through her like a swarm.

The words she’d spoken echoed through her mind. “I don’t know if I want anything from you.”

She didn’t know how to want, how to give, how to love, or how she could live up to anyone’s expectations. She hadn’t known how to answer him. She couldn’t say the words she knew he wanted to hear because she didn’t know if they were true.

Josie sank down to the cold tiled floor and dropped her face to her hands, hoping he couldn’t hear her cry.

Dita sat in the dim theater room with her eyes on the screen and shock on her face. The gods were silent while they stared at Josie as she cried, her sobs the only sound in the room.

After a long, stunned moment, Dionysus stood and grabbed the remote. “Welp. I think we could all use a little breather,” he said as he clicked off the screen and brought the lights up.

A few gods got up to leave, but most stayed put, looking around like there would be an encore.

“I’m serious. Show’s over for now—at least, the public one. Come on, come on. Break it up, everybody.” He raised his dark eyebrows, his blue eyes expectantly surveying the room.

They reluctantly stood and shuffled out of the room, whispering and mumbling.

Dionysus sat next to Perry and Dita. “I think it’s time to get drunk.”

Dita side-eyed him.

“I’m not kidding, Dita. You need to get wasted, like, yesterday. Come on.”

He stood and started for the elevator, and Perry pulled Dita out of the chair.

“You really want to do this?” Dita asked her with an eyebrow cocked.

Perry shrugged. “Honestly, I could use a drink. Let’s go.”

They followed Dionysus to the elevator and up to his apartment. The furniture was all posh and plush with the occasional touch of animal print, which should have been tacky but Dionysus pulled it off with ironic hipster ease.

“Sit, please, ladies, whilst I prepare libations.” He motioned to the sectional couch with a smirk behind his scruffy black beard. He pulled his long hair back into a sloppy knot at his nape as he headed for the bar.

They sat down.

Dita was miserable.

Things had not gone as planned, the road trip taking a turn for the worst, complete with a panic attack and a rejection. Josie was broken, and her brokenness had crushed Jon’s spirit, smashed his heart in fresh and gruesome ways with nothing but a few words. Josie was so confused and gnarled, but Dita understood. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

“It’s too quiet,” Perry said with her eyes on Dita, who nodded. “Hey, Di, can we turn on some music or something?”

“Oh, yeah, hang on.” He punched an intercom on his wall. “Panos, could you come up? Bring your vinyl.”

“Sure thing, boss,” the voice on the other end said.

Dionysus made his way over with a tray of Fireball shots just as a satyr with small horns sticking out of his dreadlocks came in with a crate of records. His hooves clomped against the hardwood as he walked past and jerked his chin in greeting.

“’Sup, ladies?”

They waved, and Dionysus motioned to the turntables off the living room.

“Hey, Panos. You can set up over there.”

“Word,” he said with a smile.

Dionysus set his tray on the coffee table, took a seat next to Dita, and handed her a drink, passing another to Perry. He picked up one of his own and held it up. “Here’s to the mantra that should be repeated whenever things get stupid. Fuck it.”

“Fuck it!” the goddesses cheered, laughing when their glasses clinked together.

They knocked the shots back.

The cinnamon whiskey lit a trail of heat down Dita’s throat and into her stomach, spreading out like wildfire. She reached for another.

“That’s the spirit.” Dionysus raised another glass.

An hour later, Dita was properly foxed, as was Perry, who cackled at Dita’s reenactment of Ares getting knocked on his ass during the Trojan War. Dita’s tongue hung out as she crossed her eyes with her head lolling, and she made a choked gluh sound before flopping down on the couch, giggling.

“Ugh, what did I ever see in that asshole?” Dita’s cheeks were hot from all the laughing. And maybe the whiskey.

“That question is more loaded than you are,” Dionysus said before he slammed another shot.

Dita laughed. “I can handle it. I’ve found a new perspective,” she said cheerily.

Dionysus wailed the chorus of “New Attitude” by Patti LaBelle in an epic falsetto, and Perry giggled as she reached for another shot. Dita held her hand out for one, and when it made its way into her waiting fingers, she kicked it back.

“I do have a new attitude. I think I’m over it.”

Perry shared a look with Di, and they burst out laughing, heartily and with no remorse.

“What? Look, I’ll prove it.” She stood up too fast and stumbled as she tried to get past Dionysus and Perry. “Whoopsie.” She giggled again as she walked around the coffee table. “Okay, okay. So”—she put on a serious face—“I have realized something very important.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Ares is a dick.”

“And the sky is blue and Zeus is a whore. Tell us something we don’t know.” Di snickered.

“I’m getting to that.” Dita waved her hands at them. “What I mean to say is that I can’t find any redeeming qualities in him anymore. Aside from his giant hammerhead cock.”

“Hear, hear!” Dionysus cheered with his glass held high.

“He’s mean and cruel. He’s a baby. He’s a liar.” Her smile faded. “He has no respect for anyone else because he only cares about himself. He never cared about me, not really.” Her voice dropped. “It’s the cruelest kind of love, the kind that takes and never gives. But that’s what he does, and I won’t play a part in it any longer.”

She sat back down and reached for another shot in the quiet room as Perry and Dionysus sipped their drinks with their eyes on her.

“Don’t worry,” she said with the shot glass at her numb lips. “I’m not going to flip out or anything.”

Perry laid a hand on Dita’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re figuring it out.”

She lowered the still-full glass, staring at a spot across the room. “I still can’t believe how much my life has changed in the last few months. On the one hand, I’m grateful for the truth, but my heart feels like it’s been run through a meat grinder.”

“What are you gonna do?” Dionysus asked.

“The thing I don’t want to do,” Dita said. “I’ve got to face Señor Cocko de Vulvus.” She knocked back the whiskey and set the empty glass on the tray with a clink.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Perry’s eyebrow was up.

“It’s like trying to give yourself a Brazilian. You can’t think about it, just have to rip that motherfucking wax off and scream about it afterward,” Dita said with a shrug as she sank into the couch. “I just want it to be over, and this is the last thing I can do that’s in my control. If I don’t face him, I’ll just be waiting for it, waiting for him to confront me or corner me or whatever he plans to do. I need to just take the reins and fucking do it.”

“So, what are you going to say?” Perry asked.

“Dear Ares, you slimy piece of shit, I hate you. Go away,” Dita said gleefully. “Do you think that’ll work?”

“Sure, sure. I’m sure he’ll be like, Gee, I sure am sorry. I’ll just go now. Hope I didn’t inconvenience you! Problem solved.” Dionysus gave a thumbs-up with a cheesy grin.

“Ha, ha, ha, and-a fuck you, too,” Dita sang.

Dionysus tried to hand her another drink, but she put up her hand to stop him.

“And what’s next for you?” he asked.

“I need to learn how to be alone.”

Dionysus burst out laughing but stopped dead, eyeing her. “Oh, you’re serious.”

Dita gave him a look. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve been fucking up my relationships for millennia. It’s time to get it right, but I’ve got to fix myself first. Number one rule of love is that you can’t find it if you’re broken.”

Perry giggled. “Followed closely by, Timing is everything, and, Beware of rest stops after midnight.”

“Exactly. And then we can all move on.”

Perry and Dionysus sipped their drinks, and the statement hung in the air between them all, unanswered.

Josie looked out the window with music in her ears and the midnight forest flying by outside, holding herself tight with her arms around her waist and her feet on the dash, trying to sort through everything she felt and making no headway.

When they’d left the motel, she’d popped in her earbuds so they could both have some semblance of privacy for a while. Jon fumed from behind the wheel with his head propped on his hand, fingers tangled in his long hair. He hadn’t made eye contact with her once. His anger rolled off him and filled every molecule in the air.

But she just didn’t know what to say to make it right. She didn’t even know what right was.

The moon strobed between the trees as her thoughts jumbled together like a pileup, all metal and sharp points and busted glass. It was too much, too many things to deal with at once.

“You’re far more dangerous than I ever was.”

It was true. For so long, she’d been alone, fanning her anger and pain, blaming him for everything. For abandoning her, for loving someone else, for not saying goodbye. But it was all a lie. Everything she felt had been based on her perception, which was sideways and skewed. He’d tried to tell her, tried to make her understand, but she was too bullheaded to hear him.

Jon had done what he believed was right at every step, and she’d only punished him for it.

She felt like she was waking up from a coma, learning how to breathe again, dragging her heart behind her like atrophied limbs. And she couldn’t give him any part of herself until she found a way to heal.

Jon stared at the road with his forehead tight and his heart in a pressure cooker.

After everything they’d been through, after all he’d tried to do, and she couldn’t even have a conversation with him about herself, about them. He wasn’t asking for the world, just for her honesty. But he wanted everything she wouldn’t give, and she wanted the one thing he wouldn’t.

He’d give her anything, everything, but he refused to be used.

She was twisted up and mangled, but he couldn’t help her, no matter how hard he tried. No one could; she threw every attempt on the fire.

Josie had said she didn’t know if she wanted anything from him, but he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Maybe his feelings were one-sided. Maybe her feelings were only physical, only attraction, and she’d never really cared for him at all. His stomach burned at the thought. He could have read her wrong the whole time. How could he win her heart back if he’d never had it to begin with?

But he knew better. He hadn’t imagined it all. She had been through so much, and he knew it, understood it. He just couldn’t be a casualty anymore, wouldn’t put his heart on the line again for her if she wasn’t even willing to try.

It was late, though Artemis wasn’t sure of the time as she lay in her tent on her feather bed, running her hand through the sheepskin underneath her. For hours, she had been chasing sleep, staring at the roof of her tent, watching the shadows cast by a flickering candle as it burned down.

She should have been happy that Jon and Josie had fought, that they were once again at odds. But, as Artemis had watched their hearts break, she found no joy. The game suddenly seemed cruel, and she wanted no part of it. Josie was too hurt, too confused to toy with, to keep away from a man who would do anything, be anything for her. A man whom she loved, a man who could heal her. If Jon walked away again, she would never recover. That much, Artemis knew.

It was a life that had become her own.

She slipped out from under her blankets and stood, feeling her rug under her bare feet and then the grass as she pushed her tent flap open and walked into the night. Her shift was long, nearly dragging the ground, illuminated by the moonlight and glowing against the black of the evening around her, as black as her hair that tumbled down her back.

The moon called to her. She made her way through the sleeping camp with her eyes on the stars, scaling the slate boulder to stretch out on the cool stone.

Solitude was not only something she was accustomed to, but something she sought. When she was alone, there were no expectations. Her failures could be forgotten or remembered. She could be whatever she wished, even nothing at all, a slave to her instinct as she hunted or as still as a river stone, watching as life rushed past.

Perhaps Eleni was right. Perhaps she and Josie were too much the same. For once, Artemis’s logic and instinct failed her, and she reached the point where she wanted Josie to find peace more than she wanted to win. Josie’s pain had become her own, a mirror of her own loss, her own loneliness.

Orion twinkled on the horizon, and her eyes followed the line of stars that made his form.

“I have missed you more than can be imagined,” she said to the sky. “I do not know where I lost myself, but along the way, I have changed, and I wonder whether you would be proud or disappointed.”

A lone tear fell from the corner of her eye and into her ear. She could never have him back, but she didn’t know how to let him go. Time had healed her, but the break had never been set, and what was left had healed crooked, bent and twisted from neglect.

She was just as broken as Josie though worse. Because for Artemis, there was no escape.

The only way out was through herself.

She was ill equipped to handle it on her own, but there was no one to help her. She wouldn’t let them; she had pushed them all away. It was a prison she’d built without knowing, comprised of bitterness and anger, designed and imposed by herself alone—not Gaia, not Aphrodite. It was Artemis’s own doing.

She could not change the past any easier than she could fathom how to shape her future. And, as she watched Orion twinkle against the black sky, she could not comprehend how to find herself again after being lost for so very long.

DAY 11

“HEY, FRIEND,” PERRY SAID as she crawled under Dita’s fluffy covers that morning. “How ya feeling?”

Dita stretched out and sighed, content. “Like fifty million bucks, Fireball and all. I slept. Again.”

“This makes me very, very happy.” Perry smiled across her pillow at Dita.

“Me too.” Dita gasped, fear shooting through her. “Wait, are Jon and Josie okay?”

“They’re fine. Have a look.”

They looked in on the players. Jon looked haggard as he drove in the early morning sun, and Josie slept against the window, her brow creased even in sleep.

“They look terrible.” Dita felt like rotten garbage as she watched them.

“I know.”

“I need to come up with a plan,” Dita answered with her eyes on Jon, who was wound tight enough to shatter from the tension.

“Okay. Well, while you’re thinking about it, let’s talk about Ares,” Perry said, all chipper and merry.

“Ugh. You’re fucking evil.” Dita pulled a pillow over her face. “It is way too early for that.”

Perry giggled and propped her head on her hand. “When are you going to talk to him?”

Dita moved the pillow, hugging it against her chest. “I don’t know that either. Not until I figure out what to say. It’s so strange. I don’t know how I can just pick myself up and talk to him. I’ve only seen him once, and I flipped out. Who knows if I can maintain whatever facade of decorum I have going on when I’m face-to-face with him?” Her chest was heavy at the thought. “Maybe I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can. I promise.”

“How can you promise that?”

“Dita, remember where I came from. Remember who I’m married to. If I could overcome that, you can overcome this.” Perry laid her head back down and buried herself in the pillow, tucking in the end so she could see Dita. “You know this story well, but maybe it will have a new meaning for you now. If you want to hear it.”

Dita bit her lip and nodded as she reached for Perry’s hand.

Persephone’s eyes were distant, her mind turning back thousands of years to the time she was innocent.

“I can still remember the way I felt that day, the warmth of the sun, the green of the grass. It was so long before I would see it again.” She took a breath. “We were picking flowers—the Oceanids, Artemis, Athena, and I—like it was any day. I wandered away from the group, chasing a trail of orange calendulas over the hill when the earth began to quake, knocking us all to the ground. A chasm shaped like a lightning bolt split the earth, separating me from everyone.

“I saw the horses first. They rose from the dark, black as pitch, their eyes glowing coals, nostrils flaring, and teeth bared. They were the living dead. Shreds of skin hung from their ribs, fire burning in the cage of their bones. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream.

“The sunlight caught the obsidian inlaid in the golden chariot, nearly blinding me, the dead horses thundering by, and then I was weightless, floating, his hand on the back of my robes. It was only once I’d been deposited at his feet that I saw him, saw the hardness of his body, the coldness of his eyes, the shadows of his face, coloring him in menace and determination. And then the chariot turned, the sky disappearing as the ground closed above us, shrinking away until there was only darkness. Only then did I scream.

“When we reached the palace, I wouldn’t leave the chariot. I was terrified, crying and cursing him, vowing that I would never lie with him, never be his. And he laughed. Dita, he laughed at me. I can still hear the sound, echoing off the walls, mocking me.”

Dita squeezed her hand as she continued“He picked me up off the floor of the chariot, threw me over his shoulder like a doll and carried me in. I fought him every step of the way, thrashing and scratching and screaming. I was so wild, he dropped me once. I was triumphant, like I had beaten him. As if I could.

“But he wasn’t even angry, just looked down at me with eyes like stones and said, ‘One day, you will come to love me as I love you.’

“Love. That was the first time he told me he loved me. At the time, I couldn’t fathom his ability to feel, never mind love. I was a thing, a toy that Zeus had given him, and he treated me like I was nothing. I had no choice.”

Perry sighed from deep in her chest.

“I thought the underworld would be only fire and darkness, but it was beautiful. The palace was full of trees and plants I’d never seen before, bright and luminescent, some with jagged petals and sharp leaves, dangerous and lovely. The rooms were brilliant and bright, rivaling Olympus, if I’m being honest. Hades had created all of it for me, built it in the hopes that I would find beauty in my home.” She shook her head. “He knew me even then. It took me so long to see.

“Handmaids were waiting when he locked me in our chambers, and I begged them to get me out, to take me back to my mother, to the sun, but they just smiled sadly and bathed me, dressed me in a wedding gown. They tried to soothe me, but there was no comfort to be found. Words meant nothing. And in the end, it was their hands that dragged me to the garden where he waited for me.”

Perry’s eyes focused on nothing. Her voice was miles away. Centuries away. “The look in his eyes held me still. I didn’t speak through the ceremony, just stared ahead, numb from shock as the words were said that sealed my fate. Hades spoke his vow, looking down at me with eyes so blue and bright and full of ownership. Mine were dead with futility.

“I remember being so cold, my hands shaking, my teeth clattering as I walked by his side to our chambers, and when we crossed the threshold of the room and the door closed behind me, I snapped. I turned and ran. He caught me without even trying and carried me to our bed, talking to me all the while. Whispering to me. Soothing me. Begging me. Trying to make me see, to understand that I was his by right, that my maidenhood was his, and taking it was the only thing that could forge our marriage and bind us. There would be no waiting. But I wouldn’t do it. I just…I couldn’t do it. So, he tied me up and took what he believed was his.

“I know now that he tried to make it easier for me; he really did. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted me to love him. He wanted me to be pleased, thought that I would bend to him. But I hated him. I would have killed him or died trying. For years, I fantasized about it, especially after he tricked me into eating the pomegranate, imprisoning me in the underworld forever. I could never leave, and it was all his fault. I considered taking my own life. There are ways, though they are few, and I exhausted each one, preparing myself to escape my prison, my captor. But Zeus saved me. If he hadn’t granted me leave to come to Earth half of the year, I would have found a way to end it all.”

Perry’s eyes were dark, the eyes of the girl who had been tortured and the woman who had lived through it. “How can you get through something like that? I had been kidnapped, lived in the underworld alone and lonely, so bitter and hurt. Hades locked me away, but he never forced himself on me again, didn’t even touch me until it was on my terms.

“You remember what it was like then. None of us had a say; none of us had any rights when we married, though you and I fared better than most. Relationships then were rarely about love; they were about possession and politics, and we were trifles.

“I would hate Hades still if he’d brutalized me, but he didn’t, not really. His only fault was that he subscribed to the notion that I didn’t get a say. It was hundreds of years before I forgave him. Hundreds of years that he waited for me, served me, loved me at a distance.

“What I’m getting at is that, at some point, it ends. Pain isn’t forever. It’s not always. One day, it’s just behind you, and you crept past it so slowly that you didn’t even realize it. And that, my love, is how I know that you can get through it. I believe you can do anything. Including having a heart-to-heart with Ballsack Du Shrinkage.”

A laugh burst out of Dita, though tears glistened in her eyes.

Perry smiled, the act simple and honest. “Dita, Ares can’t hurt you, not really, and I don’t think he wants to. He’ll listen to you because he wants you, but you have to know he won’t hear a word you say. He’s not going to accept no, and there’s no way for him to make it right.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“But what can he do about it?”

“I…I don’t know. He could kidnap me and rape me like Hades did to you.”

“He could, but I don’t think he will. He stands to lose everything. Zeus doesn’t make promises he doesn’t intend to keep, and everyone is watching Ares. I mean, he’s stupid, but he’s got a healthy sense of self-preservation. Thing is, you can’t control his reaction, but facing him is crucial for you. You’ve figured out how to stand up, but you’re not ready to walk yet. Not until you do this.”

“How did you move forward?”

“I don’t know really. I mean, Hades and I lived together. I was a prisoner who had to share a bed with my jailer, eat meals with him, endure the company of the man who had stolen my life.”

Dita looked over her friend for a moment, trying to relate herself to Perry and coming up short. “My problems seem very small.”

Perry shook her head. “Don’t say that, Dita. I knew that Hades wouldn’t hurt me. I don’t know how, but I knew. I was damaged and angry and ruined, but I wasn’t afraid, and I never lost my sense of self. The thing that’s so stupid about all of it is that I probably would have fallen in love with him if he had courted me instead of kidnapping and imprisoning me.

“But my point is that your fear of Ares is real and valid. I was never afraid to tell Hades how I felt about him or the situation, which was probably irresponsible—he could have done so many worse things to me—but I was only a girl. I had all the answers and no fear of consequences.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes,” Dita said, her words soft.

“That, you do. I think that was part of what gave me my power back. He knew how I felt because I told him, and I still do. It was the thing that allowed me to feel like I still had a voice.

“You just need to tell Ares how you feel about everything. He’ll listen if he thinks it will get him back in your good graces. Just wing it. I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

Dita laughed. “That is so reassuring since I can’t even find my own ass these days.”

“You’ll be fine. And in the meantime, do you have any big ideas on what to do with Jon and Josie?”

Dita looked in on the players. “I don’t know. I can’t stop Rhodes, or I’ll mess with Jon and Josie’s math on catching up with him. They’re so close. It’s only a matter of time before they’re on him, and they have to find him. I don’t know what will happen to Josie if they don’t. They look so tired. Like, life-tired. But they need to talk before they get to Rhodes.”

“I know.”

Jon’s Jeep rumbled down the highway, leading to a small town in Montana, and Dita noticed three things—a garage attached to the gas station, a bed-and-breakfast, and the fact that she’d seen the town before.

She smiled. “I got it. Watch this.”

Josie woke with a start as the Jeep shuddered to the telltale flapping of a flat tire. They were in a tiny Montana town nestled in mountains and covered in boulders and massive firs. Jon pulled gingerly into a gas station, stopping in front of the stalls of the weathered red garage adjacent to the store and pumps.

An elderly man approached them, smiling amiably. White hair peeked out of his baseball cap, and his coveralls were spotted with grease. He waved a greeting as Jon climbed out of the Jeep.

“Any chance you have some time to patch a tire?”

“Sure, son. Let’s have a look.”

As they walked around the car, Josie climbed out and stretched, stiff from sleeping in the Jeep again. She took a look around at the small main street, which was a pleasant change from the rolling dry plains and mountains they’d been driving through. They stood in a small strip built into a majestic green mountain pass with a few shops across the street, a diner, and what looked to be a log cabin bed-and-breakfast. Signs for kayaking and hiking marked the road, and Josie was surprised that they had landed in a little gem of a vacation spot, smack in the middle of nowhere.

The two men knelt down by the tire, and the elder thumbed a nail that stuck out from between the tread.

“That’ll be no problem to fix. Give me a couple of hours.” He stood and hitched a thumb toward the garage. “Bring her around to the first stall.”

Jon nodded, looking beat. “All right.” He turned to Josie as the mechanic walked away, his eyes distant and hard. “I’ll grab the bags. You hungry? We can hit the diner.”

“Sure,” was all she could say.

He didn’t respond, only turned for the car.

Josie stood uselessly in the parking lot while Jon parked the Jeep. He came out of the stall with their bags on his shoulder and his eyes on the ground, and he didn’t stop when he reached her, just kept walking, the distance between them unbreachable.

She turned and followed him with a lump in her throat. “Here, let me take my bag.”

“Nah, I got it.” He didn’t look at her, his voice flat and succinct.

She followed him across the street and into the diner, her eyes on her boots, following him to a booth. Jon kept his eyes trained on the street beyond the window. Neither of them spoke.

They sat in silence for a few agonizing minutes before the waitress stopped at their table and mercifully ended the quiet.

“Can I get you folks something to drink?”

Jon glanced at Josie, and she momentarily lost her wits. “Um, coffee, please.”

“Sure thing, honey. And for you, sir?”

“The same, thanks.” He shifted to pull a flyer of Rhodes out of his pocket, unfolded it, and held it up in display. “Could you tell me if you happened to see this man? This looks to be the only spot to eat here in town.”

The waitress nodded. “Yeah, he was in here just last night. I’m pretty sure he stayed at the Beckham House, the little bed-and-breakfast down at the end of the street, since it’s the only place to get a room.”

Josie’s pulse hit double-time, her breath coming short. She couldn’t speak, not with her mind screaming.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jon said as he took the offered flyer back before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Are you guys cops or something?”

“No, but we’re working with them, and we need to find this man. Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”

“Not much to tell,” she said with a shrug. “He sat right over there and was nice enough. Tipped okay.”

“Did you happen to see what he was driving?” Josie asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t. Let me go grab that coffee for you two, and just holler if you have any other questions.” She touched the edge of the table and turned for the kitchen.

Josie met Jon’s eyes. “We’ve got him.”

He seemed worried and relieved and tense, so tense. “We’re practically on top of him. And now we know we’re on the right track. He’s on our road.”

“I talked to almost every motel on this path.”

“Then all we’ve gotta do is wait. We can’t move until we hear something, and we don’t want to pass him. Not that we can go anywhere with my tire busted.” Jon sighed and pulled the paper ring off his silverware, avoiding her eyes.

She bit her lip. “You look exhausted. We might as well get some rest while we’re waiting here.”

“I guess so,” he said, so worn, so tired.

She paused, watching him, not even sure how to start, how to explain, but she wanted to. She needed to. “Jon, I—”

“Not yet. Not here.” He stared at her from across the table with his bright eyes full of so many emotions that she couldn’t pin one down.

“All right.”

They ate their breakfast in silence. One of them would look out the window or watch the bustle of the diner, and then they’d switch, both so preoccupied with their own thoughts and the tension that it was one of the longest and most awkward meals either had been through.

Jon laid his card down at the end of the table, and the waitress closed their ticket out. They headed out and down the street, and before long, they were standing at the desk in the lobby of the bed-and-breakfast.

It, of course, had only one available room with a single queen-size bed.

They climbed the stairs of the cabin to a room that overlooked the main street. The cabin walls were a deep honey pine, as were the wooden beams that spanned the vaulted ceiling. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and paintings of the mountains hung next to old mining photos on the walls. The four-poster bed looked luxurious and comfortable, covered in a white duvet and quilt.

Josie set her bag under the window and brushed back the lace curtain, feeling like a fraud, wishing she were there as a lover or a honeymooner, not a heartbreaker.

She turned to find Jon sitting on the edge of the bed unlacing his boots, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and emotion.

“You should sleep,” she said softly.

“I don’t want to sleep. Not yet. Come here.”

Her pulse raced as she walked over to him, and when he looked up at her, the pain in her heart was mirrored on his face. He reached for her hand and held it in his, looking down at her fingers as he shifted them ever so slightly in his own.

“Josie,” he said, his voice rough, “I told you I never really believed you didn’t want me. But now…since yesterday, that’s been shaken. You said you didn’t know if you wanted anything from me, and I want to know what you meant. I need to understand. Do you feel anything for me? Do you want me as badly as I want you?”

His thumb grazed her knuckles. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She took an unsteady breath, her eyes searching his face, willing him to look at her. “I don’t know how to want anything anymore, Jon.”

Her voice broke as she sank to her knees at his feet, looking up at him through her tears.

“Every breath, every step, every minute of every day has been consumed by Rhodes, and I don’t know how to live anymore. How can I love you when I’m broken? How can I give you what you need when I can’t take care of myself? And all of this, you and me…Jon, everything that I thought about why you’d left was wrong, and I’ve only just realized it after three long years of missing you and hating you and wanting you. I thought that you had betrayed me.”

“But you know now that’s not true.” His eyes shone as he looked down at her, his brows tight, creased with hurt.

“I do, but…” She didn’t know how to explain, pressing her free hand to her aching heart. “All these years, you were waiting for me, but I wasn’t waiting for you. In my mind, you were gone and it was over, but in my heart, you were still there. You were always there, and I spent every day, every hour convincing myself that I hated you. When you came back, it pushed me into a free fall I still haven’t recovered from. I didn’t know what to do, and I still don’t.” A sob caught in her burning throat as she clutched at her shirt.

“Tell me the truth. Tell me if you want to be with me. Just say the word,” he begged.

She pulled in a shuddering breath, closing her eyes. “I can’t do that, Jon. I can’t promise that, don’t you see?” When she met his eyes again, they were heavy with sorrow. “I don’t want to hurt you again, but I will. I know it.”

“You fighting us hurts worse than you not being willing to try.”

“But what does that mean, try? All I can give you is this moment and the next one. Today, then tomorrow, and then…I don’t know. I can’t promise you, Jon. I can’t give you something I don’t have.”

Jon looked down at her and cupped her cheek, brushing away her tears with his thumb. “Then, I won’t ask anything of you but to love me.”

“But I already do.”

With those words, he dropped to his knees at her side, slipped his hands into her hair, and pulled her to him with a breath, a breath that drew her into him, where she wanted to be, where she wished to be, the place where she’d thought she’d never be again.

And when their lips met, he brought her back from darkness.

He was the sun on her skin, warm and alive; the grass under her feet, holding her to the ground; the breath in her lungs, saving her from drowning.

He was everywhere, his hands holding her face, his body against hers. She arched into him, needing his nearness, needing his lips and mouth and tongue as it brushed against hers.

There were no more questions. There was no wondering. There was only the two of them, their broken hearts mending with every beat, every breath.

Their hands roamed, thirsty and searching, under their jackets, skin too far away, fingertips on fire. His chest was hard and hot under her palms, his heart thundering against her fingertips as he pushed her jacket down her arms and pulled his own off, his lips never letting hers go.

He rose to his knees, taking her with him, kissing her deeper. He was so familiar to her, even after all this time. Their nights together skipped through her thoughts, touches, kisses, sighs from so long ago right there, right in front of her. And her body hadn’t forgotten him any less than her heart had.

She’d been a fool to deny him.

But she’d never deny him another thing. Not as long as he loved her.

Jon stood, and so did she, backing into the bed with her arms around his neck. And he laid her down, pressed her into the bed with his long body, the weight of him heavy and solid and perfect.

He broke away and rolled over on his side, his eyes on his fingertips as he traced the line of her jaw, thumbed her bottom lip, trailed down her neck and along her collarbone. And when he reached the place where her heart hammered her ribs, he flattened his palm, felt the beat, met her eyes, kissed her with a deep softness that told her more than words ever could.

Josie broke away after a moment and sat, watching him watching her as she crossed her arms and reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head, her hair falling through the neck like liquid copper over lily-white skin. She turned and leaned over him, slipping her fingers into his hair, lazily draping over him as her hands roamed his face, his jaw, his neck, his chest. When she slipped her fingers under his shirt and across the soft skin over his hard muscles, he hummed into her mouth, his own fingers skating under the band of her jeans.

He rolled her over and slipped his thigh between her legs, pinning her; her hips rolled against him in answer.

It had been so long since she was touched, so long since she felt this, the ache so deep for him, so hot, her body moved on its own. She needed him. She needed him for so much. She’d needed him for so long.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, his fingers at the band of her jeans.

He popped the button and lowered her zipper, and her entire body flexed at the sound.

“Oh God,” she breathed.

He moved down the bed, grabbing the backs of her boots to pull them off, kicking off his own as he pulled off his shirt. When it was gone, he reached for her jeans. She was already pushing them over her ass and down her thighs, and then they were gone.

His eyes locked between her legs as he climbed onto the bed and threaded his arms under her thighs until his hands were at her waist. And then he pulled, running his nose up the inside of her thigh, his breath hot against her core, his lids fluttering closed as his lips closed over her.

A long, slow shudder worked down her body on the heels of a sigh, her eyes closing and head tipping, the feeling of his tongue sweeping and hands on her hips and his rumbling voice as he moaned into the very center of her. With every brush of his tongue, her hips rolled harder. When his finger slipped into her, her legs clenched his shoulders, her lungs shooting open with a gasp, but he didn’t stop, not until her back arched, not until she breathed his name, not until her fingers were twisted in his hair and she was pulsing around his fingers.

Her body slowed, and so did his, first his lips and then his body as he climbed up her, trailing kisses in the crease of her hip, up her stomach, to her breasts, his thumb grazing her tight nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. She reached under herself to unclasp it, and he rid her of it and brought his lips down to the swell, closing his hot mouth over the peak. With his head cradled in her arms, she arched into him, their legs tangling together, his face buried in her breasts.

He had on too many clothes, she realized very suddenly, and her hands scrabbled down his body for his belt, wanting more skin, wanting his heat, wanting him.

He let her go and leaned back, and she was almost sorry. Until he stood at the end of the bed, his eyes locked on hers as he gripped his belt and unfastened it, unzipped his pants and dropped them. He moved to climb back up to her, pausing to rummage in his bag next to the bed for a condom. And with one knee on the edge of the bed and his eyes on his hands, he rolled it on, gripping his length.

And then he was in her arms.

Their lips met as he nestled between her legs, and she spread her thighs open to let him in, his crown pressing against her, her hips angling for him. And he flexed his hips and filled her up, buried himself in her and held still for a moment, for a breath that broke the kiss, his forehead pressing to hers and their noses brushing.

He pumped his hips, and she was empty; he shifted, and she was full again. Then again, rocking against her, and again, his lips finding hers. Again, her fingers in his hair. Again, her heartbeat racing. And then he whispered her name, the sweetest sound, and her body answered with a shudder that drew him deeper and deeper, deeper as her heart beat, deeper as he came.

Their body slowed, and he kissed her, kissed her with a thousand promises, kissed her with the years behind them and the future riding their breath. And she knew she’d always been his. She would always be his.

The gods broke out in chatter, but someone hissed a, “Shh!” and everyone listened for the alarm to sound.

Hermes stood with a smile and addressed the room. “Ah, ah, ah. There are too many variables yet to claim the win. They need a resolution, a decision, to be on the same page. Anything could happen. Until they’re safe, the game is still on.”

Artemis looked relieved, the tightness in her face slipping away with a breath.

Dita sighed. She’d known it wasn’t over, but the good news was that the pieces had all been lined up for the win. And for the moment, that was about all she could ask for. There was still the matter of Rhodes, and he was a loose cannon. They would find him soon, and none of them knew what he would do.

She wouldn’t rest easy until they were safe.

Perry elbowed her. “Dude. Hot.”

“They’ve been waiting a long time for that,” Dita said with a nod.

“How come you don’t look completely blissed-out jazzed right now?”

“Because they’re still chasing a serial killer.”

Perry watched her for a breath. “They’re going to be okay, Dita.”

But Dita only watched the sleeping players on the screen. “I hope so.”

The forest was dense, the tall trees thick and lush, the golden sun cutting rays through the trees, dappling the mossy ground in patches. Josie stopped in a column of light, the long white gown brushing her skin, featherlight, the spongy ground cool under her bare feet.

Something moved in the trees before her, and from the darkness of shadows walked a doe, her eyes meeting Josie’s with understanding and sentience, with knowledge of ages heavy in their depths.

Josie took a step toward the creature, connecting with her, needing to touch her, to feel her soft fur and know she was real. And the doe held her head high and steady, watching Josie approach with an outstretched hand and a pumping heart.

Their heartbeats matched, their breaths in and out in rhythm.

And the doe bowed her head and said, It is time.

Josie woke with a start to her phone blaring. It was still dark out, and she blinked, confused for a moment, not comprehending where she was.

And then Jon stirred against her, and she remembered everything with a rush that took her breath with it.

The ringing from the nightstand wouldn’t quit. She reached over him to grab her phone.

“This is Josie,” she said before clearing her throat.

Jon stretched for his own phone to check the time. It was ten.

Jesus.

He couldn’t believe they’d slept so long and sat up in bed, hoping it was good news on the other end of the line. He tucked his hand behind his head and listened to her half of the conversation.

“Yeah. Okay. Hang on, let me write down the address.” Josie waved at Jon, who handed his phone over. She pulled up the notes. “Go ahead.” Her fingers flew as she banged out an address. “Thank you. Give me a call if he leaves before we get there, and we’ll give you a bonus.”

She hung up and laid a hand on his chest, her eyes relieved and ready and afraid. “This is it.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling the silky strands and the warmth of her skin as he cupped her cheek.

She leaned into his hand with a sigh, but worry passed across her face as she looked down at him.

“Jon,” she said gently, “I want to figure all of this out—you and me—but we have to get through Rhodes first. I have to get through Rhodes first.”

“I know,” he assured her, not needing answers. He just needed her. “It’s okay, Jo. First things first. We’ll get to the rest when we can.”

Her eyes shone in the low light of the room, grateful and soft. She leaned in and kissed him, smiling when she broke away just before her eyes flew open. “Oh my God, Jon. The Jeep.”

He sat up fast. “Oh, fuck. Fucking shit fuck.”

Josie was already twisting her hair back and climbing out of bed. “Maybe we can find out where the mechanic lives. This town is tiny. Come on, let’s get moving.”

He got out of bed and pulled on his shirt and jeans. When he turned, Josie was stepping into her jeans, her silhouette black against the blue moonlight through the curtain, and he shook his head with a sigh at the sight.

So much he’d missed, so much he’d waited for, and now it had finally arrived. They just had to catch Rhodes, and then they could move on. Together.

Josie clicked on the lamp, and they threw what little they’d unpacked back into their bags before rushing downstairs in a panic.

The front desk had Jon’s keys and a receipt for the tire patch, and Jon was thankful for small-town hospitality. Once they thanked the owner and left extra cash for the mechanic, they trotted to the shop where the Jeep was parked, hopped inside, and were on their way.

He reached for her hand as they pulled onto the interstate, and she gratefully took it.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The large fire crackled in front of Artemis, lighting her Oceanids’ faces in orange highlights and black shadows, all turned to her.

She rose, looked them over, and smiled. “The hunt is on.”

They cheered, and Artemis found small joy in the rush of the chase as she waited for them to quiet down.

“I have heard the whisperings of your opinions on the competition and my decisions.” She scanned their faces. “This game has not been easy for any of us, myself included. I…” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed to force it open. “I am sorry. Reason has escaped me, and I fear the competition might be lost for my mistakes.”

Murmurs rolled over the nymphs.

“That does not mean I have given up.”

The chatter turned to soft laughter.

“Tonight, we will focus on the chase and the hunt. I have done all that I can to help her, even giving her Rhodes’s location, and now they are on their way to face the end. The rest, my friends, shall work itself out with or without our help. And now, we drink.”

A ruckus ensued; chatter and laughter filled the air as a few nymphs pulled out instruments. They turned to each other, breaking into clusters, but Artemis was alone in her thoughts as she took her seat once more.

There was nothing left to be done but wait. Wait and watch and hope.

She watched the tips of the flames lick at the stars, watched as the embers floated up to the heavens and disappeared. The world went on around her, grinding her down like wheat into dust, scattering her to the wind, and she wondered if she would ever be whole again.

DAY 12

JOSIE REACHED FOR JON’S hand resting on his knee, threading her fingers through his. He gently squeezed them as she looked out the window at the road rolling by.

They had been eight hours from Rhodes when they left the bed-and-breakfast but would make it to him in six. Jon drove like the devil was on his tail. But he wasn’t. The devil was at the end of the road.

Her thoughts were consumed by Rhodes, working over scenarios. She’d looked up the motel on her map and familiarized herself with the surroundings, imagining the routes he would take if he left, if he ran, trying not to think about what would happen if he were already gone.

She let herself imagine calling her dad when it was over, all while wondering and worrying over what over would mean when it was all said and done. Captured. Injured. Dead.

She didn’t want to kill him, much more satisfied with the thought of him spending the rest of his life in jail, rotting through a half-life behind bars. Death would be too easy, too simple after all he’d done.

Part of her still wondered what she would do, if faced with the choice. Would she pull the trigger? Would it feel good to watch him die, to know she had stopped him forever?

She pushed the thought away and turned to Jon. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call the local cops?”

He glanced over at her, rubbing her thumb with his. “We can if you want, but they’re going to go busting in there, guns blazing. They could fuck it all up, spook him, alert him, give him time to get away. We really don’t know.”

“It just feels…irresponsible or something.”

He smiled sideways at her. “That’s your cop blood talkin’. Don’t worry; we’ll call them as soon as we get there.”

She nodded. He was so solid and steady and calm next to her. And that was always the thing about Jon. He knew what he wanted and what he needed to do without question, and he did it. He was sure, certain, true. And his certainty seeped into her, affected her, changed her for the better.

The sky grew lighter by shades as they pulled into the motel and parked in front of the office. Josie’s nerves were on fire, her stomach churning, as they spoke to the man behind the counter who told them everything they needed to know. No, Rhodes hadn’t checked out. His car was right over there. And he was in room 205.

They stepped out of the office, and Josie made the call to the local police while Jon watched Rhodes’s door from across the courtyard. And, as they made for the stairs, the door to 205 opened.

Rhodes stood under the fluorescent lights, keys dangling in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. Shock and recognition passed across his face as he froze in front of the half-open door.

The three stood staring for a split second, and when Jon pulled his gun, Rhodes took off running.

Josie drew her gun as they ran after him. He sped down the stairs at the far end of the building and across a patch of parking lot to a chain-link fence that he scaled, landing him in the junkyard backed up to the motel. He disappeared into the maze of scrap metal.

Jon and Josie hurried around the corner to the front of the junkyard. There was no one in sight, everything hushed and still in the moments before dawn.

The owner stepped out of his office. Josie flashed her PI license at him and held her finger to her lips, motioning for him to get out, and he dashed away.

Jon gestured that he was going to take the back route around the stacks of scrap and junk. She nodded, watching as he made his way around, clearing corners until he was out of sight.

“Rhodes,” she yelled, wanting his focus on her and not Jon as her eyes scanned the shadows around her, “the cops are on their way. There’s no use in hiding.” Each step was wary and watchful as she walked between columns of cars on racks with her gun drawn. She cleared every passage, every corner of the jungle of rusted metal, until she found herself in a row that dead-ended into a tall wall of sheet metal.

She shifted the exact distance necessary to train her sight on Rhodes, who stood at the end of the path.

He was a handful of yards away with his gun pointed at her. Her heart drummed in her ears, her finger resting on the trigger. She could pull it and end him right then, right there. And she almost did.

“Where’s your friend?” he called.

She didn’t move, only stared at his eye at the end of her sight. “He’s either around here somewhere, or he’s not. Guess we won’t know till we know. Now, how about you put your gun down, and we have a little talk?”

“Or not.” He unlatched the safety, and in the dim light, she saw that his eyes and body held no fear. They were cold and deadly, and his calm certainty scared her more than the gun in his hand or all the things he’d done.

“You’re just going to shoot me in the middle of a junkyard? That’s not quite your style.” She took a step toward him, matching his calm with her own, however counterfeit it was.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

She could smell rust and rubber, dust and dirt, hear every breath he took from feet away, see his smug smile. Even in the end, he still didn’t believe he’d be caught, that he would pay.

“No, this is too messy for you, isn’t it? You like it nice and clean. No strings, no loose ends. Not until Hannah. And then Anne.”

“I’m not afraid of a little mess. And if it takes care of you, all the better. I should have killed you sooner. I considered it, did you know?”

“Oh?” Her voice was shockingly brave.

“I’ve been to your place so many times, looking for her necklace. It would have only taken climbing in your window once, and I could have ended you. Then we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. And you could have gone on murdering hookers and teenagers and dumping them in the Hudson. Does it make you feel big and strong to kill them like you do?”

Keep him talking. Wait for Jon. Where is Jon?

“There’s power in holding someone’s life in your hands and squeezing until that life is gone. It’s over so fast, but it’s infinite. I remember each girl, every face. I see them in my dreams.” A perverted, evil smile stretched across his face.

“How did you kill Hannah?” she asked, knowing he would enjoy enlightening her, wondering if he’d ever spoken about it aloud, needing to distract him for both their sakes.

“She didn’t suspect me, not until I was dragging her inside. She fought almost as much as your friend Anne.”

She stopped breathing. Her finger twitched against the trigger.

“Oh, Anne. She was really pretty, you know? Really. Her being home was an unexpected surprise. Cleanup was a little…undesirable, but you know what they say. Do what you have to do, right?” He was so cool, like he was recalling changing a flat tire instead of murdering her best friend. “I’m sad to kill you this way. I’d much rather it was under different circumstances.”

She swallowed hard. “Who said I’d be the one dying today? Maybe it’ll be you.”

“No,” he said flatly, “I don’t think it will.”

Everything happened at once, but each event was separate in her mind, stretching out, splitting, and coming back together. She heard Rhodes’s gunfire, saw the flash just as she pulled her own trigger. Jon slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, and as the world tilted, she saw her bullet pass through Rhodes’s left eye, watched him crumple to the ground, his blood spilling out around his head in a halo of gore.

She lay stunned on the ground for a moment before she looked down, patting herself for an injury. But then her eyes found Jon, and nothing else mattered.

He had rolled off of her, the crimson bloom on his chest spreading with each heartbeat.

“Oh my God. Oh my God, Jon.” She pulled him into her lap, cradling his head in her arm.

She pressed her hand to his chest, and he laid his on top of hers just as she heard sirens in the distance.

“Sorry I took so long,” he whispered. He broke out coughing.

“Jesus, Jon. Look at me. Look at me.”

His eyes listed, moving slowly to meet hers. “Josie…Jo…I…I love you. I only ever…wanted you. S-sorry. I’m so sorry. So…” His lids fluttered.

“Stay with me, Jon.” Her voice broke, the fire in her throat burning out of control, stinging her nose and eyes. “Stay with me. I love you,” she pleaded, as if the words would save him. “I’ve always loved you. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She brushed his hair back from his gray face, laying her hand on his cheek. “Please, don’t leave me.”

She bent, holding him, rocking him as clarity washed over her. He was all she’d ever wanted, and she’d denied it, denied him for reasons that didn’t matter. Reasons that wouldn’t save him. Reasons that wouldn’t save her. She’d lost countless minutes and hours and weeks of his love, lost time that was finite and fleeting.

The chains and ropes that had bound her snapped and unraveled. She turned her back on her past and looked down into his eyes, touched his ashen skin, and realized too late that there was only one thing that mattered in her life, in the universe. She loved him. She would always love him.

Josie looked like an angel, a fiery angel with eyes that could stop the world from turning, her cheeks pink and wet with her tears.

Don’t cry. He thought he’d said it out loud, but his lips hadn’t moved, wouldn’t move. He wanted to touch her face, but his hands lay still. I love you, he tried to say as she shrank in his vision.

She turned and yelled to someone behind her. Then, she looked back down at him.

And, as she faded away, he said goodbye.

The silence in the theater room was broken by a small sob. Artemis stood, staring at the screen, motionless, as paramedics ran to Jon, pumping his dead heart, laying electric pads on his chest to shock him with a jolt that snapped his back in an arch. Josie stood and backed away with her hands on her mouth, her eyes full of horror, jumping when they shocked him again, and his body thumped against the ground. A gasping sob escaped her.

As the seconds stretched on, Artemis knew what she must do. Winning was irrelevant, the competition irrelevant. She saw Orion as he lay dying in her arms, felt the loss rip through her. And in that moment, her life connected with Josie’s in a way she hadn’t been able to grasp.

She could save Josie from the suffering she would endure from losing him, the pain that Artemis knew so well. She could save Jon from Orion’s fate. She could set everything to rights.

She could close the circle.

Artemis reached into the pouch on her belt and retrieved one of Apollo’s tokens. She crossed the room and handed it to him. “Save him, please.”

Apollo nodded and turned his attention to the screen. He glowed, his lips and eyes illuminated, growing so bright, she shielded her eyes against the light.

The paramedic felt for Jon’s pulse. “I’ve got a heartbeat!” he yelled.

And Josie fell to her knees.

The room let out a collective sigh, and one of the gods let out a whoop, followed by soft chuckles from others.

Dita rushed her, almost knocking her down with an embrace. “Thank you, Artemis. Thank you,” she whispered.

Artemis hugged her back, relieved and exhausted. “It was the only thing to do.”

Dita released her, and the look on her face spoke volumes. They turned to the screen where Jon lay on a stretcher being wheeled toward an ambulance.

A police officer laid a blanket over Josie’s shoulders as she watched them take Jon away. Two detectives made their way to her and pulled out pads and pens to take her statement, and she stood, numb and cold, barely aware as the sun rose behind her, and the sky caught fire alongside her heart.

DAY 13

JOSIE SAT NEXT TO Jon’s hospital bed with her hand in his, listening to the machines beep, willing him to wake.

They’d said he was lucky.

He had died for almost a full minute before the paramedics started his heart again, and they’d told her they wouldn’t know if he would be all right until he woke up, if he woke up. They were the words that Josie had had to repeat to Tori, and they had held each other, cried together, not knowing what their futures held.

And then Josie waited. She wished and hoped. She tried not to cry, but when the night fell and the hospital was dark and quiet, her tears fell as she sat next to him, begging him to open his eyes. Wanting to hear her name on his lips. She thought of every word she’d said to him, every mistake she’d made. He’d given so much of himself, and she would do anything, give anything for the chance to make him happy after she’d caused him so much pain.

Her body ached from sitting in the stiff chair she’d pulled up to his hospital bed. Her fingers were wrapped around his as she stroked his arm around the hospital bracelets and IV, but the contact wasn’t enough. She awkwardly climbed into bed with him, not caring about her own comfort, only wanting to be close to him. She slid down on the bed and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, her abdomen clenching at the thought of the bullet hole in his chest as she listened to the beep of the machine, reminding her that his heart was still beating.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she said as hot tears burned the corners of her eyes, “but I need to tell you what I should have said from the start. Not just before today or yesterday, but when you came back. Even before that.”

She took a shaky breath.

“All these years, I have loved you, even when I shouldn’t and even when I wouldn’t admit it to myself. It’s always been you—from the minute I first saw you until now and every moment in between. I love you and I need you and you can’t die. You can’t…” A sob escaped her. “You…you saved more than my life, Jon. You brought me back from the dead and showed me what I had left to lose. You never gave up. You never let me go, even at my worst, and you have to wake up. Please, you have to…you have to be okay because I don’t want to live without you. So please, come back to me. Come back,” she whispered.

Her eyes were pinned shut, her fingers clutching his hospital gown, her heart ripping to shreds as she held on to him like she’d sink if she let go.

“Don’t cry, Josie.” The words were weak and thin, barely a whisper, and she felt his hand in her hair.

She sat up, dumbfounded, blinking at him as he smiled up at her, his eyes shining.

“I always knew you still loved me; that’s why I never gave up. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

She laughed and cried as she leaned over him, laying kisses on his lips, his cheeks, “Jon. My God, Jon,” she said in wonder as she held his face. “Nurse,” she called over her shoulder as she fumbled for his call button.

“Jo,” he whispered.

“What?” she answered, concerned.

“Think you could quit gettin’ me shot at?”

“I’ll try,” she said on a laugh, punctuating her promise with a kiss.

The nurse rushed in, and Josie moved out of the way as she checked the machines and helped him take a drink of water. He teased and charmed her, like he did everyone, even after everything he’d been through, and Josie stood stupidly at the foot of his hospital bed with her fingers to her lips, giggling through her tears, marveling at Jon, whole and alive.

Once the nurse left, Josie took her place next to his bed.

He looked up at her with sparkling eyes and reached for her hand. “I have something I wanted to give you.”

“Give me? How?”

“Where’s my bag?”

“It’s right here.”

He jerked his chin toward it. “Go look in the outside pocket for my notebook.”

She sat down in the hospital chair and dug through his bag until she found the blue notebook. She held it up, and he nodded.

“Open it.”

Josie did as she’d been told and looked up at him, astonished when she saw her name at the top of what looked like a letter.

“Read it.”

And so, she did.

Josie,

I’ve written and rewritten this letter a hundred times and fifty ways, but the words have never been right. I’ll never do my heart justice, but know that’s just where these words are from.

I remember the first time I saw you. It was summertime, and you were walking with Anne down the sidewalk outside of the station. I don’t know what it was that made me stop, that stopped my breath and heart and time itself. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was fate. But I knew right then that I would love you.

I’ve thought about you every day, wondered if I’d ever see you again, wondered if you’d ever forgive me as life passed by around me. I was a thousand miles away, far from anything that would remind me of you, but I found you everywhere. I’d see you at a restaurant or walking down the street. I’d hear a song or catch a scent, and you were there.

I thought I would get over you, but in all truth, I think I grew to love you more.

I hoped I could get a second chance, though it’s the last thing you want. But I can’t give up, not until you understand I never meant to hurt you. I need you to know that all I’ve ever wanted was to give you everything, myself included.

Because I love you, Jo. I’ll love you until I take my last breath.

—Jon

Josie set the notebook down and looked up at him from behind her tears, his eyes so full of love and longing that it stole her breath. She moved to sit next to him, to brush his hair from his face and trace the line of his jaw, so strong and covered with stubble.

When she cupped his cheek, he leaned into her hand.

“I’ve been a fool,” she said softly, quietly, the words touched with regret.

He reached for her face, mirroring her. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough. “Just love me. Just say that you love me.”

She looked into his eyes and told him the truth, “I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

Jon closed his eyes, his brows furrowed as the words sank in, and he pulled her down to him to mend their hearts with a few words and a promise and a kiss to seal their forever.

Dita walked the path to Artemis’s pond with her hands in her pockets, the only sound around her the wind in the trees as she thought over the last day, the last week, the last month, and how everything had changed. Jon was alive, the competition was over, and she had won, the alarm sounding its hurrah and the game coming to a close.

Not that she’d even cared about winning at that point. Jon had had to live, and thank the gods he had. He and Josie could be together, and they’d be together forever, if Dita had her way.

She smiled down at the path.

The empty camp stretched out before her when she rounded a bend. Artemis sat atop her stone perch, and she looked down at Dita with a smile, motioning for her to come up. It was awkward business, climbing the rock, but she made it to the top without getting winded, which she considered a win.

“Aphrodite.” Artemis bowed her head.

“Artemis,” Dita answered, sitting on the warm slate next to Artemis.

“I suppose you came for this?” Artemis held out her token.

“Why, no, that’s not why I came. But I will take that. Thank you.”

The token lay in her palm, the twin to Apollo’s sun token. The moon hung inside, bright on one side, black as pitch on the other. It glowed dreamily, and when she held it to her ear, it played the songs of crickets chirping so slowly that it sounded like a symphony.

“And did you bring that humble pie I promised to eat should I lose?” Artemis asked.

“No, but I did bring this.” Dita snapped her fingers, and a bowl of Cheerios appeared between them, next to a spoon on a napkin.

Artemis laughed, the sound genuine and merry.

“You weren’t in the theater room when the competition ended today,” Dita said as she closed her fingers around the token and hooked her arms around her knees.

“No, I was not.”

“Are you all right?”

“You care?” she asked with a glance and a raised eyebrow.

“Artemis, of course I care.”

Artemis smiled. “I am well. I knew I would lose the moment Apollo saved Jon. Before that really.”

“You saved him,” Dita insisted.

“Semantics,” Artemis said with a shrug.

“Thank you. It’s not enough, but thank you.”

Artemis looked away. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Do what?”

Her eyes were on the distant mountains. “Jon was lying in her arms, and I couldn’t let him die. I gave Josie something I cannot have. Love.”

“Artemis—”

“I loved him, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Dita said quietly.

“I didn’t know what to do about it at the time. I never was able to be with him, but he was mine, and I was his. I am his. I will forever be his, but my life has not been full of living since he’s been gone. I have been blinded by my anger and hurt for so long, I lost myself. But that changes now.”

“It happens to all of us, even those of us who should know love better than anyone.”

Artemis met Dita’s eyes. “I am sorry for what I said and did to you. I was cruel.”

“You were right.”

“Knowing the truth is the first step to moving forward, I’ve found. Once you know a thing, you cannot un-ring the bell. The knowledge is yours, and the knowing changes you.”

“Wise words,” Dita said with a nod.

“From a stubborn goddess.” Artemis smirked.

Dita snorted. “Uh, have you been to Olympus recently? Because I’m pretty sure the first synonym for goddess is stubborn, right next to incorrigible and shortsighted.”

“Well, let us be sure to do our namesake proud,” Artemis answered with a laugh.

And, as the goddesses sat in the sun, Dita found hope that they would both survive their past.

Dita waited until Artemis had eaten her entire bowl of cereal before she climbed down the rock and walked up the path and into the elevator, bound for Ares’s apartment. She smoothed her shirt and wiped her sweaty palms on her back pockets. It was the day of the awkward talks, and she was determined to get through it, doing her best to convince herself that she was prepared.

But when the door opened into Ares’s foyer, she froze. It took all her willpower to force her to take a step instead of pushing any or all buttons on the elevator to get it to close so she could vacate the premises.

He came out of his bedroom and stood stock-still when he saw her.

“Dita?” His eyes on her were like cold, demanding fingers against her skin, running a chill up her spine.

“Can we talk?” she asked with more confidence than she felt.

“Of course.”

She watched him as he walked across the room and sat on the couch, and she followed, keeping a wide distance. He was graceful and muscular, beautiful and deadly. She moved to sit on the couch opposite him with trembling hands.

Dita braced herself, repeating her speech in her mind before opening with the disclaimer, “I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want you to touch me. Can you agree to that?”

He nodded.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and sticky. She held her chin up and sat straight. “I’m not going to hide in my apartment for eternity because I don’t want to see you. We’ve got to live with each other. But I need to know that you won’t hurt me again.”

His face was blank as he watched her, not hearing her, just like Perry had predicted. “I don’t know what to say, Dita. You know how I feel about you.”

“I do know. But we’re through. I need you to let me go.”

He slung his big arm over the back of his chair and shook his head. “How do you suggest I do that? I haven’t been able to shake you for my entire eternal life.”

“You’ve got to find a way. I need you to leave me alone. If you love me, can you do that? For me? Can you let me heal?”

“I can give you time.”

“Time can’t fix what you did,” she fired back. “You can’t go back and leave Adonis alive. You can’t undo the countless lies you told. You can’t turn back the clock to a time where you didn’t hurt me. You can’t erase it, and I can’t love someone who would betray me the way that you have.”

“You say that now—”

“I’m not going to change my mind.” The finality in her words surprised her, but she felt them all the way through her, knowing they were honest and real the moment they’d left her lips.

“I can wait to see if that’s true or not.”

He was patronizing her, she realized. He still didn’t believe, couldn’t grasp it, though she had always known it was an impossible thing to ask of him.

“You’ll be waiting forever.”

“We’ll see.”

She pursed her lips and took a breath, allowing him the last word even though it killed her not to argue. “Can we agree to a truce?”

“You need time and space, and I will give you that. For now.”

“Someday, you will understand that this is it.” She stood and left for the elevator. “See you around.”

“Yes, you will.”

DAY 21

JON FOLLOWED JOSIE INTO her apartment, and she dropped his bag next to the door. He reached for it as she closed the door behind them.

“Ah, ah!” She slapped his hand. “Doc said no lifting anything over five pounds for two weeks.”

“It’s a duffel bag full of socks and underwear. I think I can handle it.”

“You got shot in the chest, asshole,” Josie said with an eye roll and a smile.

“And then made a miraculous recovery because I am just that epic.” He smiled smugly, and that single tug of his lips practically made her panties burst into flames.

“Okay, Mr. Epic Man of Steel, you indestructible favorite of the gods.” She grabbed the bag and made for her bedroom. “Jeez, I can’t leave you alone for two seconds.”

“You’d better not.” He looked around as he followed her. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He motioned to the wall where the crime shrine had been replaced with paintings and a framed photo of her and Anne.

“Yeah,” she said over her shoulder, “that wall was creepy. How come nobody told me?”

“Ha, ha.”

She winked at him.

They’d spent a week in Washington while he recovered, and it had indeed been miraculous. She was partly convinced he was superhuman after the doctors had insisted he’d be there for two weeks, but he’d healed well enough to go home after only one. The nurses had made a huge fuss about it, but they’d loved to fuss over Jon anyway. It was a rewarding business.

The Spokane police had recovered Rhodes’s belongings, the most notable being the jewelry box that housed every trophy from every kill. It would mean closure for so many families and loved ones, and his death meant safety for countless more.

Josie had flown back while Jon was recovering, just for a few days, long enough to pull down the crime shrine and enter Anne’s room again. She had dropped to the floor at the end of her bed and cried until her tears ran dry, remembering her friend.

Letting her go.

Josie passed the threshold of her bedroom and set his bag next to the bed.

“Damn, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about being in this room again,” he said from behind her.

She turned to find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms across his chest and a crooked smile on his face.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mmhmm.” He pushed off the door and walked across the room to where she stood, stopping close enough that they were almost touching. He looked down at her as she tilted her face to his.

“Well, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you in this room.”

“That so?” He slipped a hand into her hair.

“Mmhmm,” she said through a smile.

“Well, you’ve got me here now through my recovery. What should we do?”

“I don’t know.” She looked up and shook her head. “The doctors said very clearly no strenuous activity.”

“Guess that means you’ll have to do all the heavy lifting,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She ran her hands up his chest and wound them around his neck. “Oh, I don’t mind that at all.”

“Goddamn, I love you,” he said smiling as he bent down to meet her lips, sealing their forever.

Dita looked over the top of her couch when the elevator dinged to find Athena walking through the foyer, the sound of her heels marking her entrance. Her glossy blond hair was short and neat, red lips smiling curtly on her porcelain skin. She looked every bit as powerful as she was—her tailored, high-waisted black slacks and a white button-down, pristine and perfect—like she could walk into a boardroom and eat a dozen CEOs whole.

“Hello, Athena.”

“Hello, Aphrodite. I hope I find you well.”

Dita put down her worn copy of one of her favorite bodice rippers and smiled. “Quite. And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“May I?” Athena motioned to an armchair, and Dita nodded. “Thank you.” She took a seat, crossing her long legs. “I wanted to come by before our competition starts. Shake hands, as it were.”

“Ah, good form. Have you chosen your player yet?”

“I have, and I’m optimistic.”

Dita chuckled. “That’s what they all say.”

“Yes, but I’m one of the few who makes you work for your win.” Athena’s blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, and we haven’t spoken much since you’ve been back. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what Ares did to you. I suppose none of us should be surprised at my brother’s behavior, but really, he outdid himself.”

“Yes, well…thank you. I appreciate the thought. I shouldn’t have expected more from him.”

“We all do, especially Zeus. Expectations are an impossible thing. You can’t help but want those you love to rise above and earn the love you’ve given them. Because we all love him, in our own ways. Just far less than we hate him.” The words were as practical and matter-of-fact as the goddess who spoke them.

“You speak in truth and wisdom, Athena,” Dita said lightly.

“Yes, I do. It is my blessing as it is my curse.” She stood and extended her hand. “May the best woman win.”

Dita shook her hand with a smile. “I always do.”

EPILOGUE

SWEAT ROLLED DOWN HEPHAESTUS’S bare back and chest, the familiar heat from the forge clinging to him, as much a part of him as his hands and his heart and his soul.

The only light in the room came from the coal in the stone pit, highlighting everything it touched in oranges and casting the rest in darkness.

In his hand, he held a crucible with metal tongs, the gold in the tray first bending, then softening, then melting into a pool of white-hot liquid that he could shape, that he could make something new from, that he could mold and change and create with.

He knew the moment before it was right, could tell from the color and the consistency that it was time. He poured the molten gold into a mold in the shape of a small bar and stepped back, leaning against his workbench as he waited for the metal to cool, staring into the coals.

This was the place he’d found solace for thousands of years, and tonight was no exception.

Dita crossed his mind, as she so often did, and he wondered where she was, what she was doing, how she felt, and when he would see her again. Because he wanted to see her again, wanted to reassure her, to reassure himself that she was all right, to make her all right if she wasn’t.

The game had taken a toll on all of them, each round a domino that fell into the next, a chain reaction that had the fabric of Olympus altered, their lives turned around and upside down. But through the pain, through the hurt, things were changing.

He saw her in the fire, saw her freedom, saw her strength—strength she didn’t even realize she had. For so long, he had wished for her happiness, and he could see her finally realizing that what she’d mistaken for happiness was false. He could see in her eyes that she wanted to know something real.

She was changed, and her change brought him hope.

Heff pushed off the table and to the mold, flipping it over to drop the gold bar into his hand. With his tongs, he nestled it in the coals until it was hot and soft, and when it was ready, he laid it on his anvil and reached for his hammer.

The metal flattened, each stroke of his hammer sure, the pressure and movement needed to shape it second nature, muscle memory, steady and without error. When it cooled, he rested it back in the coals to heat it again, repeating the movement until the gold was flat.

He moved the small strip of gold to his vise, slipped the end in, and tightened it. He rested a rod the size of Daphne’s fourth finger, left hand, next to the gold and hammered the loose end to bend it until the circle of the ring was as close to complete as it could get, trimming the excess metal off with a delicate saw.

Apollo had commissioned the ring, to be inscribed in Greek—My soul, my life I give to thee.

Apollo would ask for Daphne’s hand, and she would say yes. Their union would be a celebration where they could all find joy, a date that would move them all forward, beyond the pain of the past, and Heff found himself humbled and honored to be a part of their bond, to forge the ring to bind their love. The ring that would join them after so much suffering.

He took the ring, now almost complete, to the fire until it was pliable. And then he hammered it to close the gap, the ends pressed together, melting into each other. As he watched it cool, watched it fuse together to close the circle, to make a whole, he thought of his wife who wasn’t his wife, whom he had loved for eternity. Who had hated him at first, hot and angry as the molten gold. Who had loved him when she cooled.

But he could never close that gap between them, and she stayed just far enough away that he couldn’t reach her, the space between them so small but impossible to breach.

As he filed down the seam, it disappeared as if it were never there, as if the circle were just as it had been for eternity. It was the union, the creation of a whole from what had once been two, separate points, a circular path that went on forever. It would be Apollo and Daphne’s future, and hope sparked in his heart when he thought of Aphrodite, wondering if his chance was finally near, if he could be her forever and if she could be his.

Enjoy From Darkness?

Click HERE for With A Twist, a bestselling romantic comedy!

Love is somewhere near the bottom of Lily Thomas’ list of life goals,

right next to competitive eating and underwater cave diving.

She’s spent six years pirouetting and pliéing her way up the ranks of the New York Ballet with her eye on the prize and love in the back seat. But now that Blane Baker — Lily’s long time crush — is finally single, she’ll throw her rules out the window without thinking twice.

Reality with Blane isn’t as epic as the fantasy she imagined, and the truth sends her spinning straight into the arms of the man she never knew she’d always wanted.

West Williams has been friends with Lily since the day she moved into their building and he saved her armoire from a swift, sudden death by staircase. Their friendship has always been easy, the boundaries clearly defined. With neither of them willing to risk their relationship, they’ve drifted happily through the years as companions, never considering more.

That is, until they do. And that realization changes everything.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

OBVIOUSLY, THE FIRST PERSON to thank is Jeff Brillhart (rhymes with Heff <—not an accident). Honey, I’m thankful every day that you haven’t run away, screaming. I have been more psycho and impossible through this book than I have ever been in our near thirteen years of marriage, so thanks a mil. Srsly.

Lori Riggs, goddamn it. My life twin, I love you. I couldn’t have written this book without your advice, even when I wanted to murder you for being an ass and never sugarcoating things. Thanks for holding my hair back while I wrote this novel. I owe you so many KPop gifs, it’s out of control.

Jenn Stevens, you sick, twisted woman. I don’t know how I would have ever produced the crime aspect of this story without you. I can’t even count on both hands and bare feet how many times The Wall saved me. I love you forever. Love, your neurotic bouncy ball.

Elyse Schramm, thank you ten million. Even though we basically never agree about anything, you’re oddly one of my favorite people ever in the whole world. Your love and support mean more to me than you’ll ever really know. Also, quit stalking my husband.

Orry Benavides, you were a huge part of the conception of this book, and I can’t tell you how much you helped me through the major hurdles I faced while dealing in the world of crime and serial killers. What the hell was I thinking? The world will never know. Thanks, bud.

Karla Sorensen, your support through rewriting and rereleasing this series has been as vital to me as air and coffee and chocolate. No amount of Julia Quinn paperbacks can ever repay you for that.

To my beautiful and lovely beta beauties—Thank you for taking time out of your lives to give me feedback on this story. I’m gonna name you all now, so you’re all officially in a book: Parrish Walsh (sisterfriend extraordinaire), Summer Hartshorn (easy lover), Tanya Cook (the admin to my ass org), Melissa Lynn (the darkness), Lisa Bryk (the Andi to my Janice), Zoe Streicker-Howard (Freya+Candice 4ev), and Nadine Colling (the original fangirl).

And to my readers—Thank you so much for your love and support. It means the whole world to know that I’ve touched even one of your lives. Words can’t express how appreciative I am for each one of you.

ALSO BY STACI HART

CONTEMPORARY STANDALONES

With a Twist (Bad Habits)

Chaser (Bad Habits)

Last Call (Bad Habits)

Wasted Words

Tonic

A Thousand Letters

Bad Penny

A Little Too Late

Hardcore

HEARTS AND ARROWS

Paper Fools (Book 1)

Shift (Book 2)

What the Heart Wants (Novella 2.5)

From Darkness (Book 3)

Fool’s Gold (Novella 3.5)

SHORT STORIES

Once

Desperate Measures

Nailed

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom to three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey, and her favorite word starts with f, ends with k.

From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s gaming, cleaning, or designing graphics.

www.stacihartnovels.com

staci@stacihartnovels.com

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

More Books by Staci Hart

Dedication

Preface

Prologue

1. Day 1

2. Day 2

3. Day 3

4. Day 4

5. Day 5

6. Day 6

7. Day 7

8. Day 8

9. Day 9

10. Day 10

11. Day 11

12. Day 12

13. Day 13

14. Day 21

Epilogue

Enjoy With A Twist?

Acknowledgments

Also by Staci Hart

About the Author