That last thought scorched her with the kind of blistering hope Lore hadn’t been sure she was capable of anymore. Free. All of them.

Athena had seen the secret longing in her to be more. Lore had only ever been kidding herself when she thought she’d be able to shake off this week and return to the life she’d created. The Agon was an addiction, and only its true end would purge it from her—and not just her, but all the others who fought and killed for centuries in the search for that same more.

Even if Castor was forced into the realm of gods and separated from her again, he would be alive. The pain of knowing what she would gain and lose made Lore feel as if she’d torn her own lungs from her chest.

In time, she could accept it, though. She could be content knowing he was out there. . . .

Well, maybe not content.

“In that case, you’d think Zeus would have been a little more specific,” Lore groused.

“Not if the Agon was meant to be more than punishment . . .” Castor said, trailing off. “Never mind. I have no idea what I’m talking about. We’ll take this back to Van and Miles. I’m sure they’ll both have thoughts.”

She nodded.

“You know,” Lore began, something else occurring to her. “Athena wondered if you were somehow a true god, or another god in disguise—but that would mean you were somehow borrowing Apollo’s power, and wouldn’t he have to be alive for that to be true?”

“Artemis said something similar,” Castor said. “That I had his power, but that I was different . . . I’m limited in the same way they are, though, even in full immortal form. I don’t have all of his abilities, only the ones I’ve used.”

She gave him a thoughtful look. “Do you think Apollo figured out the meaning of this and escaped? Maybe he did need you to help him in some way, and you can’t remember because Zeus wants all of the gods to unravel it for themselves.”

Castor looked down at his upturned hands. “But then why do I have his power? Athena wasn’t wrong. When I call on it, it’s more like . . . dipping a hand into a warm river and pulling from it. Or . . . there’s always a candle inside me, but I can feed it with more fire if I reach for it. Am I making any sense?”

“You are,” she reassured him. “The little shred of good news is that we don’t have to figure all of this out right now. I think we have to focus on stopping whatever Wrath has planned. Cas, he still has to die. We can’t let him regain his immortality and come back for Van or Miles or any of the others.”

“Athena is still a problem, too,” Castor said. “She won’t hesitate to punish you and the others.”

Lore rubbed her forehead, trying not to imagine her family. What the goddess had done to them.

“I can do it,” Castor said.

“Cas—” she began.

“I can kill them,” he insisted. “That way, no mortal can claim their powers. And if I really can’t die myself—”

“Can we please not test that theory again?” Lore asked.

“There’s no other choice,” he said. “When they’re gone, and the week is over, we’ll have seven years to figure out the riddle of the inscription before the start of the next hunt.”

And seven years to figure out how to lose you forever, Lore thought, miserably.

Castor took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Did Athena give you any sort of indication about her plans now?”

She shook her head. “She doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the buildings around them. Lightning traced a path across the clouds, illuminating Castor’s face.

Lore picked up the shield, sliding her arm through its leather straps. Somehow, she knew what to do.

She slammed a fist against the front of the shield, and the roar that burst from it was deeper than thunder—it was primordial.

It raged through the air, bellowing through the quiet streets. She struck it again, and again, until her ears rang and she heard the call echo back to her from distant buildings. The power blazed through her. She felt invincible.

Castor turned and turned, as if the noise was a monster to be chased. He paled as he took in the sight of the aegis again, pulling away from it. Lore drew it closer to her.

Stop, she thought. I don’t want him to ever be afraid.

Yes, a voice seemed to whisper back. He is not our enemy.

He rubbed a hand against his chest as he faced her again. This time, his posture and expression relaxed.

Thank you, Lore thought. One last thing.

She took her small blade, slashing across the shield. The dark air flashed white with lightning.

“Now she knows,” Lore said.

MILES WAS WAITING FOR them at the top of the stairs as they arrived back at the office space, turning his phone over and over in his hands. He was so deep in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice them.

In the second it took him to jump to his feet, Lore had already run up the steps between them, nearly knocking Miles over as she threw her arms around him.

Miles let out a shocked, breathless laugh before giving her a hard squeeze.

“Are you all right?” she asked him, near tears at the relief of seeing him.

“Am I all right?” he repeated, pulling back to give her a thorough once-over. Lore’s gaze landed on a brutal-looking bruise on his forehead.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” she began. “With the meet, and Artemis—”

“I wanted to go,” Miles said. He glanced over to Castor, a silent question on his face.

“Right where you said she would be,” Castor confirmed.

“Where the app said she would be,” Miles said, miserably.

Lore hugged him. The new skin over her ribs pulled with the movement, but she held on, clinging to Miles the way he clung to her.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“Thank technology and the magic of cellular service,” Miles said. “All I did was worry.”

“You did more than that,” Lore said.

“You’re right,” he said. “I also stress-ate the entire sleeve of crackers that was supposed to be our meal for the day. Van had to go out and try to find more food and water.”

“I’m serious,” Lore said.

“No, it’s true,” he said. “My mom also called. A lot. So that was fun. She was about to get in her car and drive up here. I told her not to, but she refused to hang up until I sent her a hostage-style photo to prove that I was fine.”

Miles ran a hand back over his dark hair. He was starting to get a bit of a shadow as a beard grew in, and there were dark bruises beneath his eyes. But when he smiled, all of the week’s wear and tear seemed to vanish.

“I have some clothes for you,” he said, leading them into the vacant office space.

Van and Miles had done some mild redecorating in the last few hours. Scattered bags of supplies were stacked here and there on the plastic tarps covering the floor. Miles went to one of them, digging out a small bundle of clothes.

“Van didn’t think it was safe to go back to the town house, and the selection at the shelter wasn’t great,” Miles said, handing them to her. “I figured you’d want another pair of jeans that actually fit you, but I have to warn you that the wash on them is very two seasons ago.”