I wanted to hurt him. Badly.
No. You’re not like your foster parents.
I shook my head to dislodge the dark thoughts and sighed heavily.
“Alexis,” Kharon said slowly, “punched the Titus boy from the House of Dionysus in the face. Then she got punched in retaliation.”
Patro harrumphed.
“Attacking your betters, I see,” Patro sneered as he turned to me. “You need to focus on self-preservation. I hope you’ve learned your lesson... youdon’twant to mess with a Spartan mutt whose been trained since birth to?—”
“That’s not all,” Kharon cut him off.
Copper flooded my mouth from my ruined nose, and I tilted my head back, awkwardly gurgling until I could breathe again. It was a move I’d learned as a child, since foster Father had woken me up with a broken nose on more than one occasion.
The fact that my face had healed perfectly each time should have been a sign that I wasn’t fully human, but I’d been a little distracted trying to survive, so I gave my younger self a pass.
Now all three men (evil Chthonic monsters) gaped at me with varying expressions of disbelief.
You’d think they’d never seen a woman gurgle her bloody spit and nose juices before.
I shrugged.
The key to surviving girlhood in an apocalypse was being adaptable—and period cups. Music also helped. So did Carl Gauss fanfiction.
Kharon took a step closer, leather holsters creaking across his wide thighs, the leather straps crisscrossed right below another bulging?—
I was staring at his male thotch (thigh-crotch) region like a weirdo.
Mental note—pray. ASAP.
Nineteen was a strange age.
In an effort to come across as less of a melancholic pervert, I studied the blue diamond buttons gleaming across his wide chest.
Aren’t blue diamonds the most expensive diamonds in the world?
I’d read something about the rarity of the blue Hope Diamond, which used to be kept in a museum until Titans had ushered in the era of anarchy and thieves had stolen it.
A dozenthickdiamonds sparkled on Kharon’s shirt.
What are the odds I can successfully steal one, run away, then Charlie and I can live off the proceeds for the rest of our lives?
The devil approached with perfect posture. His wide shoulders were pulled back (not that I noticed), showcasing the Spartan guns holstered across his chest.
Ten percent chance I can steal a button.
Kharon looked down his aristocratic nose and leaned dangerously close.
His voice was a deadly rasp. “It’squitethe story, you see. Afterbeing punched, Alexis kneed the one boy in the crotch, and then... she kneed him again in the face as he fell.”
A frantic piano tune played.
Patro made a noise in the back of his throat. “So? She managed to moderately incapacitate one boy, it’s not like she?—”
“Then—” Kharon interrupted harshly. “Alexis here lifted a library chair above her head and bludgeoned another boy, until he was out cold.”
Patro turned and gaped at me.
