Talos found me.
After everything I did to make sure he wouldn’t.
After all the running. All the hiding. All the nights I slept with a knife under my pillow because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being hunted.
My vision blurs.
“No,” I whisper.
Orpheus’s hand closes around my wrist, steadying me.
“Cassia,” he says, sharper now. “Who is Talos?”
I shake my head, but the motion is weak.
The dam breaks. The tears come so fast it’s humiliating.
One second I’m standing there, trying to hold it in, trying to be strong, trying to be the version of myself that doesn’t crack.
The next, my face is wet, and I can’t stop it.
I make a sound, half sob, half laugh, and it feels like my body is betraying me.
Orpheus swears under his breath.
His hand moves to my face, wiping at the tears like he doesn’t know what to do with them, like they’re a foreign substance.
“Stop,” he says, not cruel, just lost. “Stop crying.”
I laugh again, broken. “Yeah, that’s easy.”
His jaw clenches, and for a second, I see something spiral in his eyes.
Panic.
It looks wrong on him like it shouldn’t exist.
“I don’t know how to help you,” he admits, voice low and furious, like he’s angry at himself for the truth.
I wipe at my face, but the tears keep coming.
“I told you I didn’t want protection,” I whisper, choking on the words. “I told you I was fine.”
Orpheus’s gaze is a storm. “You’re not fine. You’re anything but fine.”
I look down at the note again, and my stomach turns.
“He found me,” I breathe.
“Who is he?” Orpheus demands again, each word sharp. “Tell me.”
I shake my head, and the motion is frantic now. “You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand,” he snaps.
“I can’t,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I can’t do this. I can’t go back. I can’t . . .”
My breath catches, and the sob tears free.
