But I hated the desperation of this place.
It was a means to an end. One I was getting sick of waiting for.
I wasn’t one to be caught idling, not for anyone. But especially not for The Oracle.
Just as I was about to stand from my stool, giving up on the messenger ever appearing, a person in a brown suit and a bird mask sat next to me.
“Fucking carrier pigeon.” I grumbled as I turned to look at them. These fucking messengers always came in shit-brown, like they were monks in some ancient goddamn monastery.
Sanctimonious fuckheads.
“Follow me.” The pigeon nodded toward the hallway of private rooms.
Uninterested in being left behind, I followed them through the crowd. My height was an advantage in the crowd, making it easier to stay locked in on the masked messenger ahead of me.
Once we reached the edge of the old train terminal, flashing lights illuminating the marble walls that led to arched, glass ceilings, I couldn’t help but admire the classical style. It was a wonder this place was ever left to rot. Timeless, a building like this — much like the house — would stand far longer than any generation could predict.
It seemed like a common issue in these parts: letting something quite gorgeous fall into disrepair.
But not once the Madame found it. She knew it’s worth for the seedy world she’d been cultivating. And thus The Station was born.
The pigeon guided me into a private room. Used primarily for sex, the space was furnished with a closet of kink toys, blackout curtains and glass walls for those who liked to become a spectacle.
Despite the leather couch along the wall being the only item in the room that would appear to absorb sound, not a peep could be heard outside the walls of the confined space.
I closed the door behind myself, crossing my arms as the pigeon methodically closed the curtains.
“You don’t need to bother with that. I’m not here to fuck.”
A low hum came from her mouth. “The intimacy of our secrets is worth protecting.”
I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes as the pigeon folded her hands over each other, staring back at me.
Through gritted teeth, I growled. “Why are we here? You know what I need.”
“The Oracle has new information. There is trouble on Mount Olympus.”
“Yeah, I’m aware, fuckhead.” I hated talking with them like this: through masks and coded nonsense.
The pigeon simply nodded, unfazed by my frustration. “The girl who hurt the crown prince… Zeus is moving forbidden resources in their hunt for her.”
“Whatever little birdie told you that is full of shit. Isaac would never be that reckless. I saw the reports, and it’s nothing they could be caught for. It doesn’t draw on the underground resources at his disposal.” My jaw tensed as I stepped closer. “And it’s best you don’t forget who the real crown prince is, birdbrains.”
The words tasted hollow as they left my mouth. I knew The Oracle wouldn’t send a messenger if it wasn’t true. Still, I couldn’t believe my father would usethoseresources to find her. She wasn’t important enough, not for any of this. Not to them at least.
The pigeon shrugged. “The Oracle does not make mistakes.”
“Very funny,” I scoffed. “You must be new.”
“Perhaps, the young god of war should be aware that she is not the favored child of Zeus. Too adversarial to be trusted.” The pigeon lifted her chin, staring me down through the thick bird mask.
Heat rose in my chest at the barb. It took all my self control not to close the distance between us and pummel this smug motherfucker. No one spoke to me like this, not without consequences.
But like it or not, I needed The Oracle. At least for now.
Deep down, I knew the pigeon’s warning was valuable. Isaac was anything but a fool. If he needed to use the illicit resources, then he was desperate. And Isaac was a dangerous beast when he was cornered.
Which meant that, even in the haven of Zeus-free Valemont, Kiera was in serious danger.
