At the end of the road, I follow the sheriff’s path south. But I take a left and zip through the empty streets of West Falls.
The citizens understand.
There must be lingering trauma here for them, too.
I want to tell them that the takeover will be peaceful. That once we’re established, restrictions and roadblocks will ease. They’ll barely notice our presence.
But it’s a lie even I can’t stomach.
There’s no easing into this, no soft approach in the middle of the night. We’ve been doing that for months—this is the time for fast action, for violence. It’s the surge of power that scares people, but it’s the quiet after that which is the most dangerous.
I fly through the center of Sterling Falls and coast to a stop outside the large marble building that houses both the city council and the sheriff’s department. There are still people working at this hour. A whole building full of them, I’d reckon, who all follow the sheriff’s lead. Plus extras, like the city council.
My nose wrinkles.
The sheriff is a problem. He’s always been a problem. Corrupt, vile. Some, like Artemis, might argue that he has a heart.
I know differently.
He follows money. Always has, always will. He would stab his sister in the back if it meant saving his own skin. We’re going to find out very, very soon if my opinion of him is correct.
I look across toward where three of my men sit on bikes, and I gesture for them to continue. They each rev their engines, and the answering call echoes around the building. From all sides, the motorcycles flood in. My masked men—not like Olympus, where they cover their eyes and leave the rest blank, they have bandanas tied around the lower portion of their faces—stream off the bikes and into city hall.
In a matter of moments, screams and the sound of breaking glass are carried out on the wind. Flames flicker in the first-floor windows, and suit-wearing men and women sprint outside.
More of my men wait for them, corral them.
Soon, black smoke billows from the windows. It represents the deterioration of the office, of Sterling Falls’ government. We’re going to burn everything rotten to the ground, and they’ll be lucky if we deem Sterling Falls worthy enough to start over.
Or maybe we’ll just revel in the ash.
22ARTEMIS
I examinethe tattoo in the mirror. Saint went out front to draw the blinds down across the wide windows, not wanting to strictly rely on the privacy curtain I pulled. I’m still bare-chested,satiated.
Sex with him, this time, was totally different from the quick-and-dirty fucks of the past. Not that I can complain about them—putting aside the guilt that crawled over us afterward, they were hot.
It was also a baring of my soul. Telling him about Terror… I’ll admit, I skipped some of the more brash moments. I went with the feelings of helplessness and vulnerability. I didn’t want to discuss the clinical aspect. The way the doctor spread me open to check my hymen when I first arrived, then gave me a tranquilizer to relax.
Docile was the name of their game.
Hewouldn’t want to know about the men who bought me. The way their rough fingers gripped at my skin. A million ways to bruise me, but it seems like my soul took most of the battering.
“Tem.”
I glance toward Saint.
“I…” He looks down. “I’m sorry for how I treated you this past year.”
My heart thumps extra-hard. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I was cruel.” He meets my gaze, his expression pained. “How do I recover from that? I… It wasn’t just what I said when we had sex. It was every other little action. And you were hurting?—”
“No more than you.”
He comes closer. “Men took what they wanted from your body. How is that any different than whatItook from you?”
I slide my hands up the front of his chest. “Because I goaded you into it. If I didn’t want you to fuck me, Saint, I would’ve said no. And I believe with all my being that you would respect that.”
