The diner smelled like grease, coffee, and exhaustion.
Percy stabbed at his fries without much appetite, while Grover demolished a plate of enchiladas like they might run away. Annabeth had commandeered the window booth, maps and notes spread around her milkshake, pencil tapping as if the fate of the world depended on proper diner geometry. Cynthia sat across from Percy, hoodie up, eyes always drifting to the door.
"That's the third time you've checked the exits," Percy muttered.
"Fourth," Cynthia corrected quietly. "Front, back, kitchen, restroom window."
"Relax," Grover said through a mouthful. "What's the worst that could—"
The door slammed open.
The bell above it shrieked.
Conversation died instantly.
A biker filled the doorway—tall, broad, leather jacket bristling with chains and patches, helmet tucked under one arm. His boots hit the tile like gunshots. The waitress froze mid-step.
Percy felt it first in his gut. Not monster-fear. Something worse.
God-fear.
The biker's eyes swept the diner, then locked on their booth. He grinned.
"Well," he said loudly, "if it isn't the runaway kids causing half the country's trouble."
Grover choked on a tortilla chip.
Annabeth's pencil snapped.
The biker strolled over, pulled out a chair with a screech, and sat backward on it like he owned the place—which, Percy had a bad feeling, he kind of did.
"Relax," the biker said. "I'm not here to start anything."
"Then leave," Cynthia said flatly.
Ares laughed. The sound rattled Percy's teeth.
"I like her," the god of war said. "Got teeth."
Percy swallowed. "Ares."
Ares snapped his fingers. The waitress flinched, then turned around as if nothing had happened.
"Bill's covered," Ares said. "Get yourselves something nice for the road."
Annabeth folded her arms. "We don't take gifts from gods."
Ares leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "Good. Because this isn't a gift."
The air felt heavier.
"I've got a little problem," Ares went on. "Someone jacked my shield. Real sentimental piece. I want it back."
Grover squeaked. "Why us?"
"Because you're already in trouble," Ares said cheerfully. "And because you've got a habit of surviving stupid situations."
Percy frowned. "Where is it?"
Ares smiled wider. "Tunnel of Love. Water park. Easy job."
Annabeth stiffened. "Nothing involving gods is ever easy."
"True," Ares said. "That's why I'm offering something in return." He tilted his head at Percy. "A ride. Straight to Las Vegas."
That got Percy's attention. Annabeth's too.
Grover whispered, "That's… really far."
"And really useful," Annabeth said, suspicious.
Cynthia didn't look impressed. "What's the catch?"
Ares shrugged. "If you don't take it, I find someone else. If you do, you get your ride and I get my shield." His eyes darkened. "Either way, war marches on."
Silence stretched.
Percy glanced at his friends. Annabeth's jaw was tight. Grover looked like he wanted to hide under the table. Cynthia met Percy's eyes and gave the smallest nod.
"Fine," Percy said. "We'll do it."
Ares grinned, stood, and tossed some bills on the table. "Knew you had spirit, Seaweed Brain."
The god turned for the door, then paused. "Oh—and kids?"
They looked up.
"Try not to die."
The Tunnel of Love was not loving.
The water park was abandoned, rides rusting, music warped and looping through broken speakers. Heart-shaped boats drifted in dark water beneath flickering lights.
Annabeth frowned as soon as they stepped inside. "This place feels… wrong."
Percy nodded. "Yeah. Like it's waiting."
They spotted the shield fast—resting on a pedestal, glowing faintly. Draped over it was a delicate silk scarf, pink and shimmering.
"Aphrodite," Annabeth muttered. "That's hers."
Cynthia narrowed her eyes. "So why would she leave it with Ares' shield?"
Percy's stomach dropped. "Because she didn't."
Annabeth looked at him sharply.
"Hephaestus," Percy said. "Traps. Machines. Public humiliation." He swallowed. "This isn't about the shield. It's about exposing them."
Grover shifted nervously. "Can't we just… not touch it?"
The lights brightened.
Too late.
"Plan," Cynthia said fast.
Annabeth closed her eyes. "We pull both. Shield and scarf. Break the narrative."
Percy nodded. "On three."
"One."
"Two—"
They yanked.
The floor clanged.
Metal skittered from the walls.
Mechanical spiders poured out—dozens, clicking, gears whirring.
Annabeth froze.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes went glassy.
"Annabeth," Percy said urgently. "Hey—look at me."
She didn't move.
Cynthia stepped in front of her instantly, blades flashing. "Grover—Percy—move!"
Grover slammed his reed pipes together, music blasting, confusing the spiders just enough.
Percy grabbed Annabeth's hands. "You're here. With us. It's not real danger—it's just machines."
She shook, but her eyes focused on him. "I—I can't—"
"I know," he said. "But you're not alone."
Another clang—Olympian symbols flared overhead.
Broadcast systems activating.
"Time!" Cynthia shouted. "Now!"
Percy hurled the shield into the water. Grover blasted another note. Cynthia dragged Annabeth, half-carrying her as Percy kicked the release lever.
Water surged. Lights died. Screens went dark.
They burst out into night air, gasping, soaked, alive.
No thunder. No divine applause.
Annabeth slid down onto the pavement, shaking but breathing.
Percy crouched beside her. "We did it."
She nodded weakly. "And… Olympus didn't see."
Cynthia wiped oil from her blade. "Good. I hate an audience."
From the shadows, a motorcycle engine roared.
Ares' laugh echoed.
"Now that," he said, "was entertainment."
Chapter 13 ends with:
Ares confirmed manipulator
Annabeth's fear handled with care
Team trust deepened
Las Vegas looming with danger