Achilles led the three of us through a narrow alley on the outskirts of Rome, eyes narrowed with concentration as he stalked silently, checking around corners before waving us forward.
Nero walked at his heels, Fluffy Jr. whined beside me, and Poppae slunk after the three of us quietly, ears back, long tail low. Nyx was quiet on my shoulders.
Dawn was slowly creeping over the horizon—the sky was streaked with orange rays and bricks glistened with morning dew—but the city was deathly quiet.
It wasn’t sleeping.
Rome’s population had been decimated by Titan attacks decades earlier, and like the rest of the world, it had never recovered.
Ancient architecture crumbled next to the ruins of modern buildings.
Past and present were both dilapidated.
Something feels sinister.
There was an energy in Rome that I’d never felt in an empty Montana field.
Faded maroon handprints streaked across doors, bones poked out from beneath piles of bricks. Human teeth dotted the path as we moved through the ruins.
Death had visited.
You could taste the tragedy in the air.
“If Titans are within this p-protected zone,” I whispered to Patro as we stopped at the end of yet another alley and Achilles looked around the corner, “shouldn’t we be able to locate them? Aren’t they … loud?”
Patro shrugged, looking completely unconcerned.
“Titans haven’t been inside a protected zone in years,” he said. “I’m not convinced that Artemis didn’t have faulty intel.”
I rubbed at the golden cuff that covered my scarred wrist. “And if she was r-right?”
Patro waved his hand in the air. “Don’t worry so much—we’ve done this thousands of times.” His tone was patronizing and dismissive.
Hot rage filled my chest.
Patro paused when he saw my face. “Sometimes Titans don’t always announce themselves,” he sighed. “Some of them move quietly. Every Titan is not the same—it’s not that deep. Stop panicking.”
My jaw hurt from how tightly I was clenching my teeth.
I’m not.
Achilles turned his head, watching us with an inscrutable expression.
Another burning stick protruded from the grates of his muzzle, and the veins in his neck popped, like he was clenching his jaw.
Patro smacked me on the back, and I jumped.
He laughed. “Buck up, Alex. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you. Just follow our lead and relax.”
I turned to him. “Don’t call me that.”
Patro didn’t respond as we followed Achilles through the city’s side streets toward the Roman Colosseum, the ancient Spartan structure towering over the ruins of modernity.
Crash.
I stumbled over a pile of bricks and … I blanched—human bones.
Patro reached out and steadied me, his hand wrapping around my forearm. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said quietly as we stood, eye to eye. “I’ve been wanting to discuss it with you.”
