"Don't look, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my hair. "You don't need to see that."
I don't. I bury my face in his chest and grip fistfuls of his shirt and shake apart in his arms.
That’s when I hear more voices. Demon, Fuzzy, others.
"We got cleanup," Demon says. "Get her out of here."
"The mother?" That's Chaos.
"Fury and I will deal with her," Demon replies.
My mother is shrieking now—wordless, animal sounds punctuated by my name. But nobody comforts her. Nobody addresses her grief. It's the sound of an addict realizing her fix is leaving in a body bag.
Zeus lifts me. One arm under my knees, the other supporting my back, and he carries me up the basement stairs without a word
He moves through the house and into the living room, lowering us both onto the couch. He doesn't let me go. He sits with me in his lap, my legs curled against his thigh, his arms forming a cage around me.
"Breathe," he murmurs. His hand strokes up and down my spine. "You're safe. I've got you. Breathe."
I try. My lungs feel too small, too tight, but I match the rhythm of his hand—up is inhale, down is exhale. Over and over until the trembling subsides to a manageable hum.
Minutes pass. Longer, probably. I hear movement elsewhere in the house—heavy footsteps, a scraping sound, muffled commands—but Zeus keeps me facing away from all of it. His heartbeat is my metronome.
When my breathing has calmed and the tremors have faded to occasional shivers, his hand moves to my chin. He tips my face up, scanning every inch of me.
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
I shake my head.
"London." His voice is low and gentle. "Why did you leave?"
I look down at my hands, still fisted in his shirt. The question deserves an answer—a real one—but pulling it out of me feels impossible.
“Was it because I killed your father?” he pushes.
"No." The word comes out fierce and absolute. I lift my gaze to his. "You did what you had to do. You saved Rowan's life. The same way you just saved mine." I press my palm flat against his chest, over his heart.
He exhales as though he's been holding his breath for days.
"Then tell me why."
I swallow. "Who my father was. What he did to all of you, to the club.” My voice gets even smaller. “The whole time I thought his name meant something—that in a way, being his daughter gave me a right to be here. Then I found out he was a traitor... That the club despised him... I realized I don't have any claim to that world. Your world.”
Zeus opens his mouth, but I press my fingers against his lips.
"Let me finish." He nods behind my hand, and I continue. "I also didn't want to embarrass you. You were his best friend. You already dealt with the shame of that—of trusting someone who turned out to be—" I gesture vaguely. "I thought being with me would just be a constant reminder. Not just to you but to everyone. That people would look at us and see the traitor's daughter with the traitor's best friend, and it would humiliate you all over again."
A heavy silence sits between us. His jaw works beneath my fingers, and I pull my hand away.
"Are you finished?" His voice is barely above a whisper.
"Yes."
"Good. I'm about to say something important, and I need you to hear every word." He cups my face in both hands, thumbs resting on my cheekbones, his gaze locked on mine.
"I know exactly how you feel. Down to the bone. That's how I felt after his betrayal. Ashamed. Humiliated. Unworthy of the brothers' trust. I was his best friend. I should have seen thesigns. Should have known. And I didn't. For months, I punished myself. Punished everyone around me."
His thumbs stroke across my cheeks.
