I could feel Tortola from here. I could see the foaming, aqua waves crash and somersault against my white beach. I could smell the heady, salty air. I could feel the sultry sea breeze on my skin.
I could picture myself at the edge of the tide, digging my feet into wet sand and letting the sun warm my face.
And yet I couldn’t get there.
The imagery was so clear, so perfectly vivid I knew I was close to figuring out how to get there.
Just not yet.
I should have been able to transport two places, Tortola, my home, and Olympus. I toyed with the idea of going to Olympus instead and hoping that Ryder stood ready with the god-killer, but I couldn’t risk showing up there without anyone to have my back.
If I went to Tortola then at least I knew I would have control.
I would be strong.
I would be stronger.
A crashing sound echoed down the hallway. I jumped to my feet and immediately backed up against the wall. I held my hands out defensively and prepared for what came next.
My friends didn’t move from the bed. I was starting to worry they couldn’t walk anymore.
After our initial conversation, they’d fallen into tense silence. Exie never looked at me and whenever I caught Sloane glancing my way, she quickly turned back to stare at the wall.
With each passing second my heart ached more for what they had endured over the last year. Thalia was right to hate me. I certainly couldn’t blame her for wanting to hand me over to Nix.
If Exie or Sloane were my children, I would have stopped at nothing to rescue them from this place.
“What is that?” I whispered as the crashing happened again.
“Nix,” Sloane murmured. “He’s coming for us.”
I strained to hear over my beating heart. I wasn’t ready to face Nix yet.
Panic infused my blood and sent my heart galloping in my chest. “What’s he going to do?”
Exie finally turned to look at me. She lifted her body off the bed with weak arms and stared at me with dead, soulless eyes. “You better hope he kills you,” she stated simply.
Nix appeared in the doorframe, fresh from a shower but disheveled. He fumbled with the key in the lock for a minute before he managed to rip the door open.
He stalked into the room like a tiger circling its prey. His onyx eyes landed on each of us briefly before moving back to the hallway.
When he turned back to me, resolution had settled in his jaws and forehead. He had decided something permanent.
“Start singing,” he commanded.
“Wh-what?”
He lunged toward me, grabbing both of my biceps with a punishing grip. “Sing.”
“Singwhat?” His grip was so tight that I couldn’t catch a breath. My arms burned until they prickled with pain. His fingernails dug into my bare flesh and I wanted to scream at him to get his hands off me.
“Start singing,” he ordered again. “I need you to get this entire island under your control.”
I raised my eyebrows and gritted out, “Even you?”
“I’ve got a high tolerance for this sideshow, Sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from proving him wrong. I knew I could influence him. I knew I could win this battle of wills.
