by Addison Fox
As the rush of air took her, she heard a long string of curses from across the room.
Quinn slammed his elbow into the windpipe of the closest Destroyer and tried to assess the space in the center of the deck. Although the yacht was large, there was a literal horde of Destroyers on deck.
Where the fuck was Montana?
Quinn swung his arm, sword fully extended, toward the shoulder of his current opponent. Although it wasn’t a death blow, it should damn well slow his fire. The guy had lasered a series of fireballs at Quinn’s chest and he was now gritting his teeth through the pain and the heat. It was about fucking time the asshole got a little something-something in return.
Pulling back his arm Quinn thrust his blade, allowing his opponent had no time to regroup. No time to sidestep the blow. The sword removed the Destroyer’s head in one clean swipe and a loud sucking noise followed the movements of Quinn’s sword.
Score.
He glanced quickly down the line, where each of his brothers—as well as Ilsa, Callie and Ava—all fought their own opponents.
But no Montana.
And no sign of Arturo.
Refocusing, Quinn parried a rogue fireball with his sword, then shifted on the balls of his feet to lend Drake a hand. The Destroyer he battled had given up all pretense of throwing electricity and instead had gone for the body, grabbing Drake in a headlock.
Quinn lifted his blade arm and slashed downward, again going for the beefiest part of the guy’s shoulder.
If he’d learned anything over the years it was that in their human form they felt enough pain that battle wounds slowed them down and messed with their focus.
Amidst the screams and shouting, the battle cries and the loud, crackling electricity flying around the ship’s deck, Quinn’s fear grew. He channeled it into combat, but he couldn’t stop the frustration and anger from roaring through his mind in equal measure.
Where was she?
And when would the real battle with Arturo begin?
Montana held her ground in the small alcove off the deck. She shifted from foot to foot in impatience and an odd eagerness to see this through.
She wanted to be out there—desperately wanted to help them—but she knew she had to hold back. She wasn’t an immortal yet and she didn’t have an effective weapon.
There was no way she could do anything but slow the others down as they battled the Destroyer threat out there.
What she did have on her side was the element of surprise. Arturo and Enyo weren’t going to know what hit them—literally. Tearing her gaze from where Quinn fought next to Drake, she glanced down at the lethal Sig Sauer that her father had kept locked on the yacht.
Yet again, Montana had to give Black Jack credit. He might have been a lousy father for all the day-today stuff, but he’d ensured she knew how to handle a weapon.
And the cool piece in her hand was going a long way toward reassuring her she could survive this.
Of course, it wasn’t likely to do much permanent damage against an immortal.
So where were Enyo and Arturo?
And where was Eris? Even if she had to run up from below deck, she should be here by now.
One by one, Quinn and his mates leveled the deck until all that remained were a series of greasy spots. As the last Destroyer fell, a shout went up through the group.
Joy filled her at their victorious faces and Montana couldn’t help but revel in their victory. As her hand reached for the door to push it open, it slammed outward on its hinges.
Before she could lift the weapon or get off a shot, Arturo had her in his grip and sent them both whirling into a port.
Chapter Twenty-three
The air whirled around her, shimmering like an eerie, ethereal mist as the gun in her hand clattered to the floor and slid away.
Where were they?
She could see the deck—with everyone on it—but it was like she stood in a pool of water behind glass and couldn’t reach any of them.
What was this?
She became aware of Arturo’s clench on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her collarbone, and she registered pain.
Arturo’s voice boomed next to her ear. “Drop the weapons.”
The sound of her weapon hitting the ground caused Quinn to whirl in their direction, confusion riding his features like a mask before he spun back in the direction he’d been facing.
Couldn’t he see them?
“Quinn!” Montana couldn’t stop the shout, even as Arturo’s fingers dug deeper into her shoulder.
Arturo’s voice was as menacing as his grip. “I’ve got your woman and there’s a knife pointed right at her. So I suggest you do as I say.”
Quinn faced them again and acid burned through her chest at the confusion and panic she saw in his eyes.
Was it really possible he couldn’t see them?
His name was on her lips again, breath filling her lungs to cry out when a sharp pressure registered in her desperation to get to Quinn. Glancing down through the filmy mist, Montana saw the long, sharp knife that pressed to her side.
She’d seen matching weapons on Quinn and his brothers. And she’d read about them in the texts Quinn had given her about Themis and Zeus.
Arturo had a Xiphos pressed against her rib cage. The weapon might have been millennia old, but it was so razor sharp it could have been forged yesterday.
Terror filled her as Montana admitted the raw, aching truth to herself.
She was still a mortal.
And Arturo had her right where he wanted her.
What was going on?
Icy sweat ran down his back as Quinn fought to get his bearings.
He knew Arturo was there with them. Heard the man’s voice and Montana’s cries.
So where were they?
Drake made a motion from across the deck, catching Quinn’s eye. The Pisces mouthed the word “invisible,” even as Quinn shook it off like a pitcher throwing off his catcher.
Before Drake could do anything else, Ilsa grabbed a pillow from the couches that ran the perimeter of the boat and slid it across the deck.
The pillow’s forward motion stopped, as if by some invisible force.
But how was it even possible?
Quinn ran through the various gifts from the goddess. Invisibility wasn’t on the list—never had been—and he knew no Warrior who could do that.
Had Arturo traded up when he defected from the Warriors? Or did he know something the rest of them didn’t?
“You’ve been a sniveling coward all along. Show yourself if you want to prove you’ve still got the goods.” Although he fought to hang on to a sense of calm so he could assess the threat, all he could imagine was Montana in the grip of that monster.
“This is between you and me, Arturo. Show yourself and let us end this as the true Warriors we are.”
Arturo’s voice quavered around the edges, but his words rang out across the ship’s deck. “She will pay. She will pay for the sins of her mother.”
“She’s done nothing.”
“She exists! That is enough.” Arturo’s voice shook harder and Quinn caught the slightest shimmer of a mirage about twenty feet away.
Gotcha!
Deep down, Quinn sensed all he needed to do was keep the man talking. They were all tired—each of them had ported several times—and the shit wore you down. Whatever skill Arturo possessed to make himself invisible, Quinn also knew the immutable laws of their bodies couldn’t be breached.
Depletion of energy weakened powers and the asshole was running on empty.
If he could wear him down, he could get a real read on Arturo’s position.
Quinn caught movement from the corner of his eye. The rest of the Warriors moved up behind him, a phalanx of support fanning out across the deck.
“I’ve done some checking up on you, you know. You might have been chosen by Themis, but you’re a bit of a fuckup, aren’t you?”
Quinn had to hand it to Rogan. Although the archer hadn’t c
aught Arturo the first go-round, he’d made up for it in record time. Rogan had spent the morning hitting up his contacts and going through the Warriors’ archives. They had some gaps in their knowledge, but Quinn had enough of what he needed to keep the traitor off guard and talking.
“I’m not a sniveling servant like the rest of you. Themis thought she could control me. Own me!” The air shimmered again and Quinn could just make out the silhouette of two bodies.
His heart clenched as he took in the subtle curve of Montana’s cheek before her image winked out again as Arturo got himself under control.
“So you thought you’d make a little gigolo of yourself on Mount Olympus. And a mercenary for the gods, to boot. Which clearly worked out so well, seeing as how you kept fucking every skirt—including client’s wives—instead of doing your job.”
A sloppy laugh floated into the ether. “Can I help it if I’m irresistible?”
Quinn ignored the rank irritation of the laugh and went in for the kill. “Until you found the one woman who didn’t think you were irresistible. Right?”
“What would you know of that?”
Fucking direct hit.
The air shimmered for the briefest of moments and then Montana and Arturo filled out before him.
Everyone leaped to attention immediately. Quinn ported for Montana, dragging her out of Arturo’s grasp just as his brothers leaped on top of the fallen Taurus.
Quinn dragged her away, desperate for the feel of her in his arms.
“Oh gods, are you okay?” He pressed his face into her hair and breathed deeply. His heart pounded so hard he shook and all Quinn could do was hang on to her.
“I’m fine, Quinn. I promise you, I’m fine.”
Pulling his head back, he ran his hands over her frame. “Did he hurt you? I will fucking kill him if he hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt. I’m not.”
Quinn bent his head to press his lips against hers. Soon the grunts and groans mere feet away from them faded into nothingness as he reassured himself of the woman in his arms. Montana kissed him back in kind, the press of her lips firm against his. Reassuring. Life affirming.
“Oh gods, I thought—”
Quinn broke off as a stab of pain shot across his back and down his spine. Montana screamed as he twisted in agony and without warning, Quinn felt his knees give way as he fell to floor.
“Sorry to interrupt your little reunion, but we’re far from done here.”
Quinn struggled to his knees, unwilling to fall before anyone. Unwilling to leave the woman he loved without protection. “Look what the cat drag—” He broke off as he saw what Enyo had in her grip.
“Mom!” Montana screamed as Enyo pulled Eirene forward like a rag doll.
“The bull dragged me, actually.” Enyo flicked a glance to where Arturo struggled in the twin grips of Drake and Kane. “And look at what I found as I searched around the boat.”
Quinn struggled to his feet, ignoring the flames that licked every part of his body. He had to get Eirene out of Enyo’s grasp, but he had to keep Montana safe. “You’re behind this?”
“Sadly, not all of it. Lucky for me, I know how to improvise.”
“You bitch!” Arturo screamed from where the guys held him. “This is mine! My revenge. Mine!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Arturo. I told you you could have Eirene.”
“Mom?” Montana’s voice trembled behind him, where he shielded her with his body.
“Get her out of here, Quinn,” Eirene pleaded.
“We won’t leave you.”
Enyo pulled Eirene closer and laid a finger against her neck. One bloodred fingernail stood out in sharp relief against the thin skin of Eirene’s frail body. “No, you won’t.”
Sorrow filled Montana and she winced as Enyo dragged her mother forward.
Had it really come to this?
Enyo’s gaze never wavered off of Quinn. “Let go of Arturo. Now.”
She trusted Quinn implicitly, but would he comply with this? Could he?
Quinn took one of her hands in his and squeezed, before turning his full focus on the avenging goddess. “You made a bad deal on this one, Enyo. Since when do you get yourself involved in Warrior politics?”
“Since it benefits me.”
“The traitor would betray you as fast as he did us. The moment you turn you back.”
“He actually did that already. However, it’s lucky for him I like all of you a lot less than I do him. So let him go. Now. Oh, and be good boys and give him his weapon back, too.”
“Kane. Drake. You heard the bitch. Let him go.”
Montana took in Quinn’s words. No matter what happened—no matter the outcome—she would be forever grateful Quinn put her mother first.
And in doing so, he put her first.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Quinn squeezed her hand again, but before she could squeeze it back, a loud, piercing scream rent the air as Arturo leaped forward.
A war cry echoed off his lips and before Montana could move, Arturo landed on top of her.
The bull that rode high on his shoulder sprang to life and Quinn shifted on his heel to give the animal its head. Man and beast leaped toward the threat, pulling back at the very last moment.
Throwing himself to the side, Quinn tumbled into a heap on top of Brody, to keep from landing on top of Arturo and Montana.
A Xiphos rose in the air, lethal despite the trembling hand that held it, as Arturo stared mindlessly at Montana, his murderous intent clear.
Before Quinn could move—before any of them could get closer—Eirene screamed. With a strength born of desperation, Eirene threw herself against Arturo, the Xiphos piercing her heart.
Great white light suffused their surroundings and a shrill ethereal scream pierced the air. Without care for whatever else was to come, Quinn leaped forward, his own Xiphos extended to slash at Arturo’s throat.
The traitor fell immediately; Eirene’s weight, coupled with the slash to his neck, dropped him to the deck floor.
Quinn was on the move immediately, intent on dragging Eirene off of Arturo when a warm hand pressed against his shoulder.
Themis.
She stood before them, taking immediate control of the situation.
“Well, just in time. Look who shows up right on cue.” Enyo mocked the goddess, but Quinn saw the edge of fear that tinged her gaze.
Themis took it all in stride. “And look who’s made yet another bad choice in whom to ally herself with.”
“Your days are numbered, Themis. Arturo told me all about his defection. How little control you really have and how easy it was for him to leave you.” Enyo took a few steps back, even while her words dripped with vitriolic acid. “Your power is waning, old woman. And your Warriors will turn against you, one by one.”
“Just as your Destroyers have? Your supposed minions to whom you gave no choice?”
“They belong to me.”
Quinn watched on in amazement as Themis maintained her composure. “And that is the great difference between you and I. I do give my Warriors choice. It is their greatest gift.”
“Enyo!” A woman appeared on the far side of the deck along with Rogan. She raced forward and only as she got nearer did Quinn notice the resemblance. “What have you done?”
“I did as I promised.”
“You weren’t supposed to kill her. Not Eirene.”
“You weren’t here and I needed to improvise. She simply got in the way.” Enyo shifted her gaze, effectively ignoring her sister and anything else she might have to say. “Your days are numbered, Themis. Just wait.”
Enyo shifted into a port, reaching for her sister as she disappeared.
“Mother!” Montana skirted around him to run to her mother. Tears streamed down her face as she reached for the woman. Before she could fully pull her into her arms, Themis laid a hand on her back.
“Please, Montana. Allow me.”
With gentle movements
, Themis lifted her daughter and walked her body over to a line of couches that surrounded the deck. Gently laying Eirene down, Themis knelt before the body as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
“Oh, my daughter, what have I done?” The goddess leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Eirene’s. “What have I done?”
Eirene’s lips moved, air trickling through them in a whisper. “Mother.”
“Yes, my darling child. I am here.”
With stiff movements, Eirene extended her hand toward Montana. She raced forward and reached for her mother’s hand. “Why did you do that?”
“I’ve failed you all my life, Daughter. But no longer. You shall live. And you shall love.”
Montana leaned forward and pressed her lips to her mother’s forehead, her shoulders shaking with grief as Eirene’s grip slackened in her hand.
Quinn moved up beside Montana and reached for her as the rest of his family gathered around behind them.
“Goddess. Can we help you?”
Themis lifted her head and turned her tear-streaked face to his. “Nay, Warrior, you cannot. Only I must bear the knowledge I turned my daughter away out of my own stubborn, unrelenting pride.”
Quinn swallowed around a lump in his throat, Themis’s words cutting so close to his own image of himself, he could barely stand upright. Kneeling beside her, Quinn leaned forward to lay his hand over Themis’s. “I know of stubborn pride, goddess. Let me help you.”
When Themis turned toward Quinn, her blue eyes looked like enormous jewels. “Choices, Quinn. It is always about choice. You made a choice once, but when it mattered, you came through, last year on the cave in Mount Ida. Now you must make the choice to forgive yourself.”
“But how?”
“Embrace what you have been given. Protect this woman with your life and love her fiercely. Care for her and allow her to care for you. Do the same for your Warrior brothers and sisters.”
“And what of Montana? Must she rise to replace Eirene as the Horae?”
At that, Themis stood and moved to her granddaughter. Both women wept openly for Eirene, but Montana stood taller as her grandmother approached.