The summer Annabeth fell in love was the beginning of the end of the world.
She'd been two months away from 17, colossally arrogant and determined to prove her worth with the unstoppable fierceness that came with being a teenager. Finding love was not a priority. It was a distant milepost on the map of her grand life plan, and she — a child of clean logic and academia and sparking grey matter — had little interest in the messy matters of the heart.
Naturally, that was when Luke Castellan had wandered back into her life.
At the time, Luke hadn't been much more than a longing afterthought, a secret what if? she didn't dare give serious attention to. She'd always admired and adored Luke, but he'd forever been out of her reach, even before he left camp and became popular in the moral world. Now, he was unattainable, and certainly wouldn't look twice at his kid sidekick with the silly crush he'd left behind.
Luke was the silly daydream of a little girl, not a serious and determined teenager with a spine of steel.
Until one day, he wasn't.
A failed quest. A new scar. Waning popularity and mortal friends showing their true colors. A return to the safe haven of his youth, to those who would always care.
A return to the girl who still admired him after failure, who still wanted to impress him and earn his favor; the girl who foolishly held a small flicker of hope in her neglected heart.
The girl who wasn't so little any more.
One day, he looked twice.
And the end of the world crept closer.
+
"Need a refill?"
"What?" Annabeth glanced up as her friend entered the room, startled. Piper Mclean-Grace nodded toward the pile of cardboard and styrofoam on the dark wood of the coffee table — all that remained of Annabeth's latte from Et Tu Brewte. She shook her head, pushing the ruined cup away from her. "No, that's okay. I'm fine. Probably had too much caffeine already, honestly. I'm just… just…"
She threw up her hands, at a loss to describe the maelstrom of emotions and memories building inside her. The fact that her anxiety had only led her to shred the cup was pretty good, all things considered. She was struggling to build up her walls, to shove those emotions into their familiar compartments until the crisis had passed, which only added to her frustration. But she supposed even daughters of Athena couldn't be completely level headed when their world was minutes away from imploding.
"Don't I know it," Piper said, flopping onto the leather couch across from Annabeth. "This is a real mess."
Annabeth grimaced and started to apologize, but a dark look from the other woman shut her up. She'd done nothing but apologize since she'd arrived at the embassy, despite Piper telling her there was nothing to apologize for. She was clearly sick of hearing it now, so Annabeth tried for a different track.
"I can't believe they won't let you in there," she said, indicating the closed door to Jason's study. "You're the embassy communications director. You should be the one hammering this deal out, not Jason."
"Again, tell me something I don't know," Piper grumbled. "Jason already got an earful from me about it before you got here, but I guess they only agreed to negotiate if I stayed away. Apparently, there were concerns about sabotage and that I'd Charmspeak them into forgetting about the story entirely."
Annabeth arched an eyebrow. "You'd do that?"
"If it lasted more than a few hours? Most definitely," she said. "Wouldn't be the first time I've used Charmspeak to squash a story before it starts gaining momentum. It's much more effective to tell them to destroy whatever notes or footage they have instead. Then you tell them to forget about it when they call to scream at you for being a conniving witch."
"I still don't think they have anything," Annabeth said, absently reaching for the shredded coffee cup pieces again. "They just can't, Piper."
Logically, Annabeth knew that Jason wouldn't be meeting with ONN's top brass and one of their best reporters right now if whatever story they had wasn't rock solid. But Annabeth's reaction was always the same whenever this topic reared its ugly head: clinging to denial for as long as she safely could.
The rumors and conspiracy theories about the "real" killer of Kronos had started almost as soon as she and Jason had exited the Empire State Building that day seven years ago. Reddit and other corners of the Internet were full of amatuer sleuths trying to solve the mystery or explain away the inconsistencies in the Great Prophecy. If mainstream outlets had an occasional reporter or two looking into the rumors just for the sake of protective coverage, they kept quiet about it. No one wanted to be the one that accused the Hero of Olympus of being a liar without significant proof.
Unfortunately for all the would-be and professional detectives out there, only three people knew exactly what had happened in Olympus's throne room the day Kronos was defeated. One of them was dead, and there was no incentive for either Jason or Annabeth to talk to the media.
They'd told a handful of people the truth after all the godly proclamations and celebrations were over, and only unanswered questions and hurt remained. Annabeth had never expected Jason to keep this kind of secret from Piper or Leo, and she hadn't been able to it from Chiron either. The cabin heads deserved to know what happened as well — Luke had been one of them before he turned, after all. It'd be a risk, but none of them were the sort to blab to the press, even after Annabeth blew up her friendships in a self-destructive fury a year or two later.
The former leaders of Camp Half-Blood might not care about Annabeth, but they all respected Jason far too much to hurt him like that.
Well, all of them except one.
"It was Clarisse, wasn't it?" Annabeth said after Piper said nothing, her agitation increasing. "It had to be her. She was never okay with this. She said I was weak, letting him walk all over me like that, remember? Just like with — "
Piper gently placed her hand over Annabeth's and pulled the coffee cup out of her grasp.
"Clarisse should've never said those things — and I don't think she would've if she'd known just how badly you were hurting," Piper interrupted calmly, but her kaleidoscope eyes were bright with fury. "I don't think any of us really understood it at the time, but looking back…"
Piper trailed off, but she didn't need to finish. Annabeth knew exactly what she would have said.
Had Annabeth taken the credit for ending Kronos — for killing Luke — seven years ago, the scrutiny and public attention would have certainly killed her.
Clarisse had never understood that. Even from the early days at camp, she'd resented Jason for being a glory hog, for constantly getting more attention than the rest of them because he was a son of Zeus. To her, Jason taking credit for killing Kronos was the last straw, a prime example of the godly favoritism they'd just fought an entire war over. And Annabeth? Annabeth was the pathetic enabler who'd do anything to keep the son of Zeus happy and by her side, even if he didn't want her there any more.
Never mind that she and Jason had played equal roles in the end. Never mind that Annabeth had begged him to say he'd been the one to do it. For Clarisse, the whole thing was just another opportunity to expose Jason as an overhyped fraud.
"She's kept quiet all this time. Why say anything now? Why couldn't she just let it go?"
"This is Clarisse we're talking about. She could give Nico a run for the money in the grudge holding department," Piper said. "And anyway, we don't know for sure it was her who blabbed. With that fight of yours plastered everywhere, it could've been anyone. I had half the mind to call a few of my contacts and let it slip after some of the shit they were saying on the morning shows."
Of course. Of course it would come back to that goddamn video. What wasn't it going to ruin?
The conspiracy theorists had never gained any serious traction over the years partly because none of them really believed a daughter of Athena was strong or skilled enough to take down a Titan. Her presence on Mount Olympus over during the final battle had always been a source of confusion, the one thing that never made sense to even the casual observers. A popular theory was that she had been a hostage Jason had rescued, mostly because Annabeth hadn't had a high public profile until the last few weeks of the war and footage of her in action was limited… until now.
She'd given them all the proof they'd ever need. Anyone who could keep up with a child of the Big Three years after the war certainly had it in her to face a Titan.
"That flattering, were they?"
"The New York-based ones have been okay, but I'd recommend avoiding the Roman outlets altogether. They've been pretty vicious, though they're starting to direct some of it at the son of Neptune now. Speaking of him…" Piper turned the shredded remains of the coffee cup over where a phone number and the name Percy were written on the side in thick black ink. "You wanna explain this?"
Annabeth flushed; she hadn't even noticed that until now. "I… I might have been getting coffee with him when Jason called?"
"What, seriously? What'd he want?"
"To talk, mostly. Not that we got to do much of that before I ran out of there."
"How… normal of him," Piper said, tossing the piece on to the table. "Jason was convinced he'd try to have you murdered by the end of the day."
"He wouldn't — he liked that I kicked his ass, Piper. It's everyone else here that has a problem with it." Annabeth stared at the bold numbers and the scrawl of Percy's name. Had he written that on there before or after she'd freaked out and fled the coffee shop? Would he answer if she called? "He's not what I expected."
"Cute, isn't he?"
She let out a laugh, recalling Percy's striking features and the delicious intensity he exuded. "Cute is not the word I would use."
"Yeah, whatever. Tall, dark, and full of attitude really isn't my flavor." Piper paused to survey Annabeth for a moment; she hoped whatever remained of her embarrassed flush had disappeared. Apparently it hadn't, because Piper's next words were full of caution. "You need to be careful around him, Annabeth."
Annabeth rolled her eyes, a surge of irritation sweeping through her. She'd been eager to distract herself from talk of Kronos and Luke — but not if this was the other option. "Your husband already gave me this lecture. I don't need to hear it again."
"Just hear me out, okay? I've watched the way Percy Jackson moves through New Roman society. He's smart and charming — and I'll admit, pretty damn handsome — but he's a calculating, manipulative asshole underneath it all. I mean, he's not evil or anything, but he is not a good guy. If he's seeking you out, he definitely has other motives besides wanting to talk."
"I know what he wants: sex," she said, picking up the piece of cardboard with Percy's number on it. "I'm not an idiot, Piper."
"No, but you've got a blind spot for guys like him, Annabeth. He's not good for you."
Annabeth frowned, clenching the cardboard piece in her hand. She had told herself all of this already about Percy Jackson. Despite the glimmers of normalcy he'd displayed, she knew he was exactly the type of man she didn't need if she wanted to keep her stable, normal little life in one piece. It irritated her that Piper and Jason both seemed to think she couldn't handle him, that she was some sort of fragile little girl he could break in a night or two.
It wasn't long ago that Piper could've used the same words to describe Annabeth. Sheh had become a master at collecting information and using people to get what she wanted during the war; she'd always known the right things to say or do, how to play people for her own benefit or against each other, and then stab them in the back when she was finished. Annabeth had never been called charming, though — just ruthless .
She'd lost some of her edge since then — the old Annabeth, for instance, wouldn't have let Eastman dismiss her without a fight nor would she be sitting around, anxiously tearing up coffee cups while Jason negotiated her future — but that part of her still existed, still bubbled to the surface every now and then. Had her friends forgotten who she was?
If they had, it was understandable, Annabeth thought bitterly. She had, after all, forgotten first.
Jason's office door rattled and swung open suddenly, causing all thoughts of the son of Neptune to slide right out of her head. Annabeth froze as several people, including a camera man, poured out of the office, but Piper leapt to her feet and strode over, her heels clicking furiously on the wooden floor.
" — excellent, can't wait to talk the whole thing through on camera tomorrow," a familiar looking brunette woman with a distinctive Texas drawl said to Jason as he escorted her out of the office. She heard Piper approach and flashed her a triumphant, shark-like smile. "Piper, there you are. We have so much to hash out, dear."
"Is that so, Margot?" Piper shot an indecipherable look at her husband before focusing on the woman, turning on that extra spark of Aphrodite magic that could make her the center of attention in any room. "Shall we chat about it on your way out?"
"As long as you keep that magic of yours to yourself," Margot said, all saccharine sweetness. Her tone was so familiar. Where had Annabeth heard it before? "Not that it matters. I gave my producers plenty of backups, just in case I somehow manage to forget the story of the decade."
"Your resourcefulness is just so admirable," Piper shot back blandly. This probably wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation with Margot. She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. "Jason just sent me the basics of what you and he agreed to, but he'll be consulting with Miss Chase here shortly, so don't get too comfortable with this schedule."
Piper gestured for the group to follow her out of the room; the ONN executives and the camera man complied, but Margot, her attention piqued at the mention of Annabeth's name, peered around Piper's shoulder, delight blooming across her face when she spotted Annabeth in the waiting room.
"You must be Annabeth," Margot said, pushing past Piper and hurrying over to where Annabeth was sitting. She held out a hand. "It's a real honor to meet you. I didn't think Jason was going to introduce us before our interview tomorrow; that boy does love to keep me on my toes."
Annabeth started at Margot's outstretched hand uncomprehendingly — an interview? What in Hades name was she talking about? — and then glanced up at the woman's face. At the sight of the wide, fake smile on Margot's lips, recognition hit Annabeth like a lightning bolt.
This was Margot Keyes, the mortal co-anchor of the Lochte & Keyes nightly news block on ONN. She was known for her scathing social commentary and viral rants more so than her investigative reports, but she somehow always managed to get her hands on juicy, blockbuster stories before anyone else. Margot had gotten her start more than a decade earlier as a talking head on a trashy gossip show focused on demigod celebrities and their exploits; Annabeth could still remember some of the more awful things the woman in front of her had said about her friends back in the day.
Margot Keyes had been the one to uncover the truth about Kronos? Annabeth's stomach dropped.
"You don't look like much of a Titan Killer," Margot continued blithely, unbothered by Annabeth's lack of response. "Don't let that cut your cheek heal up before tomorrow; it'll give you a tough edge that viewers will just eat up — "
"Miss Keyes," Jason said, appearing at Margot's side, warning in his voice. His eyes were an icy shade of blue. "Like we agreed, you'll have your chance to speak to Annabeth tomorrow. She's unavailable right now."
"Oh, you're such a buzzkill, Jason. I just wanted to say hi," the anchor trilled, but she didn't push try to test Jason's temper any further. She turned away and shot Annabeth a sharp smile over her shoulder as walked back to a furious Piper. "See you tomorrow, my darling demigods!"
"Jason," Annabeth hissed as soon as Margot started chattering to Piper. " What — "
"Not here," he muttered, jerking his head toward his office. He offered Annabeth a hand and helped her to feet, guiding her inside the other room.
As soon as he'd shut the door, Annabeth whirled on him. "What's going on? Why does she think she gets to interview me? I'm not talking to her — I'm not talking to anyone!"
Jason leaned against the door, rubbing his forehead with one hand, exhaustion written all over his face. Annabeth felt a pang of pity for him, but it was quickly drowned out by her rising anxiety and fear.
"Margot gets exclusive first interviews with us in exchange for ONN waiting until tonight to break the story," he explained. "It's the best deal I could talk them into. They were going to run it with or without my confirmation as soon as possible, and I need a few hours to — "
"You confirmed it?" she interrupted, aghast. "Why? She could've been lying!"
"She wasn't." Jason pushed himself off the door and walked over to his desk, casually shuffling some folders. "She's been on the story for a while; she was bothering me before you even moved to New Rome. I ignored her, but her most recent emails… she knows details she shouldn't about you and Luke. And the knife."
Annabeth flinched, barely stopping herself from reflexively reaching back and touching her knife. It was a bad habit she'd gotten into, for she could always feel that precious bit of Celestial Bronze pressed against her skin, but sometimes she needed the extra level of reassurance that it was still there, that it hadn't been dropped or stolen since the last time she'd touched it.
Her knife was the true cursed blade of prophecy. Jason's sword, a non-descript gladius, had served as its public substitute; it gleamed almost accusingly at her from where it hung on the wall above Jason's desk.
"I don't care what she knows. We can lean on her sources, get them to recant. Say it was all part of an agenda to discredit you and destabilize your position with…" She trailed off as Jason shot her a pitying look. "What? You think that won't work? Because I'll make whoever it is — "
"It won't matter," he replied, sinking into his chair. "She has video, Annabeth."
"Video? Of what?" Her chest tightened with dread.
"Of us. Afterward. I guess the throne room's cameras were destroyed, but apparently Hermes CCTV was still rolling while we were waiting for the elevator."
Annabeth's knees buckled and she reached out, grabbing onto one of the chairs in front of Jason's desk for support. "What?"
The war hadn't stopped the moment Annabeth had plunged the knife into Luke's side and Kronos had been sent back to Tartarus in pieces. On the ground, the Battle of Manhattan kept raging on as the gods attempted to subdue Typhon and Camp Half-Blood's forces worked to keep Kronos's minions from inflicting any more damage on the city. She and Jason had carried Luke's body down from Mount Olympus to prove he was dead and bring the fighting to a standstill.
The elevator had taken an eternity to return to the top and Annabeth had cradled Luke's slowly cooling body the entire time, brushing his hair back from his face as tears silently tracked down her cheeks. Jason had watched them in silence, until the elevator dinged and the golden doors slid open.
"Hey. We gotta go," Jason said, stepping toward her, exhaustion and grief written on every inch of his body. "Let me take him."
Annabeth's hold on Luke's body tightened unconsciously. He looked so peaceful in death, more than she ever remembered him being in life, and she couldn't stand to see him disturbed. Could he ever had found that peace with her? Maybe. If she'd just been strong enough to save him… if she'd just seen how much he was hurting…
This was all her fault.
"I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Jason, I can't."
"'Beth, you just have to let go," he replied, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll carry him from here, I swear."
"That's not…" She swallowed down a sob and whispered, "Don't tell them I killed him."
Jason's eyes widened. "What?"
"Please. I'm — I'm not a hero; I failed so many people… Luke, especially." Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut, but even that couldn't block out the blankness on her ex-lover's face. "I can't bear this."
"Of course you're a hero."
"I don't want this. I never wanted this ." Her body began to shake with sobs. "It's already killing me, Jason. I won't last — I'm just not strong enough. Please don't tell them."
Jason stared at her opening, a multitude of emotions passing over his face — hatred, uncertainty, greed, love. Finally, he hardened his expression and squared his shoulders. "All right. We'll tell them I did it. Is that okay?"
Annabeth nodded, tears frantically pouring down her face. She was holding on to Luke's body so tightly that her arms and hands ached.
"I need you — I need to you say it, Annabeth. Just so we're both sure this what you really want."
"Yes. Tell them... tell them you did it."
The thought of there being footage of those horrible moments, of anyone but Jason seeing her so utterly broken and vulnerable, made her want to vomit.
"Today was the first time I'd heard about," he continued. "I don't know how she got it, but I convinced her producers to let us watch it first. They won't run anything we don't like."
Annabeth laughed bitterly, knuckles turning white where she gripped the chair. "And you believe them? That was always meant to be just between us. And Luke. What if I don't want them to air any of it?"
"They didn't give me a lot of choices, Annabeth, and I needed time more than anything else," Jason said, clear frustration seeping into his tone now. "What'd you want me to do, tell them to fuck off and shove them out the door? It's that kind of attitude that got us to this point in the first place."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means we wouldn't have this problem if you'd kept your ego in check yesterday!" he snapped, blue eyes flashing with a fury that surprised her. "Challenging the son of Neptune and showing off like that… you had to have known it would draw attention in the worst sort of way."
"I already told you, I didn't know who he was." Jason let out a loud scoff that stoked Annabeth's own irritation. "I didn't. And I certainly didn't know someone was going to record the damn thing! Even if I had, how would I've had known it would matter? You didn't tell me anyone was looking into the Kronos story!"
"There's always someone looking into it, you know that."
"But not someone like Margot Keyes!" Annabeth interrupted, her voice cracking with anger. She let go of the chair and paced across the room. "You know I would've done anything to keep this from coming out. You said she's been emailing you for months, and this — this! — is the first time you told me anything about it. Why is that?"
Jason's lips were pressed into a thin line, making the scar on his upper lip stand out more prominently. There was a hint of ozone in the air, and she was a surprised he hadn't started sparking yet. "Because what she had initially wasn't worth bothering you about. You always stick your head in the sand and tell me to handle it every time this comes up, so that's what I've been doing — handling it."
At last, Annabeth recognized the other emotion burning in Jason's eyes. She knew she'd asked him to shoulder a great burden, to use his strength to make up for her many weaknesses seven years ago. She'd always suspected that he'd resented her for it — for being the blemish in his otherwise golden life, the terrible secret he always had to clean up after. It didn't give her any pleasure to have that suspicion confirmed now, when she needed him to be steady and fair.
"I didn't tell you to keep me in the dark or make decisions for me; I expected to be included when it mattered. And this matters more than anything," she said heatedly, pointing an accusing finger at him. "This affects my life just as much as yours, Jason."
"Oh, and what a life that is."
His nasty comment hit her like a slap in the face, stopping her in her tracks.
How could he say that to her? Jason knew how she'd struggled, how much her past failures still weighed her down. She'd lost everything and had hit rock bottom; it had taken everything she had to claw her way out and to try to make her life worth something again.
She might not have Jason fame or a prestigious position or a loving spouse, but what she did have was just important to her. The idea that he looked down on her for that filled her with hollow despair. What else did he want from her?
"None of this has been easy for me, Annabeth. You haven't made it easy for me. I'm an ambassador now, and I have more important things to deal with than your issues." Jason clearly had more to say, but he visibly stopped himself from continuing, trying to get a control on his anger. He ran a hand through his hair, discharged static electricity with a light crackle, and then let the bland, neutral mask he used during negotiations slam down over his face. "We can discuss this later. Right now, we need to focus on crafting a statement for other media agencies. And then you'll need to be prepped for our meeting with Roman leadership in an hour and tomorrow's interview on ONN. You'll probably need increased security, so — "
"No," Annabeth interrupted stiffly. "I'm not doing any of that."
Jason blinked. The thought that she would refuse to participate in what he'd set up had probably never crossed his mind; she had, after all, gone along with his every suggestion in the past. Hell, she'd even moved to New Rome at his urging — and now she knew why he was so eager to have her close by, didn't she? He could manage her better when she was in the same city than across the country.
Gods, she was so tired of all of this — of being managed, of being treated like a liability by a man who was practically her brother. Most of all, she was tired of feeling guilty for fucking up, for letting the mortal blood that flowed through her veins weaken her.
"Annabeth, don't be — "
"Difficult? Sorry, I thought that's what you were used to." She planted her hands on the front of Jason's desk and leaned forward, meeting his electric blue gaze. "You never had to say yes. If you wanted things to be easy, if you didn't want to deal with all of this, with me … you should have told me no. But you didn't , Jason Grace. You said yes, and then you made the choice to build your life around a lie. You don't get to act like a long-suffering martyr now and blame me after you benefited from it for years."
Annabeth pushed off the desk and whirled around, her entire body trembling. Jason's chair creaked as he stood. "Where are you going?"
"Home. You probably already got that statement written the way you want, and you can certainly handle explaining this to the Romans on your own, Mr. Ambassador. I'm sure that'll be so much easier for you than having me around to complicate things with my issues."
Jason called her name again, but Annabeth she yanked his office door open and stormed out, heading toward the exit. She passed Piper, who was coming back up the stairs, and ignored her surprised inquiry as she rushed past.
Somewhere, in the depths of her anger and the hollowness carving out a space in her chest, she recognized that she was was doing exactly what Jason had accused her of — letting her ego cause more trouble for everyone involved — but gods be damned, she refused to feel sorry about it. She'd spent enough time wallowing in her guilt for things she couldn't control.
In another world, maybe, Jason had slayed the Lord of Time on his own and had rightfully earned the title of Hero of Olympus.
In another time, maybe, an upstart daughter of Athena hadn't stolen the glory prophesied for him and given him a shadow of it in return.
But in this world, she had.
And it was about time both of them came to terms with that.
+
Falling in love with Luke had been the easy part.
Falling out of love with him… well. He made that much harder.
During the summer before the end of the world, Luke taught her a lot of things. She became a better swordswoman at his urging, matching him step-for-step and swing-for-swing in the training arena, until she could take down Greek and Roman demigods of any parentage. They played war games together, strategizing and plotting until the wee hours of the night, and ran secret missions to smuggle booze and other contraband into camp.
He taught her how it felt to be the center of someone's universe for the first time in her life; how to kiss (properly, with tongue) and how heavy the infamous light fingers of a son of Hermes could feel when slipped under her clothes; how to be a vulnerable fool in love, leaving her heart unguarded and ripe for the taking.
How to lie in the most cruel fashion possible.
How to use someone and get away with it, undetected, for months.
+
Someone had painted a trident on Annabeth's apartment door in the hours since she'd left for work.
Whoever had painted it had done so in a hurry — the trident was messy and uneven, and the paint had dribbled in several spots. The damn thing took up the entire length of her door, making it impossible to ignore, and the smell of spray paint lingered in the hallway.
Annabeth wasn't sure if was meant as a mocking message or a threat, but the sight of it put her in an even worse mood. She was already keyed up for a fight; let some punk ass Neptune groupie try and attack her at home. She'd make an example of them.
No one was waiting for her in her apartment, however, and no one dropped by as the afternoon hours crawled by.
Annabeth had half-expected Jason to show up, even after her outburst at the embassy, but neither he, Piper, or any of their respective staff did. She supposed he had more important things to do than run after her and convince her to play ball, which did nothing to dissipate the hollow aching in her chest.
They might've tried to call her, but she'd shut off her phone as soon as she'd left the embassy and kept it tucked into the depths of her purse, out of sight, but certainly not out of mind. She kept the TV off and nudged her laptop under her bed, but turned her radio on to a station that played a lot of furious rock and had little use for small talk in-between commercials to keep the silence from overwhelming her as she waited for Lochte & Keyes to air.
She almost wished a reporter would come knocking, just so she'd have someone to light into for a few minutes.
Instead, she settled for stripping out of her dress and heels, wrapping her hands, and wailing on the punching bag she kept hanging in the ceiling of the guest room. She made herself start out slow, warming up her body and focusing on her technique, but her restraint didn't last long. She wanted to be in control, to feel as powerful as she had yesterday.
She wanted to make something hurt as much as she did.
Annabeth kicked and punched, jabbed and feinted until every muscle screamed at her to stop, until her tears mixed in with her sweat and the pressure in her chest had eased. She caught the swinging bag and pressed her forehead against it, steadying herself.
"Fuck," she panted, closing her eyes and wishing she could be anywhere else but here.
+
As she padded back to her bedroom, she stepped on a small scrap of cardboard that had spilled out of the pocket of her cardigan and onto her hallway floor.
Annabeth picked it up and look at it for long, exhausted moment. Had she really only talked to the son of Neptune this morning? It already felt so distant, like it had happened to another Annabeth Chase entirely.
She nearly crumpled it up and tossed it into the garbage bin. But something made her hesitate.
"I've never fought against anyone like you. You're… breathtaking."
She took the scrap into her bedroom, awash in the red gold of the evening sun, and sat on the edge of her bed, staring at his messy scrawl until the sweat had dried on her body and the shadows began to length in her room.
"I can't fault their taste. You're clearly worth talking about."
She started reaching for her purse before she'd even realized she'd made a decision; she had one more moment of doubt, but it was gone as soon as she had her phone in hand.
"I don't give up on something I want. Or someone."
She pressed the power button and the screen lit up a few seconds later. The messages start coming in as soon as the phone is fully powered on — the dozens upon dozens from her old friends at Camp Half-Blood, from Piper and Jason, from her father, and a number with a New York area code who might be one of her ex-boyfriends — but she ignored them all, opening up a new message and typing in the number she already memorized.
Still curious about me?
It didn't take long for Percy Jackson to reply.
+
It wasn't until much later (far, far too late) that she'd learn the most important lesson of all from Luke.
Sometimes, the cracks that fractured a man couldn't be fixed.
Sometimes, broken men didn't want to be fixed.
And in those cases… it was best to run away before they shattered you right alongside them.
The Grand Eagle Lounge wasn't so much grand as it was a dingy hole-in-the-wall that's better days were decades in the past.
Built into one of the remaining vaults of an old stone bridge in New Rome's terrace district, the bar had been designed with elegance in mind. The original art deco wall lights were still in place, as was the large chandelier hanging from the peak of the arched ceiling, and intricate gold trim still clung to the large oak bar in spots where it had survived drunk patrons' attempts to pry it off. Hints of elegant wallpaper poked through the layers of posters for old gladiator fights, concerts, and legion recruitment drives.
But that past was buried under a heavy layer of grime and neglect, easy to overlook and dismiss in the jumble of the Eagle's current state.
The floor was always sticky, even in the spots where threadbare carpet had been installed, and the hideous vinyl booths in the main room were stained with years of booze and Dionysus knew what else. None of the barstools matched and, most likely, had been stolen from other bars throughout The Eagle's long history. Behind the bar, a great gilded mirror was covered with fluorescent liquid chalk that listed out the weekly specials and the occasional lewd joke in Latin.
The Eagle was a only a few blocks away from Annabeth's apartment and, while it wouldn't have been her first choice of bar, it had grown on her since she'd moved to New Rome. The staff was friendly, but kept their noses out of their patrons' business. Plus, there wasn't a single TV in the entire establishment, which made it ideal on a night like tonight.
It was still early enough that The Eagle was relatively empty when Annabeth walked in — just a few of the usuals in their normal places, making small talk as the bar staff prepared for the rush of college students and legionnaires that would descend in a couple hours. She walked swiftly past them toward the back of the bar, pulling her Yankees hat just a bit lower over her eyes as she did.
Unfortunately, the hat no longer made her invisible; it had lost all its magic years ago, around the same time Annabeth had fallen out of her mother's favor.
Just like everything else, her relationship with Athena had deteriorated after the war. Not that they had ever been particularly close to begin with, but throughout her childhood, Annabeth had gotten attention and care that other demigods often didn't. She was Athena's pride and joy, the best of her daughters — the favorite.
"You don't need my help to be invisible anymore, it seems."
Annabeth had never understood how precarious her position as the favorite truly was until she was already starting to topple. She'd re-enrolled in college just a month after the Battle of Manhattan was settled and immediately began to struggle with the expectation of being normal. She couldn't adjust to a quiet, civilian life, especially not on top of the academic demands of attending a high pressure, prestigious school.
Athena had popped by through all of it, offering unhelpful criticism instead of support and heaping on more pressure instead of easing her daughter's burden. Annabeth had snapped the night her mother announced she'd told the Olympian Council that Annabeth would be thrilled to take on the task of re-designing Mount Olympus on her. She and Athena had gotten into such a vicious fight, Annabeth was surprised she hadn't ended up vaporized by the end of it.
She hadn't seen her mother since that night; later, discovering that her beloved Yankees cap had stopped working had just rubbed salt into the wound. But even without its powers, it was still a useful accessory for the times she wanted to draw less attention to herself.
Times like tonight, when the whole world now knew her name.
At the back of the bar, a rickety set of metal stairs led up to the Grand Eagle's one redeeming feature: the rooftop bar. The rooftop wasn't much more put together than downstairs — the owners had done very little to disguise the fact that the roof was a former roadway — but it at least had clean, matching furniture, fresh air, and a spectacular view of the bay and valley.
The twinkling white lights set up around the perimeter were starting to flicker on as Annabeth stepped out onto roof, which was even emptier than downstairs. Just the bartender, setting up for the night ahead and ignoring the three or four people smoking in the corner, and…
Though his back was to her, there was no mistaking the man who stood on the opposite side of the roof, silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun and observing the sprawling city below — his city.
Annabeth swallowed. She'd hoped she'd beat him here, so she could have a drink and get comfortable, but she must've taken longer to get ready than she'd thought. Not that she'd agonized over her outfit, throwing on a simple heather grey T-shirt, shorts, and gladiator sandals as soon as she'd gotten out of the shower.
The Eagle was the least prestigious place to meet she could think of on short notice, somewhere that would level the playing field, but as Annabeth took in Percy's profile, she realized she had miscalculated. A dive bar wouldn't rattle his confidence and authority one bit; it would only enhance it.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at his back. After a moment of hesitation, she walked over to the bar, determined to buy herself a couple more minutes before she had to go talk to him.
"Double whiskey sour," she told the bartender, digging for her wallet in her back pocket. "And a shot of Jameson, please."
The bartender nodded, setting down the bottles he'd been restocking, and reaching for a shot glass. He slid the drink over to her and Annabeth downed it without hesitation, hoping the smooth whiskey would soothe the twisting nerves in her stomach.
Gods, what had she been thinking, reaching out to the son of Neptune of all people? She didn't know what she was going to say to him, let alone what he would say to her. This had been a colossal mistake.
She fidgeted with the shot glass for a moment before pushing it back toward the bartender. He set her whiskey sour down in front of her. Before he could tell her what she owed, a familiar voice spoke up from behind.
"Her drinks are on me."
Annabeth jolted in surprise, sloshing some of drink over the side of the glass. She should've figured she wouldn't go unnoticed for long. .
Taking a deep breath, she propped an elbow on the bar, half-turning toward Percy. "I wouldn't, if I were you. Buying me a coffee is one thing, but I know how to run up a pretty big bar tab."
He shot her an amused look as he sidled up next to her, a bottle of Guinness held loosely in hand. "I think my bank account can handle it." He gaze darted to the bartender. "My tab."
"Whatever, man," he replied, turning toward the register to input Annabeth's order.
The bartender gave no indication that he recognized who Percy was — and, even if he had, it was likely he didn't care. No one asked a lot of questions at The Eagle, something she'd figured Percy would appreciate. Not that he had taken any great pains to disguise himself, simply ditching his business clothes for a black and blue baseball tee and sneakers.
"I haven't been here since I was a legionnaire. This is new," Percy continued, indicating the bar with a nod of the head. "Wouldn't have pegged you as an Eagle regular."
His gaze turned back to her, amusement still lingering in the depths of his eyes. That faded after a moment, replaced by the same delicious intensity he'd displayed hours ago in the cafe. He wasn't looking at her any differently than he had before, Annabeth realized, her pulse thrumming in her veins. He still wanted her.
"I like the view," she replied dryly, taking a long swallow of her drink, hoping he didn't the flush rising on her cheeks. She already regretted not ordering another shot. "Thanks for meeting me. I wasn't sure if… well... "
"What? That I wouldn't be interested once I found out what you really are?" He snorted. "Yeah, right."
"And what am I, really?"
Liar. Murderer. Traitor. Whore.
Depending on how much of the truth had come out, she could think of a number of words to describe what she was. She had no doubt that she was already being painted as all of these things by screaming pundits and furious trolls, by those stung and hurt from the deception. At this moment, however, Annabeth only cared about what the man beside her thought.
His shoulder brushed against hers as he leaned closer, the musky scent of sea and cedarwood washing over her.
"You," he murmured, voice deep and husky, "are a Titan Killer."
In the world of the gods, titles held just as much power as names, and hers was finally being acknowledged — and not just by anyone, but by her equal . A shiver ran down Annabeth's spine at the reverence in his tone, as if she was a queen he'd waited all his life to worship.
Perhaps he had; they were two of a kind, after all.
"That's right," she said, lifting her chin. "I am."
+
"I don't get it."
"Get what?" Annabeth asked, looking away from the deepening purple New Roman skyline.
Percy's gaze hadn't wandered from her profile since they'd sat down in a more secluded spot to talk. Perched on barstools, their drinks and elbows resting on the stone ledge ringing the rooftop, they sat close enough that Annabeth's knee brushed against his whenever she moved, sending pulses of frisson through her body.
"Why you let Grace take the credit for it. He said he was doing you a favor ," Percy said, his eyes narrowing and a dark expression creeping on to his face. "I find that hard to believe."
"Jason told you in person?"
"Yeah. Guess he figured he owed it to me, Big Three kid to Big Three kid." He rolled his eyes. "It wasn't a long talk. Neither was his address to senate leadership. He wouldn't answer a lot of our questions; said he needed to clear it with you first."
Regret rolled through Annabeth. Jason was still trying to protect her, even after she'd left him high and dry to handle this on his own. She truly didn't deserve his friendship, not after all the trouble she'd caused him.
"What did he tell you?" she asked, picking up her drink and forcing her guilty feelings away. She'd already spent enough time dwelling on them.
"He said that almost everything about the final battle with Kronos was a lie — that you were the real hero that day. Then he apologized for being a liar and offered to resign his position — "
" What?"
" — but Frank told him they could discuss it later. He went softer on him than I would've as praetor, but he actually likes Jason, so…" Percy shrugged, taking a pull from his beer. "I get why he'd steal the credit; everyone was expecting him to be the one and he always was a glory hound. Must've been a big blow to the ego for him. But like I said, I don't understand why you'd let him do it. You wouldn't even let me take your training field for a night."
"Because Jason didn't steal anything; I asked him to tell everyone he'd done it," she said, and he blinked, surprised. "It wasn't something I wanted to be known for."
"Why?"
That was the million drachma question, wasn't it? Why would any demigod give up the glory of being the Hero of Olympus? It all but guaranteed fame and fortune for the rest of their lives — not to mention a shot at eternal glory. Instead of living an anonymous, drudge-filled life in a city filled with people who looked down on her, Annabeth could've had the world at her feet.
Percy wouldn't be the only one asking why in the coming days. She didn't know what she should tell him — what she could tell him. Even if she didn't explain now, her history would get dug up sooner or later, every nasty bit of it examined and critiqued in the public eye. It would be inescapable for weeks, maybe even months.
She glanced away from him again, staring at the distant, illuminated dome of the senate building. Her finger circled the rim of her glass idly. "I don't even know where to start. It's… complicated."
"Isn't it always?"
His voice was as gentle as she'd ever heard — coaxing, even. He wanted to hear her story. But Annabeth didn't have to tell him anything more than she already had. He might get angry, might call her a bitch, but she didn't owe him anything. She could drain her drink and walk out of The Eagle right now.
That wasn't what she wanted, though. She'd reached out to him because, if anyone could understand her past, it would be the devil of New Rome.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself. It was time to excise some of her ghosts.
"Before he became Kronos, Luke Castellan was my boyfriend," she said. "He was still in there, at the end, and he pleaded with me to kill him. Doing it was… traumatic experience, to say the least."
She managed to keep her tone light and even, despite the way her chest tightened with dread with each word she spoke. Few people reacted reasonably when Luke's name came up in conversation. He had caused so much pain to thousands, sown so much distrust between demigods, had betrayed the gods… There was no telling what he'd done to Percy or his friends during the war. She half-expected him to curse and spit at her before storming away.
Instead, he leaned back against the ledge and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. I'm sorry."
"Thank you," she said, taken aback by his sympathy. It made it easier for her to continue. "By that point in the war, I was already pretty messed up, but… I couldn't handle being lauded for killing Luke. Not to mention what would happen once people found out we had a history." She let out a humorless laugh. "I'm still not looking forward to that, actually. Tomorrow's going to be a shitshow."
She picked up her glass, taking another long swallow at the thought. Percy mirrored her and they fell into a charged silence for a few moments, broken only by the growing chatter of the other patrons at the bar and the sounds from the street below.
Annabeth could feel the tension in her chest beginning to wind tighter as he stared at her, quietly reassessing her. What was he thinking? Did he hate her for the weakness in her heart? Or, worse — did he pity her?
When he spoke again, he said the last thing Annabeth expected.
"Luke Castellan gave me Riptide."
"What?"
Percy pulled a simple ballpoint pen out of his pocket and held it up for her inspection. "It was the first summer after I joined the Legion, so I was probably about 12. I was still a probatio and pretty much useless to everyone because I couldn't find a suitable weapon to train with. Plus, being a cursed son of Neptune, no one wanted to train me properly anyway. And then Castellan and your centaur, Chiron, showed up at camp for a few months for that Greek/Roman combat exchange program we used to do before the war."
That had been a miserable summer for everyone at Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth recalled with a sudden burst of fondness. The Roman centurions who had switched spots with Chiron and Luke had canceled most of their regular camp activities, and drilled them within an inch of their lives day in and day out. Mr. D had to take on more responsibilities and was crankier than ever. Without Chiron around to run interference, at least half the campers had spent some time as a dolphin before the end of the summer.
"I guess my dad — well, Poseidon, anyway — gave Chiron the sword for safekeeping a while back. He brought it with him once he heard Camp Jupiter had a son of Neptune hanging around. But Castellan was the one who gave it to me, just to practice with and see if it'd make a difference." Percy spun the pen around his fingers. "I've had it ever since — and I've never told anyone the truth about how I got it until now."
"Really?"
He shot her a sardonic look. "People already didn't trust me. Telling them my sword was a gift from the host of Kronos would've give 'em a real reason to kill me."
Annabeth was gobsmacked. She'd hoped that Percy wouldn't judge her too harshly for her past with Luke, but she'd never imagined that he would have decent memories of the son of Hermes as well. It put her at ease, knowing she wouldn't have to fight to prove that Luke had once been more than Kronos' most important soldier, that her love for him hadn't been treachery at its very core.
"I had no idea. I did wonder why you were fighting with a Celestial Bronze sword. You Romans are pretty snobby about your weapons."
Percy bared his teeth in a grin. "Yeah, a lot of legionnaires from the other cohorts gave me shit about it for a while. They weren't such smartasses when Riptide was at their throats, though." He dropped the grin after a moment, turning contemplative, and tucked the pen away. "Castellan taught me a lot that summer — standing up to assholes like that was only part of it."
It wasn't hard to imagine Luke arriving at Camp Jupiter and taking a younger, outcast Percy Jackson under his wing. He'd already earned the trust of the children of Zeus and Hades — a son of Neptune would complete the set. Another powerful demigod to be his ally and help shape his destiny.
That was her cynicism talking, of course. Luke had been genuinely good at 19. A little sharp around the edges, a little bitter in the darker moments, but still good. His fall hadn't come until later.
"He was like that," Annabeth said quietly. "He wanted to take care of his fellow demigods, give them the best shot of survival he could because their godly parents certainly weren't going to do it for them. Kronos used that and twisted it into something dark."
"I almost didn't believe it when I found out he was in charge of the Titan Army. I knew he'd fucked up his quest, but I never thought…" Percy shook his head. "He was a real bastard in the battlefield. I've never seen anyone fight like him… not until I met you, anyway."
"He taught me a lot, too," she said with a snort. "A lot more than I ever wanted to know."
She downed the last of her drink, setting it back on the stone ledge with a forceful clink . Percy, whose beer bottle had been empty for some time, turned toward the bar and held up two fingers, indicating they wanted more drinks. Annabeth was grateful for it; she hardly felt the effects of the alcohol she'd already consumed, but she would need more of it to continue with the rest of her story.
A waitress dropped their drinks off, and Percy waited until she'd taken a fortifying sip before he spoke again.
"Did you love him?"
The boldness of the question nearly made Annabeth smile. He certainly wasn't going to let her ease into the hard part of this, was he?
"Yes. I don't think I realized how hard I'd fallen for him until he betrayed us," she said. "Luke was everything a 17-year-old girl could want — handsome, talented, charismatic, a little bit dangerous… not to mention he was older. Old enough to know better than to give me any serious attention."
The exact moment she knew she'd snared Luke's attention as something other than his childhood sidekick was burned into her memory.
The older year rounders had snuck off to the beach for a party at the end of May, just before camp started for real for the summer. The party was something of a tradition — a delicious and drunk affair that even Chiron tended to look the other way on, provided nothing got too out of hand. That year, the Stolls had stolen a keg and a few handles of liquor from the convenience store down the road, some industrious child of Demeter had supplied a potent strain of weed, and Leo, still new to camp and eager to please, had rigged up an epic sound and lighting system for the music.
With all of that, Annabeth should've been having a blast with her friends. However, strain had started to show up in her friendship with Jason by then and it was affecting every part of her life. She'd begun to resent Jason for a lot of things — being obnoxious about all the attention he was getting from the mortals; always taking the glory for things they'd achieved together ; taking her presence in his life for granted.
Worst of all, Annabeth hadn't been able to decide if she had romantic feelings for Jason or not, and he didn't seem to care either way — not with the way he kept lavishing attention on Piper, who'd made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. It burned Annabeth up, that he'd just brush her feelings and everything everyone had ever said about them being a perfect couple over the years aside for some girl who hated him.
So, she'd done the one thing she knew would get his attention again: wearing a truly ridiculous, skin baring bikini to the party.
To her utter humiliation Jason had ignored her and stuck by Piper's side for most of the night. Everyone but him knew why she'd worn the damn thing and Drew, of course, had plenty of snide things to say about desperate daughters of Athena whenever Annabeth walked past for the next few weeks.
Annabeth had drank and fumed in the firelight, cursing herself for not bringing a shirt to cover up, for being so sure that Jason would be interested in her when he hadn't displayed any hint of it ever —
And then Luke had appeared.
He hadn't been officially invited to the party, allegedly because he was considered camp staff now. Really, it was because no one knew how to handle Luke any more. He'd been back at camp for almost two months, returning to recover after his disaster of a quest that had left him scarred and a laughingstock in the public's eye. He'd been brooding and quiet, a stark change from the bright, mischievous son of Hermes they all knew.
However, it seemed like the old Luke had come back for the night. He played the part of a beleaguered staff member, mock scolding the Stoll brothers for the noise before they all laughed and someone pushed a drink into his hand. He'd mingled with the college age campers around the campfire, catching up and joking around like nothing had changed. It didn't take him long to notice Annabeth.
Annabeth had been doing her best not to pay attention to Luke, like she had been since he'd gotten back to camp and she'd realized she wasn't as over her childhood crush on him as she thought. It was so embarrassing, so immature, to be hung up on him like that. What chance did she have at getting Luke Castellan's attention when Jason wouldn't even look twice at her?
But she'd dared to glance over at him once — just once — and accidentally met his cool blue gaze. It was an electrifying moment, one she might not've been able to handle without the alcohol and fury burning in her veins.
Their eyes had remained locked for what seemed like ages, until Luke broke it to give her body a lazy perusal from from head to toe. It was not the kind of look friends gave each other. She'd blushed furiously and turned away, forcing herself to listen to whatever Will Solace and Michael Yew had started arguing about and pretend that Luke Castellan simply didn't exist.
That was hard to do when, minutes later, Michael called his name and she felt his presence at her side.
"Boys," he'd said, nodding greetings around their circle. His deep voice caused Annabeth's heartbeat to quicken. Finally, he turned to her and their eyes met again; his blue eyes burned with rousing interest. "Hey Annabeth."
That's it. That's all it had taken to make her fall for that miserable man. Even 10 years later, the thought of how simple it had been terrified her.
Because she knew it could happen again just as easily.
"How much older?" Percy asked, drawing her back to the present. A dark look had appeared on his face; he'd already done the math, but she answered him anyway.
"He was 25."
He cursed colorfully in Latin and then again in English for good measure. "That son of a bitch."
She offered him a bitter smile. "Like I said, old enough to know better. But if you think I'm stubborn now, you should've seen me back then. Luke gave me an inch and I ran a mile with it. I wanted him and I wasn't going to stop until I got every part of him.
"There's a part of me that likes to think he would've ignored me if Kronos already hadn't been in his head by that point, but… Luke's pride was smarting after that failed quest. He was a public laughingstock, he'd been exiled back to his least favorite place in the world, camp, and everyone was too busy admiring their next hero to pay attention to him. Well, everyone but me, anyway. I fell right into his lap, starry-eyed and ready to put him back together. He didn't have the willpower to resist that temptation, Kronos or not."
Percy took an furious swig of his beer, his green eyes swirling like a tempest. If Luke wasn't already long dead, she imagined Percy would be off to find him and skewer him. "Don't make excuses for him. He was the adult. He used you — "
"He used everyone. I wasn't special in that regard," Annabeth interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm not telling you this so you'll view me as some kind of victim. I made my own choices. And those first few months with Luke… they were good. I felt like was a better person when I was with Luke."
Sometimes, what bothered her most about what happened with Luke wasn't that he'd broken her heart. She wouldn't lost herself so badly if that's all their relationship had destroyed. But he had taken more than that — he'd betrayed her trust and utterly shattered her pride. He'd claimed to understand her, to value her.
He'd believed in her.
That had been the worst lie of them all.
"Y'know, it's cute that you thought any of that shit between us mattered. You were convenient, Annabeth. That's all you'll ever be — an accessory to better heroes. A footnote in someone else's destiny."
A sour taste entered Annabeth's mouth at the harsh memory. It pained her to admit that, after all these years, there was some truth to them now. She'd lost her taste for achieving greatness after the war, letting herself get erased from even the footnotes of history.
"Things changed after the Master Bolt disappeared. I think that's when he realized I was useful for more than just sex and building up his ego. I started noticing he was acting stranger soon after, but… our relationship was never public, so him sneaking around and being secretive wasn't that unusual," she continued with a frown. If their relationship had been a decent one from the beginning, there would have been no need to hide it from their friends. "He was so good at manipulating me. If he hadn't tried to kill Jason, I might've even joined him in the end."
If there had been anyone at Camp Half-Blood more hurt than she by Luke's betrayal, it had been Jason. Jason had admired Luke from the moment he showed up at camp, practically becoming his shadow for the first few years. Luke, for his part, had vowed to protect Jason once he found out that the boy was Thaila's little brother and did his best to look after him in honor of her memory. The three of them — Luke, Annabeth, and Jason — were a force to be reckoned with during the early years at camp.
At some point, however, Luke's fondness for Jason began to fade and transformed into a seething, toxic resentment. Maybe it had always been there and Luke simply had been better at ignoring back when Jason was a toothless, messy haired six-year-old instead of an obnoxious teenager. Either way, Annabeth never suspected how much he hated Jason until it was nearly too late.
She'd been busy dealing with her own issues with Jason at the time, however. Their estrangement had continued throughout the summer, and things only got worse when he finally was called to retrieve the weapon for his father. Jason had picked Piper and Leo to accompany him on the quest, which had infuriated Annabeth to no end. She was his best friend. He'd known how much she wanted to go on a quest, especially one as important as this! She been training all her life — what could Piper offer than she couldn't?
Their fight had been nasty, and the effects carried over after the trio came back, safe and triumphant. Jason'd been annoyed with her entitlement and attitude, and her continued snobbery toward Piper and Leo caused countless blow ups between the two of them. By the time Luke revealed his true colors, they were hardly speaking.
Luke, of course, had done everything possible to stoke the flames of her resentment even higher. She'd appreciated having someone on her side for once, but as Luke's attacks and rants about Jason got progressively nastier, she realized he wasn't doing it to support her. If Luke actually cared about either of them, he would've encouraged them to put aside their differences and repair their friendship; instead, he'd tried to isolate Annabeth, so she'd only rely on him for support and comfort.
After that realization, all of the strange things, the warning signs, she'd ignored over the last few months came into focus and she'd started digging. Annabeth had turned to Jason when Luke got scary, when she figured out what he'd been up to all this time. He'd had his own suspicions about the son of Hermes by that point, and Annabeth's tearful confession about their relationship had been enough to make him finally confront Luke.
And that was when their lives changed for good.
She told Percy all of this, the story coming out easier than she ever thought it would. The whiskey coursing through her veins helped, loosening her tongue and banishing her anxiety. Still, she had a feeling it would have been much more difficult if anyone but Percy was sitting next to her.
He listened to her intently, arms crossed over his chest and broad shoulders tensed, his leg bouncing up and down furiously as she spoke. His mouth was pressed into a thin, angry line — he clearly had plenty more to say about Luke, but he didn't interrupt her again.
"Even after he revealed his true allegiances, I don't think anyone at camp really believed he meant it. I certainly didn't want to. We were all sort of hoping he'd come back and put things right, that we could just sweep it under the rug… Then he made that broadcast." She swallowed, remembering Luke's fierce declaration of war against the gods, the cold, contemptuous way he'd slaughtered one of his mortal enemies as a sacrifice to Kronos. "After that, people didn't think my relationship with Luke was such an innocent mistake any more."
"Did they think you were his spy?"
"Nearly everyone. I didn't do myself any favors, running around and telling anyone who would listen that we couldn't give up on Luke." Annabeth propped her chin on her hand and shrugged. "I don't blame people for not trusting me at first — it was smart, actually. I was the daughter of Athena; I was cold and calculating. I always had a plan. A heart, however… that was debatable."
"That's bullshit."
"Which part?"
"Anyone seriously thinking you're cold." He took a long drink of beer. "That's the last word I'd use to describe you."
She flushed, surprised, and struggled to find her next words. "You barely know me."
"And? The woman I met yesterday was a demanding, quick-tempered vixen with something to prove… which doesn't sound all that different from the girl you've spent the last hour telling me about. You weren't cold then and you aren't now. Anyone who thinks otherwise isn't paying attention."
"Clearly not as much as you are." She jerked her gaze away from him, unable to stand his scrutiny any longer. "What's it matter to you if people think I'm a frigid bitch anyway?"
The barstool creaked as Percy leaned toward her, pressing his arm against her, and Annabeth froze in surprise as she felt calloused, but gentle fingertips sliding along her jaw. He tilted her chin back toward in his direction, until she had no choice but face him.
"Because you deserve better than that," he said simply.
Annabeth's heart pounded as she searched his face, waiting for a hint of mockery to appear in his green eyes or for cruelty to pull at the corner of his mouth. Instead, she found nothing but sincerity.
Gods, she wanted to kiss him so bad her chest ached. It had been so long since someone had told her she was worthy and meant it; it'd been even longer since she told herself that. How did Percy know exactly what to say to put her at ease?
He seemed to know exactly what she wanted. His hand slipped to the back of her neck, tilting her face up to his, and she reached out, ready to curl her hands around those broad shoulders —
Unbidden, Piper's warning words floated into her mind, sending her crashing back down to earth.
"He's smart and charming… but he's a calculating, manipulative asshole underneath it all."
She paused, fingers just centimeters away from touching him, and pulled back, disoriented. Percy dropped his hand immediately.
"Sorry, I —" She pushed her drink away and stood abruptly. "I need to go to the bathroom."
Percy's brow furrowed and made a move to stand, but Annabeth held up a warning hand. "Just… stay. I'll be back."
She turned on her heel and didn't look at him as she walked toward the stairs, cursing herself for her foolishness with every step away.
A rush of noise and hot, stuff air greeted her as she entered The Eagle's main level. The bar was packed with bodies now, a rowdy night finally about to get underway. The excited drone of the crowd meant nothing to Annabeth as she pushed her way through to the back hall. There was no line to the bathrooms, though two girls were retouching their make-up in the grimy, cracked mirror when Annabeth entered. They took one look at the expression on her face and quickly fled; she pulled out her knife and slid in through the door handle, crudely barring the door so she wouldn't be disturbed.
"What exactly do you think you're doing, Chase?" she asked herself as she leaned over the sink, staring at her reflection.
If kissing Percy Jackson had been a bad idea when she'd just been an overlooked daughter of Athena, it was an insanely stupid one now that she was the Hero of Olympus. She wasn't just a woman who had kicked his ass. She was someone important; someone he could use .
Percy saw her so effortlessly — and it didn't bother her nearly as much as it should have.
Because, damn him, he was right about her.
She could be a cold, unfeeling creature of logic when she needed to be, but at her core, that wasn't who she was. If anything, she felt too much . She craved the intimate acceptance and love she saw between people like Jason and Piper; ached to trust and be valued for more than just her brains and physical skills; feared that there was something fundamentally wrong with her that kept driving people away.
It was easier to shut down and distance herself, to pretend she didn't — couldn't care about anything substantial, especially after the war had scarred her so. But that didn't mean she was always good at keeping up the facade. Usually, it just took much longer than a day or two for someone to notice.
What exactly did Percy Jackson want from her? Curiosity couldn't have been the only reason he decided to meet her tonight. Did he want a story to sell, to embarrass a potential new rival? Was he hoping to use his inside knowledge to gain leverage over Jason or any of his other enemies? Or...
"And what am I, really?"
"You're a Titan Killer."
Or was here because he still wanted to get a drink with a woman who wasn't afraid of him?
Annabeth nearly laughed. She more afraid of Percy now that she ever had been in the training arena. A part of her still wanted to run from him and never look back; getting involved with him could be like Luke all over again.
Or it could be something better.
She'd spent the last few years running from anything that challenged her, no matter how much she'd wanted it. She'd had held herself back from risk and ruin, and where had that gotten her?
Absolutely nowhere.
She could try to keep what she had now, the half-life of a girl, cowering from her past and living like a shadow, always pretending she was worth less than she deserved. She could settle, get attached to a clueless good guy who would never understand her, and let the fiercest parts of her keep rusting into oblivion. She could …
But she wasn't going to.
She met her gaze in the mirror once more, steel-eyed and resolved.
She wasn't a naive 17-year-old girl any more. She knew what she wanted from the son of Neptune and what he was willing to give her. They were the same, weren't they? Survivors. Titan Killers.
It didn't matter if Percy Jackson wanted something other than her body… because she wouldn't let him have anything else.
+
She reunited with Percy at the bottom of The Eagle's rust-covered stairs.
The fact that he'd followed her, despite her reassurances that'd she come back, didn't surprise her in the slightest. She'd already run out on him once today, after all. He'd look like a fool if it happened again and she'd look like the worst sort of tease.
"I meant it when I said I'd be back, you know," she said, leaning on the rail as he approached. He paused on the last step, his expression cool and bland as he looked her over. Well, that was new.
"I figured. You left this on your seat," he said, pulling her Yankees cap out of his back pocket. "You were gone for a while. I thought someone might've recognized you and started causing some trouble."
"The line was long," she lied. "And I'm more than capable of handling trouble."
"I know."
A stilted silence settled between them as they stared at one another, broken only by the muffled hollering from inside the bar. Annabeth's nerves sparked as she noted the stiffness in Percy's shoulders and the tight clench of his jaw. Now he was angry with her? For what?
He shifted restlessly on his feet and finally bit out, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking. If you want to keep talking, I won't touch you again, I swear."
Percy wasn't angry with her — he was mad at himself for pushing her boundaries, for scaring her. She wasn't the only one between them struggling with the weight and consequences of a reputation, who had to navigate tricky politics and ulterior motives.
It was a revelation that knocked Annabeth's breath from her.
And made her next decision all the easier.
"I don't want to talk about Kronos anymore."
He nodded stiffly, looking away, misunderstanding. "All right."
"I do, however," she said, planting a foot on the stairs and stepping up to join him, her body pressing flush against his hard chest, "want you to keep touching me."
The air grew heavy as Percy's eyes swung back to her. She was sure she saw a flash of surprise before it was swallowed by the dark hunger that overtook his expression. Heat flared and spread across Annabeth's body from every part of her that touched him, gathering and pooling low in her belly. She could feel the flex of his muscles against her breasts and her nipples tightened with want.
"You're sure?"
Annabeth studied Percy's shadowed face carefully as she briefly pondered her question.
For all the similarities she saw between the two men, she knew Luke would've never apologized for something so simple; Luke had never asked. He'd just taken and used until he was satisfied, and left her with nothing but ruins. Luke had wanted a follower, not a partner.
Percy Jackson wanted an equal.
"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, pressing her hands to his chest, letting them skim up his shoulders and to the side of his neck. "About me deserving better?"
One his big hands settled on the small of her back, holding her steady; his palm was almost scorchingly hot through the thin cotton of her shirt. He tilted his mouth toward hers, his voice a delicious rumble, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
Her mouth slanted over his, swallowing the last of his words in a kiss. She'd expected a desperately passionate response from him, his hunger for her barely contained… she should've known better. This was the son of Neptune, after all.
Percy's lips moved over hers with deliberate, destructive slowness, taking her apart one movement at a time. It was a deep, drugging kiss that swelled and rose, and Annabeth nearly let it swallow her whole. However, before she could pulled under, she still had an answer to give him.
"Then yes," she breathed. "I'm sure."