Page 16 of Vengeance of the Gods

Chase’s wide eyes trailed up her arm, landing on the hammer Vega still had raised in the air.

If she went for a walk, Chase would call immediately and ask why she was out, claiming he was worried something would happen to her if she was out alone. “You’ll get lost. There will be another accident.” He’d used every excuse in the book.

She dropped her arm, hugging the hammer close to her chest. “I…” Vega couldn’t think with Chase’s gaze searing into her like he’d been the one to catch her between the legs of another woman—no, just you on the balcony with a hammer, trash can, matches, and some lighter fluid.

Vega searched her mind for an excuse, a lie. Anything. She couldn’t find one. Her brain felt trapped in quicksand.

“Vega, is that…?” He trailed off, stepping forward to peer into the trash can behind her. “That’s my grandmother’s brooch.”

A bear balancing on a ball like a circus animal. She’d found it inside one of Chase’s coat pockets.

Tollybear. Bear.

She’d thought it could be a sign. She was looking for them in everything these days—hoping something would click and she’d finally stop feeling like she was living in a false reality.

Vega knew this life here wasn’t right. This wasn’t her home. She stared at the back of Chase’s head, his sandy blond hair cut too short.

Chase’s look of astonishment turned into something new. “Is this what you’ve been doing with the things going missing over the last month?”

She hadn’t thought this through—not any of the times she’d found something inside their apartment to destroy had she planned for Chase to pop in randomly and find her.

Stupid. So fucking stupid, Vega. She scolded herself but couldn’t find words to respond to Chase, her mouth clamped shut while her brain tried, so hard, to find an acceptable excuse.

“Don’t just stand there! Answer me!” Chase screamed, his voice echoing through the courtyard and amplifying to their neighbor’s balconies.

She blinked, trying to get herself together, and when Vega opened her eyes, Chase’s open hand connected with her cheek.

The slap—if she could even call it that—caught her off guard, sending Vega tumbling into the glass patio door.

Somehow it didn’t shatter, but Vega’s head felt like it might.

The blinding pain of a bad headache made Vega put pressure on her temples as she rose.

There had once been a version of Vega who loved Chase, the sweet boy who… had always kind of treated her like a stray dog he’d graciously taken in.

This had never been love.

This was about control.

The curse’s control.

Stars sprinkled her vision, fire shooting down every nerve from her head to her toes. Vega heard herself gasp, but the air caught in her throat when Chase’s hands wrapped around her neck.

No, no, no. You’re not weak. You will not become this person again.

Pain rained down, making Vega immobile. It was impossible for her to fight physically when she was being ravaged by something invisible on the inside.

Death.

She thought she was dead. Whether it was the pain from her head or from Chase choking the air out of her, Vega was almost completely numb, unable to feel the fire in her legs or arms anymore.

Nausea turned to bile when the oven inside her brain went from broil to slow cook. The pain dulled enough for panic to set in, black spots turning to holes in her vision.

With all the strength she had left, Vega slammed her knee in between Chase’s legs.

He dropped to the patio floor, hunched over and groaning loud enough to let her neighbors know she’d handled it.

Vega gasped for air, backing away. “Don’t you ever, ever put your fucking hands on me again! Or it’ll be you burning in a bucket.” Her voice was raspy, her windpipe surely taking some damage.