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“WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?”

Lore’s hand shook as she held out her phone to Van. He took it from her, struggling to master his anger.

“He made us share locations,” she continued. “That was our deal—”

“You’re sharing locations with him,” Van said sharply. “He probably forgot to share his in return, or someone disabled it. In either case, we need to leave. If they can track your location, this house is now compromised.”

Castor stood behind her, his back pressed up against the stairs. He said nothing, which said everything. Neither he nor Van would meet her gaze.

“We’re not leaving,” Lore said. “He might not have been taken. Maybe he’s just hurt, or in hiding or . . .”

“Or dead,” Van finished coldly. “Which is exactly what I told you would happen if you didn’t convince him to leave.”

“Do not cast her as the enemy for believing in his abilities,” Athena cut in. “You have maligned him repeatedly and tried to force him from a choice he made voluntarily. Melora is not responsible for whatever has happened to him.”

Lore wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe her more than anything. “I thought you were supposed to be watching him.”

“I was, but I needed to take a call,” Van said. “Don’t you dare turn this back on me. If you think that I don’t feel—”

He cut himself off.

“Run another search for Miles in Argos,” Castor said quietly, already turning to go. “I’ll keep watch from the roof. I should be able to see anyone coming and buy us some time to escape if Wrath and the hunters try to attack.”

Athena moved to stand beside the bay window, cracking the roman shades open to peer out into the street.

Van went to the kitchen to retrieve his second laptop. While one ran Argos, actively searching for Miles, he used the other to bring up saved videos.

“This is archived footage from a street camera a few hours ago,” Van told her. He played it through and, together, they watched as Miles disappeared around a corner.

“There’s no camera at the meet spot,” Van said, frustrated. “It was offline.”

Lore leaned closer to the screen. “There’s no way to know if he actually met the source?”

Van shook his head. “I have to imagine he would have texted or called right away if there was a problem.”

Miles appeared in the same feed a few minutes later. There was none of the triumph he’d had after his first successful meet—now he only looked afraid. The program jumped to the next camera, picking up his trail as he turned onto Lexington. Another captured him crossing the street against traffic, still looking around.

Then the video cut off.

“That’s it?” Lore choked out.

Van’s face was as grim as she’d ever seen it. “That’s where Argos lost sight of him. Either he’s hiding himself well, or he was taken.”

“Shit,” Lore breathed. Her pulse was hammering, her breathing growing shallow. The darkness edged into her vision as her thoughts began to spiral toward the worst possible outcomes.

The other computer beeped. Van grabbed it, straightening as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Not Miles, she begged silently. Please, not him, too . . .

New security camera footage loaded. In it, a small figure knelt in some kind of lake. His hands were tied behind his back and only his profile was visible, but Lore recognized Miles’s clothes.

“When was this?” she asked.

“It’s right now,” Van said, glancing at the time. 6:21 p.m.

“Can you zoom in at all?” Lore pleaded.

“I can’t,” Van said. “Do you recognize where that is?”

She leaned closer, scanning the live feed. Terror made it hard to focus on any one detail. “It looks like . . . the lake and the waterfall behind him—I think that’s Morningside Park? It’s not far from here.”

“He has been left there as bait,” Athena warned. “The imposter Ares must have discovered what he means to you. We will need reinforcements if we are to help him.”

Lore’s mind raced. “How fast can the Achillides get here?”

“They’re back in Brooklyn,” Van said. “Even by car it’s at least a half hour. Is it possible the Odysseides never left Manhattan?”

She pulled out her phone. “We’re about to find out. Go get Cas.”

As Athena watched, Lore typed a message to Iro.

I need your help. Come to pond in Morningside Park ASAP.

But there was no reply.

Morningside Park served as the narrow boundary between Morningside Heights, poised high on its hundred-foot cliffs, and Harlem below. Lore and Miles had walked the length of it from 123rd to 110th Street any number of times; she sometimes met him there after he finished classes, or for the promise of lunch on his dime.

It had always unsettled her to see this piece of Manhattan’s original landscape standing defiant in the face of the modern buildings around it. Its rough terrain had refused to be tamed by developers. Dark cliffs interrupted several streets, and the only way to directly continue from one part of a road to another was to pass through the park on foot and use its many staircases to ascend or descend the sheer drop.

As they walked to one of the park’s entrances, Lore spotted a security camera nearby and pointed it out to the others.

“I looped the feeds in all of the park’s cameras,” Van told her. “We’re covered. For now.”

High in the distance, the pale cathedral of St. John the Divine was just visible through the gloom. Lore thought it was as scenic a place as any for a deadly confrontation.

Even considering the impending storm, the park was eerily quiet. She finally understood why when they came across the first body just inside the gate. A woman, with an arrow in her back.

“What news from the Odysseides?” Athena asked.

“Nothing,” Lore said. “But I don’t want to wait any longer. If they come, they come.”

Castor nodded, steeling himself as he rose from his crouch. “Let’s go.”

Then dogs began to howl.

Lore slowed as the realization set in.

“Oh no,” she said softly.

“What?” Van asked. “What’s happening?”

“Wrath isn’t the one who set the trap,” Lore choked out.

“It is my sister,” Athena said, holding her dory firm. “Artemis.”

“INCOMING,” VAN WARNED.

Dozens of dogs, their fur matted and mud-splattered, bounded down the path, barking and yelping. Some were strays, others had seemingly escaped their owners and still had leashes attached to their collars. Saliva foamed at their mouths.

“Bay hounds,” Athena said in disgust. They had armed themselves with the superior Kadmides weapons, and while Lore had chosen a dagger, the goddess had taken a small knife and dory, the latter of which she now used to keep the dogs back.

Bay hounds were used by hunters to chase, then circle up, their prey. They’d bark and howl to keep them cornered until the catch dogs, or the hunter, arrived.