"Fuck no." Frankie's voice dropped further, barely audible above the hum of the diner's ancient refrigeration unit. "He's terrified he's next. This house cleaning has been going on since Hephaestus got ousted. His sister Hera's been running Eastern Europe ever since, but the turnover in the other regions? That's been accelerating. Prometheus is consolidating power because he's running scared."
The Hephaestus situation. Eight years ago, the youngest director in Pantheon history ruled Eastern Europe for three years before his twin sister challenged him to a duel. Then he just... disappeared. No body, no witnesses, just gone.
"Word is, something's happening above the Seven," Frankie continued. "Some shadowy eighth player making moves. The Seven have always been the public face, but there's always been whispers about who really pulls the strings."
"So why tell me this?" I asked, blinking hard to force clarity back into my sight. "Why help me at all?"
Frankie studied his coffee for a long moment, steam curling upward like ghostly fingers. "Insurance," he finally said. "Prometheus is getting erratic. Making things personal. When directors start acting like dictators, shit goes sideways fast. I'm just... hedging my bets."
"By warning the guy with a price on his head?"
"By making sure someone knows what's really happening when the shit finally hits the fan." He reached for his coffee, and I noticed something I'd never seen before—a slight tremor in his hand. Frankiewas scared. The realization sent ice through my veins. In ten years, I'd never seen Frankie scared of anything.
"Rhadamanthys arrives today," Frankie continued. "Word is, he's personally interested in your situation."
"The Judges are supposed to be neutral." I tried to focus on his face, but it kept doubling, shifting in and out of clarity like a bad satellite signal.
"Neutral doesn't mean uninvolved," Frankie replied. "It means he serves justice, not sides. And Rhadamanthys... he has his own interpretation of justice. Theatrical bastard with his cowboy hat and those damn spurs that announce his arrival like some spaghetti western antihero."
"And that's bad for me how?" My head throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat, each pulse jackhammering fresh agony through my skull until light itself became a weapon.
"Depends entirely on what he sees when he looks at you," Frankie said, leaning forward. "A rogue asset who broke sacred oaths? Or a man breaking free of control? Either way, he's coming to witness whatever happens next. The man loves a good showdown."
"Great. Judge, jury, and critic all in one package," I muttered.
"Don't underestimate him, Luka. Behind all that theatrical bullshit is a man who's served the Pantheon longer than both of us combined. He sees things others miss. And if he's personally interested in your situation..." Frankie shook his head. "It means something bigger is at play."
"Bigger than Prometheus?"
"Much bigger. Which means you either have a powerful enemy or a powerful ally. The question is, which?"
“Well, at least now I know how fucked I am.” If the hit had come from Prometheus himself, there would be no talking him out of it. The only way this would end was with blood.
Frankie stood, scattering bills across the table like dead leaves. "Watch your back, Luka. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
He walked out without looking back, leaving me alone with a cooling coffee and a napkin that felt radioactive in my palm. Vincent had never been anything but a test. A way to gauge my loyalty, to see if my programming still held. And I'd failed spectacularly, proving whatever they'd suspected about my conditioning breaking down.
I tried to stand and immediately regretted it. The room spun violently, floor and ceiling trading places in a nauseating carousel. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white, waiting for the vertigo to pass. My legs trembled beneath me, muscles burning with the effort of holding me upright. Each breath scraped through my lungs like I was inhaling ground glass.
Fuck. The infection was moving faster than I'd anticipated, fever spiking higher than should be possible this quickly. I needed to get back to Vincent before I completely crashed. Needed to tell him what Frankie had revealed. Needed to make plans before Rhadamanthys arrived.
The walk across the Acropolis's main concourse stretched into an endless nightmare. Distances warped and twisted, ten feet expanding into a hundred, then a thousand.
The fever clawed deeper with each step, hooking talons into my brain stem and pulling. Reality fractured into kaleidoscope shards that refused to align. My mouth filled with the taste of copper and rot, infection spreading through my system faster than my body could fight it.
I imagined Rhadamanthys watching me struggle from some hidden vantage point, spinning his dramatic tales about love and sacrifice while noting my every weakness. Would he see a man worth saving or just another broken asset ready for disposal? Did I even care what judgment he might render?
Yes, I realized. I did care. Not for myself, but for what his verdict might mean for Vincent's safety.
Each step became a war against gravity. Step, breathe, steady. Step, breathe, steady. My body became enemy territory, organs revolting one by one. The infection marched through me, conquering territories—lymph nodes, bloodstream, rational thought.
Sweat drenched my shirt, plastering fabric to skin while my body betrayed me—freezing one moment, burning the next, never deciding which hell to commit to. The cut on my cheek throbbed in time with my pulse, each beat sending fresh spikes of pain through my skull.
By the time I reached our apartment, the world had narrowed to a tunnel of shifting shadows. I leaned heavily against the wall, lungs burning with the effort of drawing breath, my skin on fire. My fingers fumbled with the access panel, missing the code twice before finally connecting.
The door slid open silently. Relief washed through me when I spotted my note still on the coffee table, the gummy worm undisturbed. Vincent hadn't woken yet.
I staggered to the couch, every step a negotiation with gravity. Mission accomplished. Made it back before Vincent could worry. Got the intel we needed. Now I just needed to rest. Just for a minute. Just until the room stopped spinning.
