It was a dismissal. I rose from the chair, my movements measured and deliberate. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me storm out. I gave Julian a stiff, formal nod, and then looked at Orion.
“I trust you’ll have a safe journey back to your… ship,” I said. The word was an insult, a reminder of his isolation, his detachment from the world of real power.
Orion’s lips curved in a smile that held no warmth. “The sea is always safe, for those who know how to navigate its depths.”
I turned and walked toward the doors of the solarium, the light of the unending sun at my back. I could feel both their gazes on me, two distinct pressures. Julian’s was the analytical, watchful eye of a political predator. As for Orion… I didn’t know what he was playing at, but it had something to do with Andie.
Just as I reached the threshold, Julian’s voice cut through the air one last time.
“Alexander,” he said. I stopped but did not turn. “Your logic regarding the Blackwood affair was, on the surface, impeccable. But do not mistake my adherence to protocol for naivety. I have no doubt that, whatever your reasons, not a single one of them was born from the goodness of your heart.”
The doors slid shut behind me, leaving them in their pocket of eternal summer. The corridor outside was cool and silent, the marble echoing the sound of my footsteps. The mask of control I had maintained for the entire meeting finally cracked.
My father’s greatest failing wasn’t his lechery. It was his blindness. He never saw the real threats until they were already at his throat. I would not make the same mistake.
I had come here to manage one front, to placate a self-righteous judge. I was leaving with two. Julian, with his prophetic games, was a threat to my power. But Orion… Orion was a threat toher. And in the silent, cold calculus of my heart, I knew which of those threats was the one I would kill to eliminate.
6
Just a Beta
Andie
The bell above the door to Mama Li’s Noodle House chimed, a familiar sound that almost soothed the buzzing under my skin. The air inside was a humid cloud of star anise, simmering broth, and ginger. The scent had meant a safe space for the better part of a decade. Almost like Robert’s chicken, if not quite so close to my heart.
This wasourplace. Danae’s and mine. A tiny pocket of the world free from Olympian politics, Alpha posturing, and the suffocating weight of my mother’s expectations.
Mr. Chen looked up from behind the counter, his face crinkling into a gentle smile. He was a small, wiry Beta man with kindeyes. His wife, Mama Li, ruled the kitchen with an iron wok and a heart of gold.
“Ah, Cross Xiaojie,” he said, his voice warm. “Just you today? Your friend is not yet here.”
“She’s on her way, Mr. Chen,” I said, doing my best to hide my anxiety.
“Good, good. The usual booth is ready for you.” He gestured toward the back, to the private room Danae and I always used. “The oolong is already waiting.”
I slid into the booth, the worn velvet of the seat a familiar comfort. The room was sectioned off by a dark wood screen carved with coiling dragons. It was also where I would finally get the weapon I needed. After the disaster with my fathers, Danae was the only one who could help me.
Alexander was trying to break me. To dismantle the independent life I had clawed out for myself, piece by painful piece. Or perhaps he was trying to chip his way through my defenses again, just like that night, on theOdyssey. No doubt, he’d use the chaos in my life and eventually present himself as my savior.
But Danae would see through it. Danae, with her beautiful, logical mind, would cut through the manipulation and find the hard data. A coded message. An offshore payment. A weather anomaly. Something. Anything. Her data was my only hope for survival.
I poured myself a cup of the fragrant tea Mr. Chen had left, my hand trembling slightly. The warmth of the cup did little to ward off the cold dread coiling in my gut.
The screen to our booth slid open. Danae slipped inside, her cheeks flushed from the city chill. She offered me a small, apologetic smile as she shrugged off her coat.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sliding onto the bench opposite me. “There was a water main break on 5th, and the entire street is chaos.”
It was a simple, mundane, human problem. It shouldn’t have irritated me as much as it did. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, my voice tight with anticipation. “Did you find him?”
“I found… a lot of things,” she said, her usual directness tempered with a note of caution. She produced a House Hephaestus data slate and booted it up. “Okay. I ran a full diagnostic on the last three events you flagged. The Beaumont wedding was the key.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “The storm,” I breathed, leaning forward.
“Exactly.” She tapped the screen, bringing up a series of meteorological charts. “It appeared on the satellite with less than a ten-minute warning and dissipated just as quickly. So, I ran the data against every known power signature of a House Zeus Alpha going back fifty years.” She looked up at me, and my stomach plummeted. There was no triumphant spark in hereyes. Only a quiet frustration. “There’s no match, Andie. The energy patterns, the ozone decay… it’s all wrong. This was a natural weather event. A one-in-a-million statistical anomaly.”
The words were just noise. They didn’t compute. My mind was back in the mud and the driving rain. The bride had sobbed hysterically as I’d shielded her ruined dress from the photographers. An anomaly? No. It was a targeted strike
“A fluke?” I repeated, the word tasting like poison. “Danae, the cake van was stranded for two hours. The power went out in the middle of the reception. The string quartet’s instruments were warped by the humidity. It was a systematic demolition of my work.”