Page 79 of The Gods Forbid

It had flared when Persy left the house, casting me a smile over her shoulder as she walked away. Before I knew what I was doing, I was following her. I told myself that it was just to head to the marketplace, but it was really just to trail her.

Smart, because I heard the screaming first. The second I stepped foot onto that line between the new facility and the old cells.

There was one voice—younger, probably a woman, who sounded much more panicked, yelling for help or someone to hear her. Then there was a man who was trying to calm her by shouting for her to settle down—effective, that method.

But all I knew was that the yelling was coming from the old cells of Prometheus. From where Persy was. And I couldn’t hear her.

I hadn’t seen her panicked—ever. Maybe she did scream, maybe she stayed silent. I’d venture to guess she went the route of trying to calmly assess the situation, but even then, I’d be able to hear her voice.

And then movement caught my eye. Three people—who I knew to be staff members—were running past me in a full sprint, fumbling with a collection of cleaning and first aid supplies.

I was the god of medicine. I should help.

Persy likely needed my help. I would never know—or rather, would refuse to spend any time trying to figure out—whether it was the thought of Persy harmed that made me break into a near sprint with increased urgency, following the staff.

The yelling got louder as I approached and one thing became clear. Persy definitely was not speaking. My long stride turned into a full blown run, following the hurried pace of the other employees as they tracked the screaming.

The further and further they descended into the pits of Prometheus, the more my heart rate picked up and my speed increased.

Like I said, I could spend time later sorting through the sheer terror that I felt in that moment. Or hell, I could do it now. It wasn’t that complicated.

Unfortunately, Persy had a way of making you care about her, and that had the annoying side effect of caring whether she lived or died. It didn't matter that I would also probably care if she got a paper cut.

I could only hope she was somewhere on the paper cut end of the spectrum.

“Can someone help?!” The female voice yelled again, sounding all the more agitated.

“We’re coming!” One of the people I was trailing yelled back, before signaling to the person next to them to hurry the fuck up. By the time we were rounding the corner at the end of the hall, the rushed yelling seemed like it was on the other side of the wall.

Of course, I was right.

The second I rounded the corner, I ran into the stiff backs of those two employees. I could only imagine that they were looking at the scene in front of them with slack jaws or another shocked expression.

I didn’t have time to care, because Persy was covered in blood. She didn’t appear to be looking at anyone in particular, just staring off into space while her perfect blonde hair was stained with red.

Her face and shoulders too, with a sizable splat right in the middle of her clothing.

When she didn’t react to any of the yelling or arrival of new people, I decided I was done being subtle.

Shoving through the two in front of me, I stepped up in front of them and took in my surroundings as quick as I could, my mind already screaming at me to focus my attention back on Persy.

There was a man thrashing against the bars of his cage, the rattling sound clanging through the damp, dark hallways as loud as a cannon. “You fucking bitch!” he yelled, all his fury directed at Persy.

“Shut him up,” I barked at no one in particular. I knew Persy would probably have something to say about my tone, but she would just have to deal with it. If she wanted to yell at me herself fine. But while she was standing there, unblinking and unmoving, I got to act as I pleased. “Why the fuck is she covered in blood?”

“It’s not blood,” someone said, but I was already walking up to her. Her head didn’t move an inch, didn’t tip back in that way I’d come to crave so she’d keep eye contact with me.

“Persy, love,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear me. “What happened?”

This close, I could smell that it wasn’t blood on her, but some type of food. I saw a tray behind her, which meant the fucker behind bars had thrown his meal at her.

A hum built in her throat, her vocal chords warming up to answer, but no words came out.

I looked over her shoulder to someone crouched down, trying to gather the mess. “What happened?” I barked.

Their head snapped up, eyes wild with terror. “He…” their voice was shaking considerably. “He threw his meal at her and she fell. Then he grabbed her ankle and tried to pull her towards him but we stopped him.”

Fury like nothing I’d ever known blasted through my chest. I’d never personally killed someone, but I felt a solar flare building in my hand, begging to find it’s way into that fucker’s heart.